Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen
Author: BlurryDream
Date: 2024-10-17T19:29:34.390000+00:00

Chapter 1: A Song of Ice and Fire, Viserys

"No, how could there be nuclear bombs in the hands of rebels from such a third-rate country?"

"I didn't die?! Where am I?"

In a daze, the silver-haired teenager opened his purple eyes, and the scene in front of him gradually became clear. He felt disoriented. Although he didn't know where he was, he was certain it wasn't a hospital. The pale purple walls were slightly worn, and the windows with their peculiar design swayed gently in the breeze. The purple curtains fluttered, giving the room a desolate appearance.

The silver-haired teenager realized he was lying on a table surrounded by bottles and jars. The strong smell of alcohol permeated the air.

"My head hurts," he murmured.

For a moment, Viserys felt as if a wire had been shoved into his head and twisted. Judging from his limited experience of partying, this was a hangover. But even for a hangover, this pain was unbearable.

Suddenly, a flood of memories began to wash over his brain, making his already pale face look even more frail.

"Let her go!"

"Ah! Brother, don't hit me, I'm wrong! I'm wrong!"

"Dany! Buy me some more wine."

"Haha, what Viserys III, why not call you The Beggar King!"

"How much is this crown worth?"

"Brother, where should we go?"

"Dany! Get up! There's an assassin!"

"Prince, you must... protect yourself..."

"Prince Rhaegar is dead."

"Mother..."

"The Targaryens have no dragons."

Memories played out in reverse order before Viserys' eyes, like a revolving door.

"I... I am Viserys Targaryen!?"

The two sets of memories overlapped, allowing Viserys to quickly determine his identity. He had gone from being a wandering mercenary to becoming the character in a TV series. He became the third Viserys, obsessed with restoring his country, but rejected everywhere, and finally trying to beg the Horselord for troops by betraying his sister. But the Horselord had used molten gold to finish him off!

The process of memory fusion made his temples throb, and he accidentally knocked over the wine glasses and bottles on the table.

Ding-a-ling-a-ling—

The clinking of copper and iron bottles and jars on the ground was jarring. Several earthenware jars shattered into pieces. Viserys frowned, propping himself up with his hands as he surveyed the mess around him. Before he could react, a figure in a pale blue dress appeared, frantically picking up the pieces.

The material of the dress was good but stained and water-marked, barely covering the girl's calves. The top was tight and clearly no longer fit her properly. She couldn't be called a little beggar, but she was definitely a child who had been neglected.

The little girl had the same silver hair and purple eyes as Viserys. Her small arms, bare and covered with bruises, looked as fragile as young onions, stirring a deep sadness in him. This was his sister, Dany, who had been with him since childhood.

He recalled her many names: Khaleesi of the Grass Sea, Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Shatterer of Chains, Liberator, Queen of the Andals and the First Men... But now, she was just a little girl, timid and broken from long-term abuse.

Viserys' personality had become twisted with each failed attempt to restore their kingdom, and being rejected everywhere they went. He spent his days drinking and taking out his frustrations on Dany. Now, he despised his own behavior—the weak lashing out at the even weaker.

Determined to change, he got up and moved to help Dany clean up. But as soon as he reached out, she quickly held her head in her hands and fell to the ground, trembling.

"Brother, I'll clean it up right away. Don't hit me!" she pleaded.

Looking at the small, trembling figure, Viserys, with his renewed sense of self, took a deep breath. 'You're not a brother, you're not a thing at all. What a lovely little sister you have, and you've made her so miserable!' he thought to himself.

He gently helped Dany up, her small face buried in his chest, her body shaking as if expecting the worst. A term from his old world, "white-haired loli," popped into his head. He quickly dismissed the thought and cupped her dirty little face in his hands.

Dany thought her brother was going to hit her again, so she frowned and closed her eyes tightly. Her delicate features twisted together, and her dirty little face wrinkled like a bun. Her small fists were clenched tightly, and she couldn't stop shaking.

"You go play by yourself. I'll clean up," came a gentle, comforting voice instead of the terrifying "Sleeping Dragon's Wrath."

Viserys rubbed Dany's head and then began tidying up the room himself. Dany, who had been sent away, watched in disbelief as her brother actually cleaned up. She couldn't recall the brother who used to tell her stories every night and teach her both the common tongue and Valyrian. Since leaving the Red Keep, they had led a life of wandering. Even after settling down, her brother's kind shadow seemed to disappear, replaced by an abusive stranger.

A year ago, Viserys had sold their mother's crown to throw a lavish party. Since then, he had been a completely different person, drinking and beating her all day long. Now, as she watched him clean, Dany couldn't believe her eyes.

Viserys, unaware of Dany's thoughts, knew only that their situation was dire. Ser Willem Darry, their caretaker, had long since passed away. The money they brought from Westeros had been squandered, and even the house they were living in was about to expire. On top of that, Robert Baratheon had been sending assassins to kill them. Fortunately, Viserys had been vigilant and managed to escape with Dany time and again.

It took Viserys about ten minutes to tidy up the room. Cleaning was a basic skill for him, and he quickly organized the messy space. However, this new body was not as strong as his old one. Even after this light chore, a fine layer of sweat had appeared on his back.

In theory, the original owner's physical condition should have been good. The Targaryen genes were there, and he had learned swordplay from a young age. Even in exile, he had no shortage of nutrition. But a year of self-indulgence had left his body depleted.

Viserys, now calmer, tried to think of a way to break the stalemate. Judging by his and Dany's ages, the story of A Song of Ice and Fire wouldn't begin for another four or five years. He needed to find a way to survive until then. But this was not easy for a prince who had lost his country and was living in exile. If he could, he would have preferred not to have this identity, avoiding constant assassination attempts.

His first thought was to return to his old profession, but his current body was too weak for war. So, the first task was to improve his physical fitness, which required a good diet. The problem was, he had no money.

As Viserys pondered how to make money, a blue light screen appeared in front of him.

"Oh, there's also that!"

Chapter 2: Add Points, Subtract Points

Viserys Targaryen

Health: 62.4

Spirit: 94.9

Constitution: 39.6

Magic: 7.1

---

Skills (Diamond):

Dragon Dreams: Ordinary (256/300) +

Skills (Gold):

Warfare: Ordinary (22/300) +

Skills (Silver):

Reconnaissance: Expert (2896/3000) +

Firearms: Expert (2733/3000) +

Combat: Expert (2995/3000) +

Swordsmanship: Ordinary (109/300) +

Riding: Ordinary (188/300) +

Skills (Bronze):

Valyrian: Proficient (985/1000) +

Court Etiquette: Proficient (911/1000) +

Common Tongue: Proficient (833/1000) +

Music: Proficient (533/1000) +

---

Assignable Points: 0.1

Assignable General Proficiency Points: 10

Looking at his own panel, Viserys gained a better understanding of his new body.

First, Health. It was clear that the scale was out of 100, and at 62.4, he was sub-healthy. Fortunately, there were no diseases, so with proper care, he could reach 70.

Then there was Spirit. Viserys was a genius student in the original work, and with the fusion of two souls, it was normal for his spirit to be high.

As for Constitution, it related to physical fitness. Despite the effects of heavy drinking, he could improve it through exercise.

The most intriguing skill to him was Dragon Dreams. Viserys realized that part of the memories he had inherited seemed to belong to the "dream world." In the original story, Robert sent many assassins to kill him and his sister, but Viserys had been able to escape with Dany repeatedly, likely due to these prophetic dreams.

Apart from Dragon Dreams, the other skills appeared ordinary at first glance. However, a closer look revealed a "+" and "-" next to each skill, indicating they could be adjusted. The skills also had four quality levels, and points and proficiency could be assigned.

'Let's try it first,' Viserys thought. He decided not to touch the Dragon Dreams skill for now, considering its critical role in their survival. Instead, he chose the skill closest to the limit of his level—Combat. He added 6 points of proficiency, and the Combat skill bar flashed silver and turned into Master.

Combat: Master (1/10000) +

Instantly, Viserys felt all his previous training experiences vividly come to life. His actual combat experience and even the images of combat matches he had watched became part of his strength. If he had been a master at fighting ten opponents before, now he was a master of hand-to-hand combat.

Excited, he stood up and performed a set of combat techniques. These military fighting techniques, though not aesthetically pleasing, were fierce and lethal.

Absorbed in his own fighting, Viserys didn't notice Dany, who was pressed against the wall, terrified. Her little body trembled, her face pale. To her, this display seemed like "Sleeping Dragon's Wrath" amplified.

But Viserys quickly ended his performance.

The whole process took less than five minutes. Viserys was out of breath, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Before he could even finish half of the martial arts routine, his legs went weak, and he sat down, exhausted.

He turned his attention back to the panel. Having just explored the "+" sign, he now decided to try the "-" sign. After considering various skills, he focused on "Court Etiquette." This skill seemed unnecessary for his current situation.

Clicking on "Court Etiquette" 100 times in a row, the Assignable General Proficiency Points only increased from 4 to 5. Realizing something, he switched his target to "Firearms." This time, clicking ten times increased his general proficiency by one point. Finally, he reduced the "Warfare" skill, gaining another point.

Viserys now understood the significance of skill levels and the relationship between Assignable General Proficiency Points and skills. High-quality skills could be exchanged for more general proficiency, which could then be allocated to any skill, regardless of quality or level.

However, when he looked closely at the diamond-level skill, he noticed the minus sign was gray, indicating it couldn't be reduced easily. Realizing that he and Dany still faced the threat of assassins, he decided to make some strategic adjustments to his skills.

For instance, they were currently in Braavos, where everyone spoke Valyrian. Thus, he only needed the Common Tongue skill to a level where he could understand and speak it. Since there were no firearms in this world, he could temporarily give up that skill.

After making these adjustments, Viserys gained 400 points of general proficiency, which he immediately added to his sword skills.

"Prince, you must pay attention to the key points of Swordsmanship and the transmission of power."

"Prince, treat the sword as an extension of your body..."

"Prince..."

For a moment, Ser Willem's voice and image appeared vividly before Viserys' eyes.

Swordsmanship: Proficient (329/1000) +

'Master-level combat skills combined with Proficient-level swordsmanship—I can feel the power surging!' he thought. However, his poor Constitution meant his body couldn't fully utilize his newfound skills.

Seeing that he still had 0.1 Assignable Points, he added them to Constitution. A warm current spread from his chest to his limbs, and then quickly disappeared. Although it wasn't very noticeable, he felt slightly stronger.

Meanwhile, Dany watched her brother, confused. He stared into the air, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes smiling foolishly. Her violet eyes were full of doubt, unable to understand his strange behavior.

When Viserys came to his senses, it was already dark. He stepped into the courtyard, where the golden afterglow illuminated the stone slabs beneath his feet. The distant sound of the sea breeze added a sense of tranquility to the evening.

He boiled some water, intending to give both himself and Dany a simple scrub. At first, Dany was nervous and scared. Her small, scarred arms were tucked in front of her chest, and she stood stiff and motionless. Normally, when her brother grabbed her head, it meant a beating. But this time, all she felt was a gentle wash.

The warm water ran down her hair, mingling with her tears. Little Dany couldn't discern what kind of tears they were—fear or injustice, sadness or happiness. The sobs she tried to hold back were drowned out by the sound of the water, and Viserys didn't hear them. He only knew that Dany had been left neglected for too long, and her hair had a distinct oily smell.

Dany was already eight years old, and for psychological reasons, Viserys only washed her exposed arms and legs. Due to the limited hot water, after giving her a simple wash, the water in the basin was too dirty to use further. Viserys simply wiped the sweat off his body with the water Dany had left over.

That night, little Dany rolled out her own bedding and spread it on the floor. Viserys had previously forbidden her from sleeping in the bed, a decision that now filled him with shame. Finally, after more than three years, Dany once again slept in her brother's arms and listened to him tell stories.

"Once upon a time, there was a mountain, and in the mountain, there was a temple. In the temple, there was an old holy sister and a little holy sister. The little holy sister wanted to hear the old holy sister tell a story... What story is it? Once upon a time there was a mountain..."

Dany sensed something was off with the story, but Viserys' soothing voice lulled her to sleep. That night, she slept more soundly than she had since their days in the house with the red door.

As he watched Dany sleep, Viserys began to contemplate their next steps. Braavos, a city comprised of hundreds of islands, was known as the "Bastard of Valyria." It was built by slaves who had rebelled against the Valyrian Empire. Braavos was a prosperous commercial hub, home to the famous Iron Bank, and its manufacturing and fishing industries were also quite developed. The city was particularly renowned for its assassins, bodyguards, and sex industry—though Viserys had no intention of considering the latter.

He realized that the original body he now inhabited still owed a debt, making Dany a likely target for their creditors. Should he leave Braavos first? With his low Constitution, the strain of these thoughts quickly overwhelmed him, and he drifted off to sleep.

"Beggar King, pay up!"

"Ah!"

"Brother! Brother, save me! No..."

"Let her go! No!"

Viserys suddenly jolted awake. He had dreamed of a man and several strong accomplices breaking into the house, knocking him down, and kidnapping Dany. This was unmistakably a Dragon dream. Based on past experience, what occurred in Dragon dreams would become reality within a few minutes.

Seeing Dany curled up next to him like a little kitten, he knew he had to act quickly.

Run away? Or fight back?

Chapter 3: Violent Debt Collection

According to the original plot, Viserys did not give up on his sister. The two of them spent several more years wandering until they were found by Illyrio Mopatis, a wealthy merchant of Pentos, who invited them to live in his mansion. Later, Illyrio arranged for Dany to marry the Horselord, Drogo. Following this pattern, the original Viserys would have chosen to stay.

Viserys analyzed the situation from his dream. There were four intruders: two young men of medium height and one tall, bald man. The bald man was about the same height as Viserys but much stronger, akin to comparing the strength of a thumb to a pinky.

In the dream, the bald man pinned him to the ground as the others took Dany away. Despite this, Viserys didn't want to flee. Leaving the courtyard would mean a return to a life of wandering, with no home and no food. This was unacceptable.

Moreover, having foreseen the other party's tactics and being a master of combat, he believed he could handle them. These men were ordinary people, while he had extensive training and experience.

Viserys glanced at Dany, who was still sleeping. Quietly, he took his sword from under the bed and left the room.

...

"Be careful, don't hurt the little girl!

"Yes, sir."

The three men responded in unison.

"As for that Viserys..." Helbo's eyes flashed with murderous intent. "Regis, break his leg."

In those days, a broken bone often meant death due to poor medical conditions. Helbo believed that as long as he didn't kill Viserys on the spot, the people behind him would handle the rest.

"Don't worry."

The bald man named Ghis replied in a deep voice, subconsciously clenching his fists, producing a crunching sound.

Helbo, having given his final instructions, was about to tell his servant to knock on the door. It was still dark, and they planned to take advantage of the situation to catch Viserys off guard.

Bang, bang, bang!

"Beggar King! Come out! Pay up!"

The voices of the men grew louder, drawing the attention of curious neighbors who peeked out of their windows and doors. When they first learned their neighbor was a former nobleman from Westeros, there was some talk. But after seeing Viserys' true state, they lost interest. In Braavos, a commercial city, a nobleman without money was despicable. What status could a descendant of a former dynasty have?

As people woke up and prepared to watch the spectacle, Dany, who had been sleeping soundly with her face buried in Viserys' side, was awakened. Her purple eyes were full of unease.

"Brother." Where is my brother?

Dany looked around but didn't see Viserys. She suddenly felt lost and helpless. She walked out of the room and saw Viserys standing in the courtyard.

"Brother..."

Before she could finish speaking, Viserys turned around and gestured for her to be silent, then motioned for her to go back into the room. Dany nervously retreated and peeked out of the window.

"What are you yelling about? I'm coming!" Viserys pretended to be impatient.

Seeing that his plan seemed to be working, Helbo was pleased. He could easily handle a rundown prince.

"Regis, when he opens the door, you hold him down! The rest of you come in with me and grab the little girl!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

The large, bald-headed Ghis stood at the door, waiting to pounce as soon as Viserys unlocked it. The others listened carefully to Viserys' footsteps and slowed their breathing.

"Beggar King! Open the door!" Helbo pretended to be in a hurry.

"What are you yelling about? Is your mother in my bed?!" Viserys shouted vulgarly to disorient his opponents, pulling the latch while shifting his weight backward to avoid any possible attack.

Viserys' cursing took Helbo by surprise. This was harsh. Is it really Viserys behind the door? But the voice was right.

'Hmph! I'll break both your legs and rip your mouth off!' Helbo thought viciously.

Regis, standing in front of the door, saw Viserys twitching the latch. He raised his thick arms like a bear, ready to pounce as soon as the door opened. Even the neighbors watching the spectacle knew what was about to happen. They held their breath, and Helbo's warning look made them even more afraid to make a sound.

Crack!

As soon as the old, mottled wooden door opened, Regis couldn't wait to slam it shut. Bang! The impact sent the door crashing back into the frame, and Viserys saw only a huge black figure lunging at him. He swiftly sidestepped to the left, avoiding the attack from the bald Ghis. Then, he landed a precise hook on Ghis's chin.

The technique, speed, and precision were impeccable, but the punch lacked power. Ghis staggered, slightly dizzy but not knocked out. The three men outside the door had not yet reacted when Viserys threw two more hooks, one to the left and one to the right, knocking them off balance. The last two fell because they didn't stand straight.

Viserys had the skills of a Combat Master, but his physical condition was lacking. After a brief moment of dizziness, the three men regained their footing and prepared to launch another attack. However, Viserys's sword was already at Helbo's neck, making them afraid to move.

Helbo was the most frightened. As an experienced thug, he preferred recruiting 13- or 14-year-old boys. Boys that age could be deadly, and he always went for the real thing—a white knife going in and a red knife coming out. Facing such a young man, he was acutely aware of the potential danger.

If he couldn't resolve this quickly, he'd be dead by the end of the day. Especially since he could smell the faint odor of alcohol on Viserys, indicating unpredictability. Helbo looked at Viserys, whose half-face was obscured by long silver hair, and stuttered:

"Calm down! Calm down! Give me the money, and I'll leave! I won't hurt you."

The situation had escalated so rapidly that Helbo didn't have time to organize his words. The neighbors watching from outside were equally shocked. They had seen Viserys before. He was tall but still thin, seemingly no match for the men confronting him. Yet, this sudden turn of events was unbelievable.

"You dare to sneak up on me? You want to die!" Viserys shouted angrily, his voice filled with fury. It seemed as though he might slit Helbo's throat at any moment.

Chapter 4: Working to Pay Off Your Debt

Dany, who was lying on the windowsill, watched the entire confrontation unfold. Seeing her brother, Viserys, display his dragon-like might with his purple eyes shining, she momentarily forgot about the wounds on her arm—wounds inflicted by Viserys not long ago.

Under the threat of the sharp blade, Helbo instructed the three men to wait outside the door, leaving him alone with Viserys to negotiate.

"Pri... Prince, we are only here to settle the outstanding payments with you. We really have no other intentions," Helbo said with a servile smile, his gold teeth twinkling and making his words even less credible.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you smell your own farts?" Viserys retorted, delivering each word with a staccato slap to Helbo's fat face, humiliating him with every strike. He suspected that the man before him was not a nobleman at all, but a street thug.

Dany, watching from behind the window, felt very satisfied. This thug had often appeared when Viserys was drunk, stealing things from their home and looking at her with ill intent, even attempting to touch her.

To Helbo's surprise, Viserys began discussing the debt after humiliating him. If Helbo were in control, he would have demanded an unreasonable sum. But now, he had to tread carefully.

"You owe us 132 gold coins, 26 silver moons, and some change."

Viserys glanced at his neck, and Helbo quickly revised his statement.

"One hundred and thirty gold coins. You give us one hundred and thirty gold coins, and we'll call it even."

Viserys couldn't even come up with three gold coins, let alone 130.

"Actually, it's all negotiable. We can give you a discount on the rest of the debt. Or... 125?"

Viserys remained silent, and Helbo, increasingly desperate, continued to haggle with himself.

"It can't be less than 120. I can't give you a lower price."

Viserys still didn't respond.

"One hundred and twenty! I'll find a way to get you the rest! One hundred and twenty! What do you think?"

Viserys still didn't say anything.

"It really can't be less, Prince. Would you like to name a price?" Helbo said, his respectful tone barely masking his desperation.

Viserys smacked his lips and then looked Helbo in the eye. "I don't have a single gold coin right now."

Helbo's expression froze.

"But I have other repayment options."

"Other?" Helbo's eyes shifted toward the house.

Sensing his gaze, Dany gasped and quickly hid under the window.

"Watch your eyes, or I'll pluck them out!" Viserys threatened coldly, his expression full of menace, as if he might bite Helbo's throat at any moment.

Helbo shivered and quickly apologized, "I-I-I didn't mean it that way. I thought you were talking about the house. You said, you said that."

Ignoring his flawed reasoning, Viserys asked, "Let me ask you a question first. If you receive 130 gold coins from me this time, how much will you get?"

"Huh?" Helbo, though he had a hunch about Viserys' intention, answered honestly, "Well, I can get about forty."

The debt collection industry is indeed highly profitable! Viserys' eyes lit up. This figure aligned with what he knew from his previous life. Depending on the difficulty of the collection, the debt collector might receive half or even more of the total amount owed. Some creditors were only interested in recouping a fraction or causing trouble for their debtors.

If he joined the industry, he could quickly earn enough to take care of his health and Dany. After recovering, he would join the mercenaries, maximizing his talents.

Viserys said, "Braavos is a big city. I'm sure I'm not the only one who owes money, right?"

Helbo was cautious, "What you mean is..."

"Yes, that's what I meant."

Helbo lowered his head, reaching for his beard before thinking better of it and touching his face instead. He had not come here for gold but for Dany. He had assumed Viserys was an easy target but realized he was wrong. The original plan had to be abandoned, making it difficult to explain to his employer.

Seeing his hesitation, Viserys added, "Selling people in Braavos, I think it's ten years of hard labor, right?" He pinched Helbo's neck, still smiling, but the gesture was menacing.

Helbo felt his soul being squeezed. He had made all the preparations, yet here he was, the passive party. The reward for capturing Dany was two hundred gold dragons, but now that money seemed too risky. Viserys' proposal had merit. Compared to ordinary teenagers, Viserys dared to fight and had martial arts skills. If he joined Helbo's "team," it could be beneficial. Helbo had several "businesses" lined up.

"Yes! I accept your offer. In a few days, I'll come to see you. How about we go together to help people who need to pay off their debts?" Helbo suggested with a smile.

"No problem. Then you can lend me some money first, and I'll deduct it from my salary, I mean, my compensation."

Helbo swallowed hard, feeling suffocated. When had he become a debt collector who not only couldn't collect money but also had to leave some behind? "Okay, okay, okay."

He took a heavy purse from his bosom and handed it to Viserys.

"Well, thank you. From now on, I'll call you 'Ser.'"

"No, no, you don't have to."

Helbo bowed slightly and turned to leave. Seeing a crowd of onlookers gathered outside, his face fell. Today's business trip was a failure, severely damaging his reputation. He put on a fierce look, trying to regain some dignity.

But he had not taken two steps when Viserys stopped him. "Wait."

Helbo felt a bitter taste in his mouth and quickly squeezed out another smile, the rapid changes in expression causing his facial muscles to twitch slightly. "Is there anything else, Prince?"

Viserys pointed to the broken door and said, "The door is worth two gold coins. Take it out of there."

...

Dany was overjoyed. Every time Helbo came, he always took something away. But this time, not only did he leave empty-handed, he also left a significant amount of money. The money would be enough for the two siblings to live on for a long time—assuming her brother Viserys didn't drink it all away.

Suddenly, a distant roar echoed through the air. It was the Titan of Braavos, the colossal statue that signaled the start of the city's day. The people of Braavos began their work with the roar of the Titan.

"Let's go! Let's get something to eat!" Viserys said.

"Okay~" Dany followed cheerfully.

Unlike the little girl's excitement, Viserys knew that their troubles were far from over. He remembered that the man who had lent him the money seemed to be a shipowner with three or five ships under his command. In those days, good sailors were hard to come by, and any shipowner capable of managing them was naturally formidable.

If the shipowner couldn't get Dany, he might try something else. Helbo had proven useless, so the shipowner would probably find someone more competent. The two of them were already at each other's throats.

Considering the laws of Braavos, if a creditor died, the debtor would also be suspected. Viserys decided it was crucial to pay off the debt first and then find an opportunity to eliminate the threat.

Chapter 5: Dance of Water

According to Viserys's judgment, Braavos might have once been a massive meteor crater. Its outer perimeter consists of a series of long, narrow mountain islands, resembling protective walls encircling the 'city of a thousand islands'. Not long after leaving the house, Viserys could see the statue of the Titan of Braavos, which had just roared. This nearly 300-meter-tall statue is one of the "Nine Wonders of the World." Every corner of Braavos offers a view of this magnificent statue.

"It may have been carved into the mountain, but it could also be magic..." Viserys mused. After all, magic existed in this world, and it was present in his own panel, so the assumption was not far-fetched.

Danglar lived in the wealthy district. Early in the morning, water vendors delivered "sweet water" to the area. To access this sweet water, the Braavosi built a waterway running through the city, called the Long Waterway. Wealthy families who lived farther from the Long Canal relied on water vendors to pull the water and sell it. To fetch a good price, these vendors dressed very cleanly.

When Viserys and Dany first left home, their somewhat shabby clothes didn't stand out. But compared to the well-dressed people around them, their attire was conspicuous. Viserys resolved to buy Dany a clean, well-fitting dress once he had some money left after paying off the gold coin Helbo had left him. As for himself, he would have to make do for now.

Following his memory, Viserys led Dany to the house of Danglar. It was a house with a courtyard, almost a mansion. As they arrived, a servant of the Danglar family was running out to buy water. Upon seeing the Viserys siblings, he instinctively tried to drive them away. But recognizing their silver hair, he sneered, "When will you pay me back, Beggar King?"

His voice carried, attracting the attention of passersby who turned to look. In Braavos, it was a great shame to be in debt, and this was a wealthy area where many had heard of the "Beggar King."

"He's the Beggar King?"

"Look at his clothes, he really is a beggar."

"Hey, he's even got a little beggar with him!"

Feeling the stares of the crowd, Dany hid behind Viserys' back. Viserys glanced at the people still talking and, with a cold gaze, made them choose to shut up.

"Now!" Viserys called out, pulling out his money bag and making a clattering sound with the coins inside. The metal coins produced a beautiful chime as they bounced around in the silk purse.

The servant reached out to take it, but Viserys quickly dodged. "Tell your master to come out with my debt note, and we'll be even."

Danglar, with his extensive experience as a sailor, appeared. He had lost an ear on a ship in his early years, leaving an unpleasant black hole on his left cheek. He couldn't fathom how Viserys had managed to gather the money. According to his plan, Dany should have been captured by Helbo and taken to his ship. But now, he saw the brother and sister standing before him, unharmed.

Viserys had a long sword on his back and was looking at him with cold eyes. "This kid, he's different," Danglar thought to himself, narrowing his brown eyes. Viserys, once a spirit on the verge of collapse, had been tricked into owing a large sum of money. But now, he was like a blade unsheathed, exuding a chilling presence.

"Count it. One hundred and thirty-five," Viserys said, tossing the money bag to Danglar.

Danglar didn't bother counting the coins; he simply weighed the bag in his hand, then took out Viserys's debt note. Viserys crumpled the note and gave Danglar a meaningful look. "Now we are even. Whatever misfortune befalls you in the future has nothing to do with me."

Hearing this, Danglar's heart sank. Viserys knew he couldn't appear weak. A proper display of intimidation might actually buy him more time.

As the siblings left, Danglar turned to his servant and ordered, "Go ask that Helbo guy what the hell he's doing!"

His face darkened. He wasn't just a small shipowner trying to get Dany; he was merely the white glove of a much larger and more powerful man.

...

"Black belly fish! Fresh black belly fish!"

"Onions, just in from the mainland!"

After leaving Danglar's, the siblings headed to the market. Unlike the wealthy district, the roads here were riddled with puddles and hidden 'mines' underfoot. The two walked through the market, with Dany trailing behind Viserys like a duckling after its mother.

Braavos, a sprawling city, was divided into seven or eight smaller towns. Viserys and Dany lived in Bitter Well Town, aptly named for its poor-quality drinking water but cheaper vegetables. The staple food for the common people in Braavos was fish, and vegetables were a rare commodity.

Viserys had previously avoided places like this market. But now, this place, devoid of industrial civilization, felt novel to him. Although he used to be a commoner who often begged for money, his targets were usually the upper class of Braavos. Among the common people, he wasn't well known. Additionally, while Braavos had its own descendants of Valyria, white hair and purple eyes were rare but not sensational.

His handsome face, however, still brought him some advantages. "Hey, sister, how much is this fish?" Viserys asked, a smile on his lips, his good looks evident.

The female stall owner, wearing a dark green vest, blushed slightly. "Uh, five. I mean three iron coins for one."

Three coins—a reasonable price. "Okay, please pick me out a few."

"Okay~" The stall owner's voice softened, almost like a whisper.

Somehow, the fish today were particularly slippery, and the woman was a little flustered. Even so, she picked out the fattest sea fish for Viserys. Under the guise of handing the fish to Dany, she slipped a few extra oysters into the bundle.

As the brother and sister left, the woman felt a surprising sense of loss, so much so that she didn't hear her customers calling out to her.

"Boss! Are you still open for business?"

A grumble pulled her back to reality, and her previously cheerful expression turned sour. "What are you yelling about? Pick what you want!"

After leaving the market, Viserys bought two more daggers. With these, his close combat killing power would reach a new level. Additionally, he anticipated needing more tools next time, so he found some elastic rope at the market and planned to make two simple crossbows.

He then bought Dany a linen dress. Although the material and color were not as fine as her blue dress, it was clean, suitable, and Dany liked it very much.

Just as the siblings were about to leave, a commotion arose around the market.

"There's a duel between two swordsmen in the square!" A boy in a yellow long-sleeved shirt shouted as he ran, drawing everyone's attention.

Instantly, many people paused their activities. Idle chatter ceased, leisurely strollers stopped, and even young lovers were momentarily distracted.

"Let's go, wait for me."

"Hurry up! This time it's Kells, the Swordsman under Lady Lida! He's a master of the Water Dance!"

'Dance of the Water! Isn't that the famous skill of the little wolf girl Arya Stark?'

Intrigued, Viserys decided to take Dany over to watch.

Chapter 6: Automatic System

As news of the duel spread, the market didn't empty out entirely, but it grew much quieter. Dany's eyes sparkled with excitement, clearly wanting to go. ordinaryly, Viserys would have forbidden her from running around, but seeing her eagerness, he relented.

"Let's go! Let's take a look," Viserys said, putting the water jar in a relatively hidden spot. He took Dany's hand and they hurried toward the square. Dany's face flushed with excitement as she tried to keep up with Viserys' pace.

Viserys was very interested in the so-called Water Dance. Arya Stark, Ned's daughter, had learned the Water Dance from a Braavosi swordsman in King's Landing, and she used this skill to kill the Night King. These techniques were truly remarkable.

Realizing Dany's short legs couldn't keep up, Viserys picked her up under his arm and strode toward the square with long steps. They arrived just as the two swordsmen were in the middle of a fierce battle.

"Dany, come!" Before she could react, Dany found herself on Viserys' shoulders. At first, she felt a bit embarrassed but quickly settled, feeling this was better than when she was little. Perhaps it was a compensation from the Seven Gods?

Dany soon focused on the two swordsmen. To Viserys, the Water Dance technique resembled the fencing competitions he had seen. The two swordsmen appeared to be around twenty years old, standing sideways and fighting on a single line. One wore a light yellow shirt, the other a dark red one. They moved swiftly and gracefully, like deer in the mountains or squirrels on tree branches. The light from their swords flashed, drawing cheers from the crowd.

Despite the elegance, the fight was brutal. The man in the yellow shirt had several wounds, with bright red blood soaking his clothes, making him look miserable. The scene scared Dany, who nervously grabbed Viserys's shoulder. Viserys, however, was fully engrossed in the duel.

He observed that the Water Dance swords were very narrow, aimed at speed. Though not as thin as fencing swords, they were only about two fingers wide, likely ineffective against armor. Still, the swordsmanship had merits, especially in footwork. Unlike the stability-focused swordplay of Westeros, the Water Dancers prioritized agility.

Viserys decided that if given the chance, he would learn this technique, and teach it to Dany too. In their current situation, acquiring more skills could only help.

Predicting the duel's outcome, Viserys noted that despite the yellow-shirted swordsman's injuries, they were superficial. The maroon-shirted swordsman, though appearing fine, was in worse condition. His steps were already disorganized, his deeper injuries masked by the color of his clothes. As their bloodied clothing soaked, Viserys saw that Dany seemed scared.

"Let's go," he said, taking her away.

"Yes," Dany nodded, relieved.

...

Dany was very happy. To her, Viserys was becoming more and more human. Not only had he stopped abusing her, but he also carried her around to watch duels and now, he even cooked for her. The sweet, braised fish melted in her mouth. The joy brought by a satisfying meal was incomparable!

Soon, the two siblings had eaten their fill. Dany tried to help with the dishes, but Viserys stopped her.

"We just finished eating. Let's talk about it later."

"Mm-hmm," Dany nodded and sat down next to Viserys. She felt that her brother had changed a lot, but she couldn't figure out why. Her little brain worked hard to understand. She inched closer to Viserys, and when he didn't object, she rested her head on his lap. Viserys opened his arms and let her rest, soon hearing the light sound of her snoring.

He opened his panel to see if he could improve his skills. As he did, he noticed something strange.

"I remember that firearms became an entry-level skill yesterday, but now it's a ordinary skill?"

Viserys had reduced his firearms skills to Entry-level (100/100) +, but now it had become Ordinary (87/300) +. He looked at his skills in court etiquette and common language, and sure enough, they had both increased by dozens of points. The other skills that had not been deducted remained unchanged.

Despite the oddity, Viserys was excited. This meant something significant. If he learned more skills and mastered them to a certain extent, he would gain a steady stream of proficiency points! He checked the Assignable Points again and found they had increased from 4 to 17.

"Huh? I've gained 13 points?"

He saw that the Assignable Points had now become 0.1, seeming to refresh every day. "Assignable Points seem to increase by 0.1 daily, and Proficiency points fluctuate," he mused. He had only been in this world for less than a day, so there were too few samples to draw concrete conclusions. However, Viserys realized his system was more powerful than he had initially estimated.

For now, upgrading his swordplay and combat skills would take time. Therefore, he needed to start making crossbows as soon as possible. He glanced at the gutted fish on the ground.

The merchant had told him that the fish contained paralytic toxins and needed to be cleaned thoroughly before eating.

After carrying the already asleep Dany back to bed, Viserys began working on the crossbow. In addition to the crossbow, he also wanted to set up some warning mechanisms. As he looked at the wooden doors and the wall, an idea began to form in his mind.

...

Danglar had experienced a string of bad luck over the past two years. He once commanded five ships, but four had sunk, and the fifth was still missing. Now, he was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

At this desperate moment, a Braavos nobleman from the upper reaches of the Long Canal approached him. This nobleman, of course, didn't show his face but sent a servant to offer Danglar a hefty sum of a thousand gold dragons to acquire Dany, the princess of the fallen kingdom.

The nobleman chose Danglar because, even before he became wealthy, Danglar had been a hooligan with a lot of experience in shady dealings. He was a qualified white-glove, capable of handling delicate and dirty work. So, when Helbo failed, Danglar immediately sought help from another group.

He turned to Banergar from the "Fierce Fish Company".

The Fierce Fish Company was notorious among the lower classes of Braavos, implicated in more than a dozen murders. To this day, no fewer than twenty members were fugitives, each with at least one murder to their name.

Take Banergar, for example. In his early years, he had been involved in a gang war and had his left cheek slashed off. Due to limited medical care, it couldn't be stitched up, leaving his left teeth exposed. He looked like a zombie from a movie, his face grotesque and menacing even without making facial expressions. When he smiled, he looked ready to bite someone's neck off.

"I don't care what method you use. After the job is done, 300 gold dragons!" Danglar demanded.

Banergar sneered, "Heh, I've seen that little bitch from the fallen kingdom. Even without her status, she's worth 500 gold dragons just for her face. Do you think I'm stupid?"

As he spoke, Banergar twisted his neck, deliberately showing Danglar his yellow, mottled teeth. But Danglar was no saint either.

"This is Braavos. Do you know how much it would cost to settle this just because she is a fallen princess?" Danglar countered.

Banergar was unmoved. He took a sip of wine and stood up, "Then find someone else."

He pretended to leave, testing Danglar's resolve. One step, two steps, and Banergar was about to leave. It was only about ten steps from Danglar's desk to the door.

Danglar finally caved, "Name a number."

Banergar smiled and turned around, his relatively intact right cheek submerged in darkness, while the light from outside shone on his broken left cheek, making him look like a ferocious fish with its teeth bared and claws outstretched.

"Five hundred gold dragons, plus 20% of the last ship you own," Banergar demanded.

Danglar knew that Banergar was also trying to clean up his act and planned to buy some property.

"Done!" Danglar agreed.

Chapter 7: Violent Debt Collection II

"Raise your hand higher! Shoot it at me!" Viserys instructed.

Dany held the crossbow that Viserys had made for her, her small, thin arms trembling as she fired it. Whoosh! The arrow flew, but Viserys barely had to move to avoid it. He simply stood there, and the arrow didn't even come close.

"Why are you closing your eyes again? If you keep doing that, you'll have to do extra training at night!" Viserys scolded.

Dany pouted, feeling a bit aggrieved. Why is Viserys so strict again? Since he made the crossbows, he had been making her practice every day. Her arms were sore, and her delicate hands had blisters. It wasn't until Viserys sewed her a simple pair of gloves that the problem was alleviated.

In truth, Dany couldn't be blamed. She wasn't yet the "Mother of Dragons" she would become. She was just a shy little girl, and Viserys, with habits from his previous life, sometimes let his tone become harsh or irritable without realizing it. This made her think the old, cruel Viserys had returned, which scared her.

Seeing her expression, Viserys knew he had pushed her too hard. He desperately hoped that Dany would be able to protect herself to some extent, but she was only a little girl under eight years old. Not every child was as ruthless as Arya Stark, who was brave enough to kill at a young age. Judging by the future performances of Dany and Arya, Dany would focus her talents on politics, while Arya would excel in martial arts.

Viserys went over to Dany and rearranged her hair, which was damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead. "Take a break," he said, taking the crossbow from her hands.

But she pulled back and shook her head. "No, brother, I'm not tired." She retrieved another wooden arrow from her waist bag and expertly loaded it.

"Okay, this time we'll change the target to that wine jar." Viserys positioned himself behind Dany, taking her hand holding the crossbow and pointing it at the wine jar twenty paces away. "When shooting, you must look at the target, not the crossbow, and definitely not close your eyes."

Viserys' patient teaching calmed Dany's nerves. "You have to look at your target and imagine the crossbow in your hand as part of your body. Nothing will escape your eyes. Fire!"

Dany pulled the trigger, and the clay wine jar was pierced with a dark hole. "I hit it!" she exclaimed, turning to Viserys with her violet eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Good, practice more and get the feel for it."

"Mmm!" Dany nodded vigorously and took out another crossbow bolt.

...

In just over half a month since Helbo and his gang last paid a visit, the siblings' self-defense skills had improved considerably. Dany, for instance, could hit a target within ten paces five or six times out of ten, and within five paces almost every time. She was no longer the helpless lamb she had once been.

Viserys, meanwhile, had focused on improving his Constitution over the past ten days. He had already increased his physical strength to nearly 45 points. The main reason for this improvement was that he had stopped drinking, allowing his body to recover naturally. Any further gains would have to come gradually, but he estimated that with half a year, he could raise his Constitution to around 60 points. This would be the level of an adult strongman, capable of serving as a heavy infantryman or heavy cavalryman in the army. With a year of training, reaching 80 points seemed attainable, equating to the level of an ordinary general. Factoring in the system, which could provide 36 attribute points per year, he could undoubtedly grow into a first-class general. The sellswords scattered across the continent would be a paradise for him to excel in.

Additionally, some of his skills had recovered significantly. His firearms skills had returned to the proficient level, and he had made progress in other areas as well. However, he still had a long way to go before advancing from Proficient to Expert in swordsmanship.

During these ten days, Viserys had noticed several unfamiliar faces around his house. These individuals thought they were being discreet, but to a skilled scout, they were glaringly obvious. By following their trails, Viserys had managed to get close to their lair at night and discovered their origins. If his physical fitness were even half as good as it had once been, he was confident he could track them down completely. He estimated that the group would make their move within the next two days, which was why he had been so insistent on Dany practicing with the crossbow.

In Braavos, items like bows and arrows were controlled, but a sharpened wooden stick could be just as effective. The gang would never come after him in armor, so a sharpened stick would be enough to pierce human skin.

"Fierce Fish Company! Let's see how fierce you really are," he muttered. Raising his hand, he shot, skewering two leaves and nailing them to the door.

...

Banergar took Viserys's business very seriously. This was his chance to rise from the ranks of the landless riffraff to the merchant class and improve his social status. In Braavos, merchants were a respected profession, considered the backbone of the city. They even had a better chance of being elected as the Sealord, the supreme ruler of Braavos, than the average citizen.

The requirements for becoming a merchant were very strict. First of all, one needed to own property. In Braavos, the sale of property required a guarantor, and no one would guarantee a man with Banergar's background and criminal record. He had finally managed to get a guarantee from Danglar, so he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.

This time, he was going all out. He learned from Helbo that Viserys was particularly good at melee combat. So, Banergar hired a master water dancer at a high price. In addition, he brought five of his men, each armed with a wooden spear. Tonight, they were here for Viserys's life.

"Enghis, let's get ready to move." Enghis was the sword dancer he had hired. Enghis, in his early thirties, had a scar on his left eyebrow and yellow eyes, one big and one small, suggesting a past injury in battle. He had fled Braavos after mistakenly killing someone but was found by Banergar, who promised him a generous reward for this job.

"Hmm," Enghis replied briefly. After this deal, he would take the murder charge, leaving Banergar worry-free. In addition to him, Banergar had also paid off the guards in the area to make their ears less sensitive, ensuring absolute certainty in his plan.

After confirming everything with Enghis, Banergar gave his men some final instructions. Leaving one man on guard, the group slipped into the darkness, heading for Viserys's quarters.

At that moment, Viserys suddenly opened his eyes. He had just woken up from a Dragon dream in which he had been attacked.

"Dany! Dany! Wake up!" he called.

Groggy, Dany heard Viserys's call. "Stay in the room and hide! Do you understand?"

Dany, still confused, took the crossbow. She saw Viserys put two crossbows on his waist, then pick up his sword and quietly approach the front door.

From his Dragon dream, Viserys knew that not only was there a swordsman with excellent swordsmanship, but there were also sentries outside. He couldn't escape; he had no choice but to fight!

Chapter 8: Midnight Bloodshed

Viserys used wine bottles and jars to create makeshift alarm mechanisms. Whether Banergar and his men tried to climb over the wall or sneak in through the door, they would be detected. Hiding in the shadows of the corner of the wall, he waited quietly, listening intently for any sound outside.

Soon, he heard a rustling noise at the door. Before he could figure out what the men were up to, there was a loud crash. The door fell straight from its frame, hitting the ground with a thud and sending up a shower of leaves and dust. They had actually broken down his door!

Several men armed with wooden spears burst in, quickly taking over the yard. Some even carried torches. This was what it meant to have a weapon in hand.

Just as they were about to break into the room, two loud sounds echoed through the yard. A man with a torch and another with a wooden spear let out muffled groans. They turned to see where the crossbow bolts had come from.

There stood a young man with silver hair by the wall. Banergar recognized him immediately and shouted, "Kill him!"

The two men who had been shot didn't even have time to realize where they were wounded before collapsing. Their feet seemed to melt beneath them, and they could hardly stand.

Time was running out. Viserys didn't have time to reload both crossbows, so he threw the one in his hand at the man closest to him. He then took the opportunity to reload the other crossbow and fired, killing another man.

"He's out of arrows! Get him!" Banergar, the first to react, picked up the fallen torch and shouted.

At this point, Banergar stood with two others: a swordsman and a spearman. He had thought this attack foolproof but didn't expect to lose half his men so quickly.

Banergar looked at Viserys, his exposed fangs gleaming in the torchlight, making him look like a ghost crawling out of hell. He licked his lips menacingly.

Viserys and the swordsman simultaneously drew their swords and faced off.

"This guy's got some skill," Viserys thought as he sized up his opponent. The next moment, the swordsman Enghis attacked, his speed incredible, the sound of his sword slicing through the air sharp and menacing.

Viserys quickly felt the pressure; Enghis's swordsmanship was clearly superior. Worse, the spearman beside him harassed him intermittently, adding to his frustration. Desperate, Viserys drew back, pulled the dagger from his waist, and hurled it at the spearman.

A sound like fabric tearing filled the air as the dagger found its mark, piercing the minion's body. But Enghis seized the opportunity and lunged at Viserys. Despite his best efforts to evade, a gash five or six inches long was carved into his side.

Viserys threw his dagger again, but Enghis easily dodged it. Banergar, holding a torch, was shocked. He had prepared meticulously, yet this kid had managed to survive. This couldn't continue. Though Enghis had the upper hand, Banergar decided to intervene. He threw the torch aside, picked up a wooden spear, and circled around to Viserys's back.

Viserys knew Banergar's intentions but was too preoccupied with Enghis to react. Soon, Banergar saw his chance and thrust the spear at Viserys's lower back. Despite being outmatched in swordsmanship, Viserys's close combat skills were masterful. His vigilance and reflexes were top-notch. He grabbed the spear before it pierced his skin, preventing further injury.

Enghis took advantage of the moment and swung his sword. Viserys blocked it with his own, holding the spear in his left hand and parrying with his right. Enghis's face contorted in a grimace of exertion and excitement at the thought of killing a prince, his brown eyes full of cruelty like a hyena.

Banergar growled and pushed harder with the spear, but Viserys felt his grip weakening. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer—maybe three seconds, five at most, before he would be overpowered.

Suddenly, Banergar's body shook, and his strength deflated like a punctured balloon. Sensing the change, Viserys pulled and twisted, yanking the spear from his body and thrusting it forward. Banergar, unable to control his momentum, drove the spear into Enghis.

Enghis, caught off guard, had his center of gravity on his sword. It was too late to evade. The wooden spear pierced his abdomen, and Viserys seized the moment to slash Enghis's throat. Enghis dropped his sword, a wheezing sound escaping his lips as he clawed at his neck, choking on his own blood.

The sudden reversal was all due to Banergar's inexplicable loss of strength. Viserys turned and saw Dany standing there, crossbow in hand, ready to shoot.

"Good! It was worth practicing!" Viserys thought, grateful he had made the right decision to save him and his sister.

Dany dropped the crossbow and quickly ran to Viserys's side. "Brother, you're hurt!"

"It's nothing! Just a superficial wound!" Viserys reassured her. He knew that if a wound felt hot, it was usually superficial. Only if you felt weak after being injured was it truly dangerous. Although the two wounds on his body hurt, they were not fatal. As long as he kept them clean and prevented infection, he would be fine.

He was lucky that Banergar, perhaps fearing he might injure his own men in the dark, had not smeared his weapons with strange substances.

But Viserys felt no gratitude for that. During his scouting, he had learned that Banergar had two sons, both in their late teens. Banergar planned for one son to continue his underworld business while the other inherited the legitimate businesses.

Viserys knew he couldn't kill everyone; it would complicate the court's decisions. But Banergar's two sons had to be eliminated. Otherwise, the entire Fierce Fish Company would retaliate against him under their leadership, with endless consequences.

Besides, a young man defending his sister against intruders was already a remarkable feat. No one would expect him to take the fight to the man's home. Not only would they not think of it, but they also wouldn't believe it. If he didn't seize such a good opportunity, he would be a fool.

He tied up the unconscious men and instructed Dany to shoot them if they woke up, forbidding her from communicating with them in any way. Meanwhile, Viserys slipped into the night with his crossbow and dagger.

Chapter 9: Night of Blood and Fire

As an island city, Braavos was teeming with seagulls. Viserys disposed of the lookout without a second thought and tossed the body into the sea. Following his predetermined route to Banergar's lair, he climbed to a high point and surveyed the surroundings.

To the northeast, near the Long Channel, the lights were bright. This area housed the Sealord's palace, several magnificent temples, and the great theater known as "The Gate. The upper reaches of the Long Channel could be considered the center of Braavos.

He then turned his gaze towards the northwest, where the Titan of Braavos stood. This iconic structure served as both the city's beacon and its first line of defense, housing an arsenal. Viserys noticed the lights there seemed unusually bright, which was advantageous. If something happened elsewhere, it would be less likely to be noticed.

After confirming his direction, Viserys continued on his way.

At Banergar's mansion:

"Carmon, did you hear the screams? This little bitch is hot. Why don't you go try her out?" The young man speaking had a lewd smile, clearly relishing the thought. He was Banergar's eldest son, Caperson. The two men looked remarkably similar.

Caperson's puffy eyes betrayed that he was overtaxing his body.

"Not interested. Isn't Father going to take on The Beggar King? His sister is the Princess of a fallen kingdom. I'll save my appetite for that." Compared to his brother, Carmon was slightly plumper, and the two brothers did not look much alike. But the obscene expression and mannerisms were identical.

"Hey, you're dreaming. That fallen bitch is a big shot in Braavos, and she's from one of the three great houses. If she's not a virgin, she's worthless." Caperson took a sip of wine and continued, "You'd better keep your pants on and not ruin Father's business."

Hearing this, Carmon put down his wine glass with some disappointment. "Hmph! Damn it, what's so great about these big shots? They just have better women than we do!" He unbuttoned his shirt and walked into the back room.

"Hey, don't go too far. You have to give her back to Old Pigskin tomorrow!"

"Oh, I know!" Carmon waved impatiently.

Caperson walked to the window, his sparse chest hair exposed, and enjoyed the sea breeze while drinking. But after a while, he didn't hear any sound from the back room.

"What's this guy up to now?" He wondered, but shrugged it off and continued enjoying the night view.

"The triennial Ten-Day Festival is about to begin. I wonder if I'll have the chance to meet Lady Falia, the Moonshadow." Caperson squinted towards the Titan of Braavos.

Every three years, Braavos held the "Masked Festival." On the last day of the festival, people removed their masks to the roar of the Titan of Braavos. The festival included three competitions: a sword-fighting competition, a music competition, and the highly anticipated beauty pageant. The prizes for each competition were generous.

Caperson reminisced about his previous participation in the festival, lost in fantasy. However, after a long time, he still didn't hear the poor girl's screams, which struck him as odd.

"Carmon? Carmon!"

Suddenly, Caperson felt a chill in his throat, his hair stood on end, and his scalp felt as if it were about to burst.

"What do you want?"

"Hand over all the money." The voice was cold and gloomy, and Caperson did not dare to think otherwise.

"Okay, okay, I'll get it. I'll get it."

He quickly went to the corner of the room, lifted a hidden floor panel, and revealed various deeds and shiny coins.

"The money is all..."

Before Caperson could finish his sentence, he felt a cold sensation at the base of his neck, and then he fell to the ground, writhing in agony, just like the swordsman Enghis.

It was Viserys. He didn't care about Caperson's miserable state but instead stuffed the coins from the secret compartment into a pocket he had prepared in advance. Two or three hundred gold coins and hundreds of silver moons were enough to support the siblings for several years.

As for the contracts and other documents, Viserys, of course, did not take them.

Suddenly, Viserys found a black dagger.

[Dragonbone Dagger: provides 1 assignable attribute point, daily assignable attribute point increase of 0.05]

The message, as if projected directly onto his retina, made him pause. The so-called Dragonbone Dagger is a dagger made from Dragonbone—light, sharp, and tough. The Dragonbone Dagger and the Dragonbone Bow are both weapons that warriors are eager to obtain.

He inserted the dagger at the back of his waist, then loaded the coins. The coins were not heavy, weighing only three or four catties. He hung them on his body, lit the candles, set the curtains on fire, and then turned around to find the poor girl in the room.

The girl was about fourteen years old. When Viserys had just entered, Carmon had been about to do something to her. The girl seemed resigned to her fate, lying motionless on the bed like a pale, dead fish.

Viserys slit Carmon's throat, comforted the girl, and then returned to kill Caperson. He chose to save her because he was wearing a mask. Plus, he could tell that the girl was being forced, so at least she wouldn't say anything if anyone asked.

When he tried to help her up, she struggled to resist.

"Kill me," the girl said weakly, her voice like a wounded oriole, sad and melodious.

Viserys was silent for a moment. He had overheard Caperson and Carmon's conversation. There seemed to be someone else behind this, someone called Old Pigskin. He could save her now, but not forever. And he was in danger himself.

"You can give me the candle, please." He knew the girl wanted to make it look like she had started the fire.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Sissi," she replied bitterly.

"Okay, Sissi."

Viserys took her head in his arms and gently twisted it, ending her suffering.

Banergar lived in a wealthy neighborhood where the houses were spaced out. When Viserys left, his house was like a huge lampshade in the darkness, the orange glow of the fire faintly visible. Soon, the flames roared like a giant python, consuming the entire house. The fire burned for nearly three hours before it was discovered. By that time, Viserys had already returned to his courtyard.

Dany was holding a crossbow, her eyes wide with fear as she kept watch over the tied-up intruders. When she saw a figure at the door, she quickly aimed the crossbow. Realizing it was her brother, she relaxed. She was only eight years old and felt exhausted after the tension.

As soon as she stood up, she nearly fell. Fortunately, Viserys was quick and caught her.

"How is it? Have they woken up yet?" he asked.

Dany shook her head. "No, they didn't get up."

Seeing his little sister so tired made Viserys feel a pang of sadness. He carried her to bed and tucked her in.

"Dany, I didn't go anywhere tonight. Do you remember?" he said gently.

Dany looked confused but nodded, trusting her brother.

"Repeat it," Viserys insisted.

"Brother, you didn't go anywhere. You were with me the whole time."

Satisfied, Viserys covered her with the quilt. He went back to the courtyard and looked at Banergar and the others, who were still unconscious. They had come to rob him but had lost everything instead. He couldn't let them go, but he needed to plan carefully to maximize his own interests.

Chapter 10: The Fierce Fish-Eater

It was in the early morning hours that Banergar and the others finally regained consciousness under the effects of the paralyzing toxin. This toxin wasn't an anesthetic; it was truly toxic. To verify its strength, Viserys had even personally caught a mouse to test it.

As Banergar came to his senses, he felt as if the earth beneath him was spinning. His internal organs were in complete turmoil, and the taste in his mouth was both fishy and bitter, making him feel nauseous and uncomfortable.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a knife being sharpened. He opened his eyes and saw a silver-haired youth holding a sword and a whetstone, polishing the blade with great force. Sparks flew from the blade as he worked. Banergar couldn't shake the feeling that the young man before him was not merely the descendant of a fallen kingdom, as the rumors suggested. Instead, he seemed like a demon with blood-sucking fangs, always ready to pounce.

In fact, Banergar's instincts were correct. After nearly ten years of military service, Viserys had seen plenty of blood. And a lot of it.

"Oh, Lord of the Fierce Fish, you're awake," Viserys said with a playful tone.

Banergar, recalling the scene of Viserys killing his men last night, decided to tread carefully. "Danglar, my creditor, ordered me to do it. I can give you some money or pay your debt for you," Banergar said cautiously. He thought it best not to engage in empty talk with the young man in front of him and to offer something tangible instead.

Viserys did not respond immediately. Instead, he pointed at Enghis's corpse and said, "This guy is wanted in Braavos. I don't know what you're doing with him."

Banergar's mouth twitched. He guessed that Viserys was asking for a price. "Then name your price," Banergar tried to put on a smile.

"I want to know who is trying to kill me and my sister," Viserys said, putting down the whetstone and walking up to him.

After two attacks in a row, he needed to know the truth. Although Danglar was Banergar's creditor, Viserys believed he wasn't the one targeting the siblings. From the conversation between Banergar's two sons last night, Viserys suspected there was someone else behind it. Even if he hadn't overheard the conversation, he could have guessed as much.

After all, Viserys had seen the "script." He remembered that the merchant Illyrio, who had arranged a marriage between Dany and the Horselord in the original story, had once said he wanted to marry Dany. But he also thought Dany was too cowardly, so he gave up on the idea. However, in Viserys's opinion, this was nonsense. How could a businessman who valued profit above all else be so unobjective? The only reason was that he thought he couldn't keep Dany. It would only cause trouble!

Illyrio was someone who could negotiate with the Horselord, and he was a cut above Danglar. If Illyrio wouldn't dare to think about Dany, Danglar certainly wouldn't!

So Viserys wanted to get some clues from Banergar. Of course, Banergar denied knowing anything. Although he didn't know the identity of the big shot, he knew that he definitely couldn't afford to provoke him.

"You really don't know?" Viserys asked, his voice laced with menace.

"I really don't know!" Banergar insisted, gritting his teeth. He decided to stand firm. After all, could this young man really kill him? Viserys had already killed two people; if he killed too many, the consequences would be severe. Viserys also had a young sister to think about, so he would likely choose to stop before things got out of hand.

But Viserys simply snickered and pulled out a hemp rope from somewhere. He had tied a long nail to the end of it. Holding it against the throat of one of Banergar's henchmen, he asked again, "You really don't know?"

Banergar felt his tongue go numb, still refusing to believe that Viserys would kill them all. "I really, really don't know!"

Viserys looked down at the henchman, who was already shaking like a leaf. Without hesitation, he drove the long iron spike into the man's jaw. With a scream, the spike passed through his jaw and out of his mouth, making the man writhe in agony like a fish on a hook.

"Still don't know?!" Viserys asked, his voice rising.

Banergar felt the stiffness spreading to his neck, but he still managed to shake his head. Viserys repeated the process, driving the nail through the jaw of another henchman. "Still not remembering?!"

Banergar felt a chill run down his spine. His earlier bravado was gone, and his molars, usually a sign of his menace, now chattered with fear. Viserys grabbed his throat and drove the iron spike through his mouth, eliciting screams of pain that echoed through the neighborhood.

Viserys was frustrated. Banergar's refusal to divulge any information suggested that whoever was targeting the siblings was powerful. But the fact that this person was hiding meant their reputation was important. If Viserys and his sister were to survive in Braavos, they needed to show they were not to be trifled with.

Viserys strung up the bodies of the living and the dead alike. He noticed someone peeking out from behind a door. It was a water vendor who lived nearby, usually selling sweet water from the Long Canal with a donkey in tow.

"Hey, you, come here!" Viserys called out.

The skinny water vendor was taken aback and pointed at himself in disbelief. "Yes, you. Your donkey. I'd like to borrow it."

"Okay, okay," the vendor replied, quickly leading his donkey over.

Viserys took a silver moon coin from his pocket and tossed it to the vendor. "I'll pay you back tomorrow!"

"Okay, you go ahead," the vendor stammered, not daring to refuse. A silver moon coin was worth a week's food for a family of five, and also represented two days' income for him.

Viserys tied the wailing Banergar to the back of the donkey, preparing to take them to the mayor. Braavos was too large for the Sealord, the supreme ruler, to manage every corner of the city personally. When Viserys had first arrived in Braavos, the Sealord had seen some potential in him, meeting with him and even acting as his best man. But now, Viserys had lost much of that favor. Perhaps there was still a bit of affection left, but it wasn't something to be relied on now.

"Dany, let's go out for a while and come back in the afternoon to sleep!" Viserys called to his sister.

"Oh, okay," Dany replied, getting up from the bed a little dizzy. She followed Viserys to the mayor's office.

...

"Oh my God! What am I seeing? Those people, is he the Beggar…" A passerby was about to utter "The Beggar King" but quickly swallowed the words.

There was no mistaking the terror that Viserys inspired at that moment. His clothes were soaked in blood, and he was dragging several people behind him like fish on a line.

"That's Banergar! Oh my God! It's Banergar!" The street was bustling with early morning activity as people began their day. It didn't take long for someone to recognize Banergar, a man with a terrible reputation, now in such a pitiful state. And the young man leading the donkey was clearly responsible for it.

Viserys, leading the donkey, exuded a chilling aura. Dany, sitting on the donkey's back, blushed at the attention they were receiving. Behind the donkey trailed Banergar and his men. Their mouths were pierced by hemp ropes, and they had to support the dead bodies of Enghis and another henchman, all strung up like fish by Viserys.

As they made their way through the streets, the residents of Bitter Well Town parted to make way for the grim-faced teenager. Everywhere he walked, a long trail of blood followed. From that day on, in Bitterwell, the name "Viserys The Fierce Fish-Eater" officially replaced "The Beggar King."

Chapter 11: The Fierce Fish Mansion Collapsed

"My lord, that's what happened. They broke into my house in the middle of the night and tried to kidnap my sister. Braavos has strict laws against human trafficking. Not only that, they were mixed up with the most heinous of wanted criminals!" Viserys recounted the events of the previous night to the mayor, carefully omitting any details that might cast him in a negative light.

He had imagined the 'court' in Braavos to be like those depicted in historical dramas: the Lord of Justice presiding in the main hall, a crowd of onlookers gathered outside, and a magistrate clapping a gavel to the applause of the people. However, the reality was quite different. He found himself in a relatively spacious hall with fireplaces around the room and stone slabs covering the floor. There were no ordinary people outside, but a number of important-looking individuals who had come to watch the proceedings.

These observers, dressed in black or white, scrutinized the siblings. Despite the serious atmosphere, their good looks worked in their favor. Some of the noble ladies seemed to have already passed judgment, charmed by timid Dany's lovable demeanor and thin but determined Viserys.

Viserys noted the unusual fashion: in Braavos, black and white clothing was worn by the rich and nobles to flaunt their status, which was the exact opposite of other places. The effect was somewhat gloomy, reminding him of grim messengers of death. Despite this, Viserys remained respectful and courteous, trying to win the sympathy of the Lord Mayor.

The mayor of Bitter Well, Franz, was a middle-aged man in his late forties. He had been in a foul mood since early morning when he heard about the murder in town. It was his youngest daughter's fourteenth birthday, and the news had spoiled his day. He was surprised to hear that the so-called "Beggar King" was involved in the incident, but it was only a fleeting surprise. After all, Braavos was a haven for refugees, and the siblings, despite their different identities, were no exception.

Franz's mood improved slightly when he learned that one of the dead was a wanted criminal, seeing it as an achievement of his own. However, he still had some doubts about the case and needed to ask a few questions to clarify.

"You mean to tell me you defeated six of them single-handedly? With this?" Mayor Franz Long held up the broken crossbow, skepticism evident in his voice.

"Yes, I soaked the wooden arrow in the intestines of a black belly fish, so…" Viserys began to explain.

"Intestines?" Franz interrupted, confused. It was clear the mayor wasn't familiar with handling such things himself.

A Maester-like figure beside Franz leaned in and whispered an explanation. Franz nodded, his doubts easing.

Banergar was notorious, and Enghis was a fugitive. From a practical standpoint, Franz favored the siblings. Besides, Viserys's respectful and sincere demeanor made a positive impression.

Franz nodded and commanded, "Bring Banergar and the others here!"

A few guards dragged Banergar and his men forward, having cut the ropes binding them for the Lord Mayor's questioning. Franz looked at them with clear disdain.

"You broke into their home at night and were found with a wanted criminal. What were you up to?" Franz demanded.

Banergar, with a cut on his lip, struggled to speak clearly but knew he had to respond. "I don't know this Enghis. I don't know him," he lied, his eyes unflinching.

Viserys watched in amazement at Banergar's blatant deceit.

"He owes us money, and we came to collect! Instead, he attacked us and killed our men. Lord Mayor, please arrest him!" Banergar continued, attempting to flip the situation.

'What the hell! He's turning the tables on us!' Viserys thought, incredulous.

"Oh? Is that so?" Franz turned to Viserys, his initial sympathy waning. The Braavosi despised bad debtors, and failing to pay debts carried a moral stigma.

Viserys quickly responded, "My Lord, it is true I owe them money, but I have been diligently looking for work. I've secured a good job and will repay my debt in two months at most! And," he pointed to Enghis's body, "this wanted criminal is worth a few gold coins as well. I'll be able to pay back soon!"

"Lord Mayor, I owe the money, but they tried to take my sister, my only family. What could I do against such debt collectors?" Viserys pleaded.

Franz frowned, turning back to Banergar. "You tried to kidnap a child?"

Banergar hesitated, knowing the gravity of the accusation. Braavos had a particular hatred for traffickers, even more so than for debtors.

"He's lying! We never said anything like that!"

"No, we didn't!"

Before Viserys could finish his retort, Dany suddenly collapsed next to him. The ladies who had come to watch the proceedings gasped in horror.

"Dany!" Viserys quickly picked her up, feeling her forehead. She had a fever.

He remembered that children had weaker constitutions and were prone to illness, often due to exhaustion or emotional distress. Dany clearly belonged to the latter.

"Dany! What's wrong with you, Dany?" Viserys held her tightly, his voice full of anxiety. Though they had only been together for half a month, they had already faced life and death together. Despite his harsh treatment of her, the bond between siblings couldn't be denied. They had been together for seven or eight years, and those feelings had transferred to Viserys.

Seeing Dany faint made him panic. In the Middle Ages, fevers could be fatal. "Dany! Dany, don't scare me!" he cried, letting his emotions flow freely. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"You bastards! If anything happens to my sister, I'll kill you all!" Viserys's eyes were bloodshot, his voice like the roar of a furious dragon.

The nobles who had come to watch were now firmly on the side of the siblings. Some were parents themselves and knew how easily children could fall ill from fright. It was now clear whether Banergar and his men had malicious intent. Their long history of bad behavior didn't help their case.

"My Lord, this scum should be locked up!"

"Yes! Lock him up!"

The crowd's outcry swayed Franz's judgment. Banergar realized the situation was turning against him and tried to speak up, but another announcement came from outside.

"Lord Mayor, there was a fire at the Fierce Fish Mansion on Blue Water Street last night, killing three people."

"The Fierce Fish Mansion, isn't that my house?" Banergar asked, panic rising in his voice. "Who, who was burned to death?"

The man seemed to know Banergar and replied with a strange look, "The identities haven't been confirmed yet, but it appears to be your two sons and a prostitute."

"Ah..." Banergar screamed and fainted.

Chapter 12: Even Those Who Don’t Burn Have Fevers

With less than half a year remaining until the "Ten Day Festival" in Braavos, Mayor Franz was under significant pressure to close the case quickly. As a result, he didn't delve deeply into the investigation.

The wanted criminal, Enghis, was killed, and the reward was given to Viserys. Banergar was sentenced to ten years of hard labor for attempting to traffic humans. He would be sent to Braavos to plant windbreaks. As for the incident on Blue Water Street, it was concluded that the humiliated prostitute had set fire to the house, with the lampstand found in her hand serving as evidence.

This incident was also reported to the Sealord of Braavos, who naturally sided with Viserys. It wasn't because Viserys had any particular influence but because the Sealord needed to protect Braavos' image. The death of a fleeing prince within Braavos' borders would tarnish its reputation. It was acceptable for Viserys to be killed by a foreigner, but not by a local. With the Sealord's approval, the Fierce Fish Company ceased to exist.

This incident drew the Sealord's attention, causing Danglar, or whoever was behind him, to temporarily halt any plots against Dany. This allowed the siblings to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The destruction of the Fierce Fish Company quickly spread throughout Bitter Well Town.

"Of course, hanging people like fish! That Beggar King... I mean, that Viserys, is definitely no ordinary person!" exclaimed a fisherman, gesticulating excitedly and holding up a fish to demonstrate.

"So the Fierce Fish Company is finished?" asked a woman with a charming smile.

"Of course! Banergar was thrown into the windbreak forest to plant trees! His two sons were also killed in the fire!"

"That's not bad," she replied.

"Yes," others agreed.

Naturally, this news reached Helbo's ears.

"Is it really possible that a fourteen-year-old prostitute could have done all that at Blue Water Street?" Helbo mused, dipping his hand in water and scribbling on the table as if trying to calculate the distance from Viserys's residence to the Fierce Fish mansion.

No matter how he calculated it, he couldn't believe that Viserys wasn't involved. His intuition told him otherwise. But with the mayor having closed the case, there was no point in pursuing it further. In fact, he and Banergar had been competitors, with Banergar often getting the upper hand. The destruction of the Fierce Fish Company was a win-win for both Helbo and Viserys. Helbo could now take over Banergar's 'market share,' and he planned to approach Viserys to formally invite him to join his "team."

With such a ruthless man on his side, Helbo was confident they could grow bigger and stronger and achieve new glories together.

But Viserys didn't care about the outside world at the moment. His entire focus was on bringing down Dany's fever. He bought some strong alcohol to wipe her body, followed by sweet water to wash her. With no serious fever-reducing medicine available, he relied on physical means to reduce the fever. He soaked all the gold and silver coins he had obtained from Banergar in cold water, using the thermal conductivity of the metal to help cool her down. He placed the chilled coins on Dany's neck, armpits, and thighs, changing them as soon as they warmed up.

This made Viserys wonder if the fever had anything to do with being a Targaryen and their supposed immunity to fire.

In the midst of this, Helbo came by, but he didn't enter the room, sensing it wasn't the right time. However, he soon sent someone with medicinal herbs, water, and food, which Viserys gratefully accepted. Neighbors also came to visit, leaving behind a pile of daily necessities. They saw the opportunity to improve their relationship with the "murderer" in the neighborhood, displaying the shrewdness typical of Braavosi people. Consequently, Viserys's status quickly changed from "refugee" to "that gentleman."

Thanks to Viserys' efforts, Dany woke up the next morning. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable, she reached out and grabbed something, finding herself holding a handful of gold coins. Little Dany thought she was hallucinating and clutched the coins for a long time.

At that moment, Viserys appeared, placing his hand on her forehead. Seeing that the fever had subsided, he gently asked, "Feeling better?"

Dany nodded, and her stomach made a gurgling sound. Viserys smiled, knowing that hunger was a good sign. "What would you like to eat? Braised fish, steamed fish, fish with pickled vegetables, or steamed eggs?"

Dany pursed her cherry-red lips and said, a little embarrassed, "Steamed eggs."

"Okay, wait," Viserys replied.

Dany lay on the bed, watching Viserys's busy figure, and felt like the happiest person in the world, even happier than when she was at the house with the red door.

Soon after, the golden steamed egg was brought to Dany's lips. After she finished eating, she quickly fell asleep again. Seeing her little face regain its color, Viserys knew that the little girl was going to be fine.

Viserys himself had a little something to eat and took the opportunity to open the panel. Everything seemed normal until he saw the Assignable Points and realized something was off. The Assignable Points had actually become 1.15! According to his previous experience, Assignable Points should only increase by 0.1 every day. But today, it had increased significantly more! This was perplexing.

Viserys tried to recall the events of the previous night. There were five people who had died because of him. Could it be that the extra points were provided by their deaths? Was this some sort of murderous system? Wait! Could it be the Dragonbone Dagger?

Viserys took out the Dragonbone Dagger and touched the dark blade. For a moment, he couldn't make sense of it.

"Tsk, why can't it be like other systems, with a message that says 'Detected dots, do you want to absorb them'?"

"Okay, don't worry, you have a system, so what are you complaining about? Just wait and see," he thought to himself.

In his heart, Viserys hoped it was the latter. But if the system really required him to become stronger through killing, then he would find a way to join the Sellswords as soon as possible. He estimated that after this incident, the lives of him and his sister should be able to calm down for a while. He planned to use this time to become stronger as soon as possible.

As for leaving Braavos, Viserys had considered it but decided to stay. Even though there was someone lurking in the shadows with designs on Dany, the law in Braavos still had a considerable deterrent effect. Merchants valued stability, and the people of Braavos respected the law. At the very least, there was no open human trafficking, which was a very favorable situation for the descendants of a fallen dynasty like the two siblings.

Viserys also had some ideas for making money that could only be realized in Braavos. He planned to join a Sellsword company once he had improved his skills a bit more, and then move further away from Westeros to reduce the chances of being assassinated.

...

Soon, the exploits of Viserys spread to those who had a vested interest in his activities. One such individual was the Pentoshi merchant Illyrio Mopatis, who had previously been in contact with the Targaryen siblings. Illyrio, the same man who had once considered marrying Dany to secure an alliance, took a renewed interest in Viserys after hearing about his recent actions.

Viserys' decisive and ruthless handling of the Fierce Fish Company had shown Illyrio a different side of the boy. This display of cunning and strength suggested that Viserys might have more potential than he had initially thought. Illyrio decided it was time to meet the young man again and reassess his value and potential role in the broader scheme of restoring the Targaryen dynasty to the Iron Throne.

Illyrio had been preoccupied with his own business ventures but had always kept an eye out for promising allies. He was also considering potential supporters for Viserys in his quest to reclaim the Iron Throne. The Horselords of the Dothraki had already caught his attention as a possible avenue of support, but this plan needed careful and strategic planning.

Chapter 13: Master Swordsmanship

In the next two months, Helbo took over most of Banergar's business, rapidly expanding his influence. When it came time to collect debts, all he needed to do was bring Viserys along, and the debtors would quickly comply.

Helbo was considerate enough to avoid involving Viserys in actions that would harass widows and orphans, knowing that they usually had no money to pay.

Despite this limitation, Viserys amassed nearly 500 gold dragons in less than two months. With this fortune, he could comfortably raise Dany to adulthood. Additionally, Viserys integrated the black Dragonbone dagger into his fighting techniques. This dagger, sharp and tough like night claws, was perfect for assassination.

During one of their debt-collecting missions, they acquired half of a fossilized dragon egg from a bankrupt merchant, which increased Viserys's Assignable Points by three that day. Although he wanted to buy an entire dragon egg, the exorbitant price, worth thousands of gold dragons, deterred him. However, this encounter pointed him towards a new path for gaining strength quickly: collecting dragon eggs or Dragonbone products. Both required significant amounts of money.

According to the original plot, a significant event would occur in a few years—the Bleeding Star. A red comet would pass by, heralding the return of magic. This event would allow Dany to hatch dragon eggs. Therefore, whether for the sake of hatching a dragon or for Viserys to become stronger quickly, they needed to amass wealth and collect dragon eggs.

Meanwhile, the siblings' lives improved dramatically. They moved back to a wealthy district and hired two maids. Although it was still far from the house with the red door they once lived in, they now had daily access to sweet water and could take proper baths instead of sharing a washbasin. The timid little girl who had first arrived in Braavos began to change. Under her brother's care, Dany became more cheerful. The maids' attention restored some of her former elegance, and with Viserys teaching her swordsmanship, she became more energetic than ever. The scars on her body had long since healed, proving that 'love can grow new flesh and blood.'

One day, Viserys was practicing swordsmanship with Dany on the lawn of their new house in the wealthy district. The spacious yard provided ample room for training. Dany wore a blue training outfit and white whale-skin boots, mirroring Viserys's every move. Viserys noticed that his system was quite scientific: his proficiency increased more quickly when teaching or sparring with others. He chose the former, and his swordsmanship was now just a step away from reaching Expert level.

"Dany, pay attention to me. When you swing your sword, it's not just the power of your arms but the power of your torso. Your shoulders are the bridge!"

Suddenly, the bright blade of Viserys's sword traced a crescent moon, leaving a deep mark on the target. For a moment, he felt as if he could hear the sound of the sword reverberating in his ears. It was the memory of the original Viserys in the Red Keep, where the sound of the Kingsguard practicing their swordsmanship played like a distant echo.

Among them were his older brother Rhaegar, Arthur Dayne, the Knight of the Dawn, the "Fearless" Barristan, and the "Kingslayer" Jaime Lannister.

These fragments of memory seemed to come to life, replaying in his mind and integrating into his muscles. At this moment, the long sword in his hand truly became an extension of his body.

Swordsmanship: Master (1/10000)

Viserys didn't need to open the panel to confirm that his sword skills had reached a new level. Though only fifteen years old, he had achieved master-level swordsmanship. If someone broke into his house again, he could easily handle them, even someone like Enghis.

Dany saw a scene reminiscent of when Viserys first arrived. He seemed to enter a state of ecstasy, wielding his sword with such grace and precision that it was almost like watching a dance—but better. The rhythm and charm in his movements were mesmerizing.

After about ten minutes, Viserys stopped, looking at Dany with a bit of embarrassment. "Oh, let's continue," he said.

Just as the siblings resumed their practice, Helbo arrived with a gift. Behind him was a young man with a scholarly air, brown curly hair, and a kind smile—said to be an accountant. Helbo would have preferred to bring bald Regis, but knowing Dany was a little scared of him, he chose the accountant instead.

"Lord Viserys," Helbo greeted respectfully. At Viserys's request, he no longer called him "Prince." Considering Viserys's current status as a king without a kingdom, he preferred to avoid such grand titles.

"Helbo," Viserys acknowledged with a nod, while Dany curtsied slightly and responded politely, "Good day, Helbo."

"My lady Dany, you are becoming more and more beautiful," Helbo complimented, genuinely impressed.

With proper nutrition and love, Dany was blossoming into a lovely and cheerful young lady. Every time Helbo visited, he couldn't help but admire her, but under Viserys's watchful eye, he restrained himself.

From the gift box, Helbo produced a dagger with a silver handle adorned with precious stones. This was his gift for Dany. Her violet eyes lit up with delight.

"Thank you," she said, her appreciation clear.

"Haha, I'm glad you like it," Helbo responded warmly, handing the dagger to Dany with care.

"More work?" Viserys asked, sticking his sword into the ground, ready to discuss business.

Helbo placed the other gifts on a side table and nodded. "Yes, this is a big deal, but it's not debt collection."

Viserys turned to the maid. "Jill, please take Dany to play."

"Yes, m'lord," Jill responded, leading Dany away. Dany, understanding that her brother was about to discuss business, obediently followed.

"Go ahead, what is it?" Viserys asked once they were alone, sitting down at the table.

"In the town, there is a workshop that specializes in making whale oil candles. They are recruiting guards," Helbo explained.

Viserys, about to take a drink, paused, puzzled. "You found me a guard job?"

"No, no, no," Helbo hastily clarified. "If it were just a guard, I wouldn't have come to you. There's been trouble at the factory recently. Someone has been causing disturbances at the door. The owner needs guards to ensure normal production for a month and will pay a generous reward afterward."

Viserys considered this, recalling historical instances of capitalists hiring private armies. In this medieval-like setting, it wasn't surprising that a factory owner might need thugs for protection. However, he wanted to ensure the workshop's financial stability to avoid working for nothing.

"You can rest assured," Helbo assured him, "this workshop is backed by the shares of Lady Moonshadow Falia. She will not default on our payment."

"Moonshadow Falia?" Viserys echoed, intrigued.

Chapter 14: The Courtesan of Braavos

When Viserys first arrived in Braavos, he was focused on restoring his kingdom and searching for potential allies. Thus, when Helbo mentioned Falia, Viserys immediately knew who she was. Falia, known as Moonshadow, was a prominent figure among the elite courtesans of Braavos.

Braavos, with its bustling business community, hosted numerous gatherings, creating a niche for social butterflies who bridged the gap between wealthy businessmen and influential individuals. These high-end courtesans facilitated deals and alliances with their charm and intelligence, sometimes even establishing their own businesses.

Reputation was paramount among these courtesans, and they employed "protective swordsmen" to maintain their honor. These bodyguards came from two main sources: suitors who were deeply in love with the courtesans, or hired swordsmen. The latter were necessary when suitors lacked the skills to defend their honor. These protective swordsmen were similar to the loyal knights who followed noblewomen in Westeros, such as Jorah Mormont or the leader of the Second Sons.

High-end courtesans, like Falia, were distinct from their lower-end counterparts who traded their bodies for financial gain and could be compared to medieval prostitutes. Falia, however, was a respected figure with numerous wealthy merchants vying for her favor. She was also a favorite in the Ten-Day Festival's beauty contest, reflecting her high status and wealth.

After Helbo's introduction, Viserys immediately accepted the job. He needed to save money to buy dragon eggs and strengthen himself as quickly as possible. Recently, he had a dream of a man in black crossing the sea, which he interpreted as a sign that Robert Baratheon had sent another assassin.

"In that case, I'll take you there tomorrow?" Helbo offered.

"Of course, no problem." Viserys agreed readily, surprising Helbo.

Helbo was uncertain about Viserys taking on the bodyguard job. He knew it wasn't glamorous work, much like debt collection, but he remembered how Viserys had been fixated on restoring his kingdom. The young man's reputation for spending money to entertain himself was well-known, making him a laughing stock in Braavos and the Free Cities.

Helbo doubted Viserys would be comfortable working as a guard, given the significant difference in prestige.

To his surprise, Viserys agreed readily. "Is he trying to save up to buy an army?" Helbo muttered to himself. It didn't seem to be a very good idea to him.

Even after climbing into the carriage, he couldn't help but look back, puzzled by Viserys's eagerness.

Helbo had recently expanded his operations, partly due to acquiring Banergar's shares. His earnings had increased, and he now managed nearly fifty men, none of whom matched Viserys's prowess. He had moved into a better house with water piped in directly from the Long Canal, a status symbol in Braavos.

Viserys had considered the same for his home but abandoned the idea upon learning the pipes were made of lead. He tried to persuade Helbo of the health risks, but Helbo saw it as a mark of status and dismissed his concerns.

As the saying goes, it's hard to convince a stubborn mind. Viserys had to respect Helbo's decision, even if he disagreed with it.

The next day, Helbo arrived in his carriage to pick up Viserys. Anticipating potential conflicts, Viserys was prepared. He wore a suit of leather armor, with a dagger and crossbow at his waist and a pair of two-handed swords on his back. His Constitution was nearing the level of a healthy adult, and he wondered if reaching the next level would bring a similar surge of strength as his skill advancements.

If Viserys had once resembled a tall but bare sapling upon his first arrival in Braavos, he now stood like a spear. His body was straight, and after cutting his hair short, his facial features appeared less sinister and more handsome.

"Brother, when will you be back?" Dany asked, already reluctant to let him go before he had even left the house.

"Maybe it will be a few days. You should study more, practice more, eat fewer snacks, sleep more, and don't run around," Viserys replied.

"Oh." Dany nodded, having begged him to take her along the previous night, but he had refused.

To ensure her safety, Viserys instructed Helbo to leave someone behind to keep watch and maintain constant contact. He could return home immediately if anything happened.

Soon, the two of them arrived at a small harbor.

"Take the boat! It's only three iron coins to Greenwater Town!"

"One, two, one, two..."

"Fresh onions! Just arrived from the mainland!"

"Hey, m'lord..."

As a city of a thousand islands, Braavos had a dense network of waterways. Shipping was an integral part of life. Boatmen touted their services, bare-chested porters hauled goods, and vendors hawked their wares. Even prostitutes flirted with potential customers.

Viserys and Helbo walked through the bustling crowd and boarded a boat at a small harbor. Bald Regis was giving a speech to a group of newcomers when he saw Viserys and Helbo arrive. He quickly put on a somewhat cheap smile.

"M'lord Viserys, M'lord Helbo."

When Viserys first joined Helbo, Regis had been a bit upset. He thought Viserys had ambushed him and didn't believe that he had killed the fierce fish Banergar. Viserys had volunteered to accept his challenge at any time. Initially, Regis held his own due to his weight, but as time passed, Viserys easily knocked him down with just one hand. Afterwards, Viserys taught him a few tricks, earning Regis's respect and admiration even more than his boss, Helbo.

Viserys glanced down and saw about thirty people in total, with four boats between them. He and Helbo sat in one boat while the others filled the remaining boats. Although it was a bit crowded, no one complained. Stretching out their legs was a privilege reserved for the big boss.

Among the group, Viserys stood out. Not only was he tall and well-proportioned, but his silver hair was also eye-catching. Along the way, young wives and girls couldn't help but take a second look. Soon, someone recognized his identity.

"Don't stare, silly girl. He's the fierce fish eater!"

"The fierce fish eater?"

Those who recognized Viserys whispered about his deeds to those around them. Some timid girls covered their mouths, looking at him in disbelief. A young man who appeared gentle and scholarly could actually be so ruthless.

However, once they left the town of Bitterwell, Viserys's reputation was not as well known. By noon, Helbo and his party arrived in the town of White Sails, where the candle workshop was located.

On the shore, a middle-aged man with a bald head and gray hair waited with a few people. Helbo saw them first and stood up to greet them. The middle-aged man slightly bowed with his hands on his chest, then personally came forward to greet him.

Chapter 15: Professional Meeting

The owner of the workshop was a bald, middle-aged man named Morel. His face bore two deep wrinkles between his eyebrows, as if he carried a lot of pent-up frustration. Standing beside Morel was his son, Rabbi, who, influenced by his father's demeanor, seemed to lack vigor. Even managing a smile was a struggle for him.

"Helbo, why did you bring such a young man here? He looks younger than me," Rabbi muttered, casting a doubtful glance at Viserys. His skepticism was understandable; Viserys looked far too young, especially with his short hair making him appear more like a half-grown boy than a seasoned leader. Although he had an appealing look, he resembled more a squire than a knight ready for command.

Morel shared his son's reservations. In his view, the shiny-headed Regis seemed more reassuring than Viserys. Seeing Viserys in the center of the group from a distance made Morel and his son uneasy. However, changing their minds now would affect their reputation as businessmen and upset Helbo, so they had to proceed as planned.

"Okay, don't say that again," Morel pressed, warning his son. He straightened his clothes, cleared his throat, and walked towards Viserys and the others. "M'lord Helbo, you've finally arrived! I can finally relax now!" Morel greeted Helbo, extending his hand.

Helbo, however, did not immediately take Morel's hand. Instead, he looked around at the workshop. "Your workshop is really huge. It would take two hours to walk around it." he remarked, pulling himself together and projecting the image Morel wanted to see. A traditional merchant like Morel needed to appear honest and trustworthy, while a security provider like Helbo needed to project strength and reassurance.

Morel calmly withdrew his hand, then addressed the people behind him. "Oh, no, no. But with these fine men you brought, I have nothing to worry about."

Helbo smiled and introduced the group. "This is Lord Viserys, and this is Regis. They will be in charge of the workshop's security."

Regis puffed out his chest, looking very different from before. The master of the Braavos workshop seemed to favor him. However, Morel did not show his preference openly. Instead, he praised both Viserys and Regis. Rabbi, standing behind his father, also remained quiet, feeling that the name Viserys was familiar but not knowing where he had heard it before.

"I have prepared some fine wine for you. Please follow me," Morel invited.

"Yes, let's go!" Helbo responded enthusiastically, walking at the front with Morel by his side.

Viserys observed the workshop from a distance, noting its considerable size—it was not an exaggeration to call it a factory. Along the road, carts pulled large blocks of snow-white whale oil. The ground felt greasy under his feet, as if he were in the kitchen of a busy restaurant, each step making his feet feel sticky. White smoke billowed from various parts of the workshop, where wicks were drying, and both male and female workers, heads down, bustled about. They all wore oil-slicked leather aprons, obscuring their features. When Morel passed by, the workers bowed, and Morel nodded in acknowledgment.

For fire prevention, the factory had a lot of water. Viserys noticed a watchtower in the workshop, though its location was a bit off. He thought if it were moved a little further east and had two archers stationed there, the entire workshop could be controlled.

After walking for about 20 minutes, they arrived at the back of the factory, where the environment was noticeably better. Most of Helbo's men were taken to a more spacious area by Rabbi, while only Helbo, Viserys, and Regis joined Morel for dinner.

"This is wine from the Arbor. Try it," Morel said, pouring a pale golden liquid for the three of them.

'The Arbor in Westeros, vassal of Highgarden. Their fleet is powerful, and the Grandmother of the Little Rose is from House Redwyne in the Arbor,' Viserys noticed, sipping the wine as information about Arbor flashed through his mind.

After three rounds of wine, Morel began to reveal his worries. In half a year, the Ten Day Festival would be held in Braavos, an event occurring every three years. During the festival, a large number of candles would be consumed, and the festival's costs in terms of supplies were immense. Behind each supply was an unimaginable profit. The cost of candles alone exceeded 30,000 gold dragons, not to mention alcohol, clothing, and other goods.

"I have to produce enough candles to secure a sufficient market share. Otherwise, after the celebration is over, this workshop might not survive," Morel said bitterly, pouring himself another glass of wine.

Helbo, standing next to Morel, slammed his glass down on the table and shouted, "Don't worry, we'll make sure your production runs smoothly!"

"Thank you! I truly appreciate it!" Morel responded excitedly, quickly toasting the group.

At this point, Viserys spoke up, "Do you have a floor plan of the workshop that I could take a look at?"

"No problem! When do you need it?" Morel asked.

"As soon as possible," Viserys replied.

Though Morel was in his fifties and Viserys was barely fifteen, he agreed to Viserys' request out of respect for Helbo. However, as Rabbi handed the floor plan to his father, he shared some disturbing news.

"He is Viserys Targaryen. The Beggar King from Westeros!" Rabbi exclaimed, looking at Viserys with resentment.

Morel's face soured at the revelation. While the common people of Braavos might not recognize the name, the upper and middle classes of Braavos—and indeed the entire Free Cities—knew of him. He was infamous for selling his mother's crown and hosting a banquet for a group of Sellsword leaders, only to be tricked.

Can such a person really protect my workshop? Morel wondered, his hopes, which had just been raised, collapsing by half.

Chapter 16: The Second Brother’s Surprise

However, given the circumstances, Morel could only comfort himself. He noted that both Helbo and Regis seemed to respect the Beggar King greatly. Perhaps this descendant of the Targaryens truly possessed some unique talents. With a sigh, Morel sent his son away and tried to maintain a positive outlook.

...

Viserys was unaware of Morel and his son's reservations. He only knew that this job suited him perfectly. After receiving the map, he went straight to the workshop to study it. The workshop was situated on a hill with a lower elevation to the east and a waterway to the south. The workshop's sewage had turned the waterway murky, but in these medieval times, providing jobs and feeding people took precedence over environmental concerns.

Viserys quickly devised a plan for sentry posts and patrol routes. He divided the more than thirty people into two groups, with him and Regis each leading a team in two shifts. Initially, Morel shared his son's skepticism about Viserys's abilities. But upon seeing Viserys's meticulous arrangements, he felt inexplicably reassured. Despite his lack of understanding in these matters, the professionalism that Viserys exuded instilled a sense of trust.

Viserys's constant presence at the various posts and his direct intervention when someone slacked off further solidified this trust. While some were unhappy with his strictness, they dared not express it openly. Most had witnessed him easily overpower Regis with one hand.

Rabbi, however, still harbored resentment. Assigned to the day shift by Viserys, he felt insecure during the day and couldn't sleep well at night.

A week had passed since Viserys' arrival at the workshop, and things had remained quiet. Viserys also noticed a change in his own physiology. Since his Constitution upgrade, his need for sleep had decreased. Now, less than seven hours of sleep was enough to keep him energized for the day.

...

"Burn them all!"

"Burn! Burn!"

"Ahhhhh~"

The orange flames swept through the workshop like a storm, engulfing everything in their path. The roaring inferno drowned out the cries of people and consumed the whale oil along with countless lives.

Viserys, who had just fallen asleep, suddenly opened his eyes. The thousand-degree flames had surrounded his quarters. In his dream, he had seen several figures emerging stealthily from the water, attacking the workshop and causing a massive fire. His Dragon dreams had been triggered.

Someone had breached his defenses, but his plan was solid. The patrols were designed to respond swiftly, with the ability to gather reinforcements within minutes. Each team member had a specific role, including one dedicated to communications. Unless faced with an army, they should have been able to hold their ground.

This breach could only mean two things: either someone had slacked off, abandoning their post, or Helbo's rapid expansion had allowed for infiltration by enemy spies.

These street thugs were no match for professional soldiers. Viserys had wisely moved the rest area to the south near the ditch, anticipating such a scenario.

With no time to call for reinforcements, Viserys decided to take action himself. He quickly donned his leather armor, grabbed his long sword and dagger, and jumped out of the window.

His immediate goal was to assess the situation and coordinate the patrol members to get help.

...

At this time, a member of the patrol stood by the waterway, looking left and right. Seeing that the other two team members were not far away, he relaxed a little. Suddenly, something felt wrong. He couldn't immediately pinpoint the issue.

"Wait! The toad isn't croaking!"

The patrol member immediately became vigilant, recalling Viserys' teachings. Viserys had told them to pay attention to their surroundings while patrolling. Frogs, toads, and crickets, for example, would stop croaking if someone approached. This could help determine the direction and location of an enemy during patrols.

The patrol member shouted in a threatening manner toward the waterway:

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

This bluffing tactic was also taught by Viserys.

The leader of the intruders was annoyed. Viserys's patrols were too well-organized. They had been watching for days but had not found a suitable place to breach. Even the filthy waterway was patrolled. However, since there were fewer patrols here, they decided to attack from this direction. They thought the patrol would be easy to deal with, but the patrolman's vigilance was beyond their expectations.

"Who goes there?"

The patrolman was flustered when he saw a dozen men appear suddenly, so much so that his voice wavered. In the moonlight, he saw the glint of knives and daggers. He quickly sounded the alarm, but it was already too late. This group had come to set the workshop on fire. Unless he could hold them back, they would cause great damage once inside.

The other two team members quickly came running after hearing the whistle. But after a few steps, they saw at least thirty people in the shadows. They didn't have the courage to fight off ten men each, and they immediately thought of running away.

The intruders seemed to have the same idea. The leader shouted to his men:

"Charge in and burn this place to the ground!"

"Ooh!"

The crowd let out strange cries, like a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey, with some even laughing cruelly. Just when several patrol members were beginning to despair, they suddenly heard a shout from behind:

"Go back and get help!"

"Lord Viserys!" They were relieved to see Viserys running over but anxious upon realizing he was alone.

"Hurry!"

Without needing further urging, the patrol members sprinted away as fast as they could. Under the crescent moon in the night sky, Viserys didn't have time to question why all three had fled. With the moonlight still relatively bright, he estimated there were about thirty attackers. Although their faces were hidden in the shadows, their figures were clearly visible.

Viserys's silver hair made him conspicuous, even more so now. One of the attackers suddenly said:

"Isn't this The Beggar King? What are you doing here? Aren't you Targaryens supposed to be proud dragons? Why are you acting like a watchdog?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the others burst into laughter.

Viserys raised the corner of his mouth and replied, "Your mother didn't want to let me go, so I had to stay in Braavos for a while."

Verbal attacks centered on family were always Viserys' favorite. Though he couldn't see the man's face clearly, he sensed the man was taken aback.

"You fool! I'll see if your bones are as hard as your mouth! Attack!"

Several subordinates armed with short knives surrounded Viserys. The sharp blades glistened in the moonlight, looking even more menacing. They gradually approached, their eyes flashing with cruel intent.

This is a descendant of the Targaryens, a genuine noble. They would boast for years about killing such a person.

Viserys calmly drew his sword, silently assessing the strength of the men and looking for a position that would be advantageous to him.

Chapter 17: Dragon Dreams Observation

Viserys couldn't recall the name of the person who he had just provoked, but it didn't matter. With lethal precision, he dispatched his enemies.

His Master-level Combat skills allowed him to move with such speed and efficiency that his opponents saw nothing but the cold gleam of his blade. In less than a minute, six or seven men lay dead on the ground.

One particularly unfortunate soul had his head severed, the gruesome trophy rolling to the feet of the instigator. This man, a mercenary named Radmon, had once been a guest at Viserys' banquet.

Radmon was a minor leader, hence why Viserys didn't remember him. He had coarse, flaxen hair slicked back in a style reminiscent of a "wolf's tail," and a missing right eyebrow from an old arrow wound. He had lost his right forearm in battle six months prior, making him unfit for frontline combat, but his experience still made him valuable as a hired hand.

Seeing the beggar king who had sold his mother's crown standing against him and his men, Radmon had assumed Viserys was seeking death. He thought a single knife would be enough to turn Viserys into mincemeat, especially since he remembered him as a lightweight from their previous encounter. Radmon believed he could easily defeat Viserys in just a few moves, even with his handicap. Reality, however, proved him disastrously wrong.

'How is this possible? How can he fight so well?' Radmon's mouth went dry, his saliva stopped flowing—a reaction typical of a rookie soldier facing battle for the first time. He couldn't comprehend how Viserys could be so competent.

Viserys moved with astonishing speed, his figure becoming a blur in the darkness. The attackers, armed with short weapons and burdened with firewood, were taken by surprise. They had to cross the waterway, which further hindered their movements.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Radmon knew that failure to defeat Viserys meant the failure of their entire operation. He shouted frantically, "Give it everything! Otherwise, none of us will get Lord Andersen's reward!"

Viserys didn't know who this Andersen was, but he silently noted the name. As a cloud passed over the moon, plunging the area into darkness, Viserys seized the opportunity. He dropped his sword, took out his dagger, and began slitting throats with deadly efficiency.

Screams filled the air as Viserys moved like a reaper in the night, his dagger harvesting lives. The attackers, now gripped by terror, swung their knives wildly, even injuring one another in their panic.

Suddenly, two attackers couldn't bear the tense atmosphere any longer. They threw down their weapons, screamed, and jumped into the murky waterway in a desperate bid to escape.

"Don't run! Gather together! Gather together!" Radmon shouted at the top of his lungs, managing to gather a dozen of his men. But the group's morale quickly melted away like ice under a hot sun as they saw a light approaching from a distance.

It was Regis and his team, armed with wooden spears and torches, running at full speed and yelling. The few patrol members Viserys had sent back to deliver the message now had swollen faces—courtesy of Regis. When he heard they had left Viserys alone, he was so shocked that he broke out in a cold sweat, his hair standing on end. He not only rallied everyone around him but also dragged those who were resting out of bed. Even then, they could only muster fewer than twenty people.

Though Regis knew Viserys was very strong, he was still scared that he could handle more than ten attackers at once. Along the way, Regis kept praying, and when they reached the waterway, they could only judge the general direction of the fight by the sounds of splashing water. As the group got closer, they saw the aftermath—wounded and dead bodies littered the ground, and only a silver-haired youth with a fierce aura stood there.

"Lord Viserys?" Regis asked tentatively.

Viserys, still radiating murderous intent, turned his head, causing Regis to shudder. "It's me," Viserys said, trying to calm himself.

"Are you okay?" Regis asked.

"I'm fine. Look around and see if there are any survivors. Deal with them later." Viserys then turned and left.

Regis was shocked by the scene before him—the bodies lying on the ground and the ones still groaning in pain. Although he didn't know how many had escaped, he estimated there had been at least thirty attackers. That meant Viserys had single-handedly stopped an attack by thirty men. This realization made Regis gasp in astonishment.

"This... all of this was done by Lord Viserys?" Regis muttered in disbelief.

"Of course, there's only one Lord here," one of the other team members said, sharing in the awe.

"Oh..." Many of the team members had never seen such a bloody scene before, and the strong smell of blood caused some to vomit uncontrollably. Regis, snapping out of his shock, yelled at the others, "There are dead bodies here. Hurry up and clean this up!"

The team members sprang into action, gathering the bodies scattered on the ground. Regis couldn't help but realize that Viserys was far stronger than he had ever imagined. When Viserys had been teaching him sword skills and training methods, Regis had been skeptical. Crawling on the ground and adopting strange stances seemed pointless to him. But now, seeing the aftermath of Viserys' fight, he believed. If he could someday have even half of Viserys' strength, he would consider himself very fortunate.

...

Meanwhile, back in his room, Viserys began to reflect on the recent battle. The victory had been a combination of favorable conditions and good tactics. The attackers were unprepared, his long weapon gave him an advantage, and the environment worked in his favor. However, he knew that if the circumstances had been different, he could have easily been injured—or worse.

In this era, injuries were particularly dangerous, especially during the long summer when infections were common. Caution was everything.

Viserys opened his panel to check his progress and noticed that his Dragon Dreams skill had improved significantly.

Dragon Dreams: - Ordinary (296/300) +

In the past three months, his proficiency had increased by 20 points. It seemed the skill had just refreshed for the new day. He added the remaining five points to Dragon Dreams, and a strange sensation rippled through his mind.

Dragon Dreams: - Proficient (1/1000) +

For a moment, Viserys felt a clearer perception of future events. Previously, he had only passively perceived impending danger through his dreams. Now, it seemed he could actively predict movements and threats through his dreams.

With some time left before dawn, Viserys decided to test his newfound ability. He recalled the recent dream of a black-clad assassin crossing the sea and focused his mind, hoping to see where the man was now.

Chapter 18: Brother Is Too Cold

Viserys stretched out on the bed, gradually relaxing. The adrenaline from the recent battle still coursed through his veins, making his heart pound and the vivid images of the fight replay in his mind. Sleep didn't come easily. He tossed and turned for nearly half an hour before finally drifting off.

In his dream, Viserys found himself on a dark, undulating sea. The sky was lightening, signaling dawn, but the sea remained dark and turbulent, as if recovering from a storm. Pieces of wood and cargo floated around, and a thin, soaking-wet man clung to a plank.

"Is this a storm?" Viserys wondered, feeling a sense of unexpected fortune. The assassin sent to kill him had encountered a storm en route, a stroke of luck indeed. The man seemed to have been drifting at sea for days, lying listlessly on the broken plank, like a leaf at the mercy of the waves, ready to capsize at any moment.

Suddenly, the assassin sprang to life, his body electrified with energy. Like a predator spotting prey, he lunged forward and caught a one-meter-long lobster. With practiced ease, he took out a dagger and cleaned the lobster, preparing a fresh meal of sashimi within minutes.

"This is unbelievable!" Viserys thought, incredulous. In his previous life, he had seen movies depicting people adrift at sea, struggling to find food and barely surviving. Yet here was the assassin, thriving in such dire circumstances.

But something peculiar caught Viserys's attention. After killing the lobster, the assassin shuddered, as if he had felt the knife's plunge himself. A thought crossed Viserys's mind—could this man be a skinchanger, someone with the ability to control animals?

Just as Viserys was about to delve deeper into his observation, the scene blurred. He felt dizzy, like he hadn't slept for days. The exhaustion forced him to withdraw from the Dragon Dreams state.

"It seems my magic power is insufficient," Viserys realized. Exiting Dragon Dreams, he noted his magic power was less than 1. He hadn't studied magic for two months, leaving his magic power below 10. Passively triggering Dragon Dreams consumed some magic, but like physical strength, it would automatically recover over time.

However, there were no shortcuts to increasing his magic except by allocating points. Braavos, with its many shrines, temples, and the House of Black and White, might hold answers. Perhaps he could find a way to enhance his magic there...

Suddenly, Viserys heard a thumping sound, like someone pounding on a wooden board. Someone was knocking.

He opened his eyes and saw the door had been cracked open, and a bald head pushed in. It was Regis.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Viserys asked, not bothering to get out of bed.

"You were...sleeping?" Regis asked, somewhat surprised.

"I was just falling asleep," Viserys replied.

Seeing that Viserys had actually been asleep, Regis was taken aback. He thought to himself, Viserys is incredible. He just killed a dozen people and now he's sleeping!

"Oh, I thought you were injured, so I came in to check on you. Go back to sleep," Regis said.

Viserys knew Regis meant no harm, so he remained relaxed. He waved his hand dismissively and turned over to go back to sleep. Regis gently closed the door and stepped back out, the admiration in his eyes deepening.

Viserys found the method of tracking through dreams too exhausting. He wanted to continue the dream, but with his magic depleted, he couldn't. He fell asleep almost immediately.

He slept until noon the next day, undisturbed. No one dared to interrupt his peaceful slumber. Regis took it upon himself to watch over him.

That night, the master of the workshop, Morel, was not present due to other matters. However, he learned of the events shortly before dawn and hurried back. He was relieved to see the workshop undamaged.

"M'lord Regis, what happened? Was anyone hurt?" Morel asked, concerned.

Regis glanced at Morel, impressed that his first concern was for the people rather than the workshop. "The attackers were driven back by us, or rather by Lord Viserys."

"Lord Viserys?" Morel repeated, confused, looking at his equally perplexed son.

He thought, didn't you say dozens of people came last night? Could Viserys have stopped them all by himself? That half-grown boy?

Whether others believed it or not, Morel and his son were skeptical. Either they heard wrong and there weren't dozens of attackers, or something extraordinary had happened. After all, wasn't Regis supposed to be in charge at night? Why did Viserys repel the attackers?

Ignoring the father and son's doubts, Regis led them to the room where the attackers were held. Inside, there were seven or eight bodies and four or five injured people lying on the floor.

"These are... all..."

The sight of such a tragic scene made Morel turn pale. Regis wondered why the usually composed father and son were now stuttering.

"These are the attackers. They were all killed by Lord Viserys," Regis said with a hint of pride, as if he had killed them himself. "I'll leave the rest to you. Lord Viserys is still resting, so don't disturb him."

Regis then turned to leave. At this moment, Rabbi suddenly remembered something and hurriedly asked, "Is Lord Viserys injured?"

"No, he's fine," Regis replied.

The father and son were stunned. They couldn't fathom what kind of person they had hired. He had killed a dozen people in one night and emerged unscathed. He was a monster!

Rabbi suddenly remembered what a friend of his, a water dancer, had told him. A master swordsman is very sensitive to the reactions of others. They even notice the slightest facial expression. Rabbi realized that his attitude towards Viserys had been disrespectful. He suddenly felt a pang of fear.

"Should we prepare some gifts for him?" he suggested to his father.

Morel nodded, indicating that he would take care of it.

Helbo learned the news a little later. When he discovered that Viserys had killed more than a dozen people on his own, his reaction was even more exaggerated than Morel and his son's. He immediately prepared a banquet to honor Viserys and gathered some gifts.

He knew the news would spread quickly. When it did, his own "business" would benefit, and his influence might even expand further. He absolutely could not let such a valuable asset slip away.

As for those who were killed, they were naturally not a problem. It was a serious crime to raid someone's workshop at night. And he wouldn't let Viserys take the blame for all these deaths. He could just pin it on someone else. He had done this many times before.

Dany only learned about the incident after hearing Morel's account. While others were shocked and admired Viserys for killing dozens of people, Dany was terrified. Later, when no one was around, she worriedly checked Viserys' body, relieved only when she was certain he wasn't injured.

Chapter 19: Plot After Plot

The burden of using Dragon Dreams to perform active divination was not small, and it took until the afternoon for Viserys to recover his energy. As he opened the door, he found Rabbi waiting outside. The enthusiasm in his demeanor was a stark contrast to their first meeting.

"Lord Viserys."

"Goodman Rabbi, what brings you here? Come on in!" Viserys ushered him into the house, already guessing the reason for his visit but asking nonetheless.

"I have come to thank you."

"Thank me?" Viserys remembered Rabbi's initial lukewarm attitude but chose to play along. "You are too kind. It was my duty."

"No, no, no. Your martial arts skills are extraordinary, yet you remain so humble. You are my role model. The Titan of Braavos may be a guardian, but last night, you were the Titan of our workshop."

Viserys found Rabbi's flattery amusing but kept a straight face. Rabbi continued, explaining that he and his father had prepared a simple feast and hoped Viserys would join them in the evening.

"Here is a small token of our appreciation. Please do come!" Rabbi handed him a box with a sapphire-inlaid clasp, hinting at valuable contents inside.

"No problem, but what about the guards at the workshop?" Viserys inquired.

Rabbi quickly responded, "You might not be aware during your rest, but the mayor is taking this incident very seriously. He has sent a team of guards here, ensuring no one will dare to target the workshop for the next few days."

Viserys nodded, reassured by the involvement of the authorities. He doubted Rabbi and his father would suffer financially due to the presence of the guards.

"In that case, allow me to freshen up a bit."

"It's already been prepared for you," Rabbi said.

To Viserys's surprise, several servants carrying hot water entered the room. Two burly men carried large kegs, followed by two maids with attractive features.

Viserys composed himself and took a bath with the maids' assistance. Thanks to the system's enhancements, his body was well-proportioned with smooth muscle lines, almost sixty but looking far younger. The maids seemed to enjoy their task, their gazes appreciative as they carefully wiped every inch of his skin with towels.

Perhaps due to the original Viserys's frequent indulgence in such services, he felt no discomfort being naked, even under the maids' attentive care.

He changed into clean clothes with the help of the maids, and outside, a carriage and horses had been waiting for quite some time. The sky had darkened, and the sun's rays were fading on the distant mountains. He wondered if Banergar had finished his work yet.

Accompanied by Rabbi, Viserys walked through the flat streets of the wealthy district and arrived at a grand courtyard. From a distance, he could already sense the excitement emanating from within. Bright white light poured out of the mansion, giving the initial impression of a fire. But as they entered, the true source of the light became clear, and it was breathtaking.

Hundreds of candles lit up the courtyard, making it as bright as day. For a moment, Viserys was so captivated by the sight that he felt as if he had returned to his previous world. Three long tables were set up, laden with an abundance of food. Not far away, a group of musicians played lively tunes, and a dozen servants bustled about, attending to the guests.

Rabbi and his father had invited all the team members, who were making a ruckus and stuffing their faces with food. Regis stood out, larger than the others, wearing a lilac jacket. He danced around, animatedly recounting the battle, making it seem as if he had single-handedly repelled the attackers.

Helbo, who had been watching the door, was the first to notice Viserys's arrival. He stood up and tapped his glass with a fork, producing a clear sound that silenced the noisy feast.

"Hey, look! It's our hero, Lord Viserys! Let's drink a toast to him!"

The crowd quieted down, and those who had been flirting with the maids quickly stopped. They all turned towards Viserys, raising their glasses in his honor. Helbo handed Viserys a glass of wine. Just as he was about to take a sip, several men came up behind him and lifted him into the air.

"Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

"Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

The name echoed throughout the courtyard as they carried him around, celebrating his bravery. They finally set him down after the third lap, to the sound of hearty cheers.

"To the bravery of Lord Viserys!" Morel proposed another toast.

"Bravery!" the team members echoed, raising their glasses once more.

Viserys knew he had to say something meaningful on such an occasion. Though not particularly skilled in public speaking, he tried to recall the demeanor of his old instructor. He raised his glass and began:

"Everyone, your hard work over the past few days has been commendable. It is because of our unity and determination that the workshop has remained safe and sound. Together, we are like a blazing fire, strong and unstoppable. Apart, we are like stars, shining brightly in our own right. Let us continue to grow, become stronger, and create new glories!"

The speech was a bit awkward even for Viserys himself, but Morel and Helbo were impressed. His noble background gave his words a certain authority, and the atmosphere grew even more spirited. As the festivities continued, Viserys and the other leaders gathered in a more private setting to discuss matters further.

"Do you know who Andersen is? I heard that name from those people," Viserys asked, now surrounded only by Helbo and the Morel.

"Andersen?" Rabbi looked puzzled, but Morel and Helbo exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Andersen? Could it be him?" Morel frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening.

"Is there a problem with him?" Helbo asked, setting his wine glass down.

"No," Morel shook his head. "He's in the land business. We don't interact much."

Viserys observed them carefully, feeling a bit like an outsider. The previous night's battle had been intense, and the heavy losses meant it would be difficult for Morel's enemies to organize another similar attack. With most of his mission accomplished, Viserys felt that the fate of the workshop was no longer his concern as long as he received his payment.

The next day, Helbo approached Viserys with an apologetic expression, making him realize that the situation he was involved in was more complicated than it had initially seemed.

Chapter 20: Illyrio

In the courtyard, Dany practiced swordsmanship under the guidance of a skilled water dancer swordsman. Meanwhile, Viserys conversed with Helbo about the workshop's current situation.

"Lady Falia and another lady named Gortave are both popular candidates for the beauty pageant at the Ten-Day Celebration," Helbo began, sharing the latest gossip. "Fernan seems to be Gortave's supporter. Gortave once said she would build a new theater in Greenwater Town."

"And the most suitable place in Greenwater Town…" Helbo continued, piecing together information he had gathered over the past few days.

"Morel's workshop is in a bad situation. Many skilled workers have left, and it seems they lost a lot of money when they bought whale oil," he concluded.

Helbo then turned to Viserys, his expression filled with regret. "Viserys, it's all my fault. We've expanded too quickly."

He kept apologizing, assuring Viserys that he would find a way to pay his share of the compensation. Viserys, however, sat in his chair, deep in thought.

"I heard there will be a tournament at the Ten-Day Celebration. I want to sign up," Viserys suddenly announced.

Helbo's heart sank. Was Viserys hit in the head? The prize for the tournament was generous, but the competition was fierce, attracting sword masters who had been honing their skills for decades. The tournaments were dangerous, with deaths occurring almost every time. Helbo tried to dissuade him.

"You haven't been in Braavos long enough to know, but every tournament brings out a new crop of sword masters, and almost every time someone dies in the arena…" Helbo warned.

"My goal is not to win the championship. I have other plans," Viserys reassured him.

In fact, Viserys wasn't fooling Helbo. After spending more than three months in this world, he had sensed some subtle changes. According to the original plot, he and Dany would have run away to another city to avoid debt. But because of his transmigration, Viserys not only stayed in Braavos, but he was also thriving.

He sensed that the assassin newly sent by Robert was quite capable. According to the images in his dream, the assassin had been drifting at sea for at least ten days, showing his toughness.

Robert had been on the throne for more than ten years, spending all his time partying and drinking, and racking up a huge debt. Now, he had been in power for less than eight years, and the financial situation had not yet deteriorated to the point of being out of control. What if he found that Viserys was growing up too fast and decided to bite the bullet and pay the Faceless Men hundreds of thousands of gold dragons to assassinate him?

The headquarters of the Faceless Men, the House of Black and White, was in Braavos. Viserys hoped to raise his "value" as much as possible through the tournament, making the price Robert would have to pay for his assassination prohibitively high. The "remnants of the former dynasty" might be far away, but the gold coins in front of Robert were not.

Viserys believed this possibility was very high. After all, when the Mother of Dragons was pregnant in the original story, Robert hadn't bothered to find the Faceless Men. Now, it was even less likely.

Viserys was confident that in three months, his constitution would improve significantly, allowing him to fully display his sword skills.

At the same time, the Water Dancer swordsman teaching Dany was also gaining knowledge and skill from their sessions. He would likely achieve a good ranking in the upcoming competition. Viserys had heard that the champion of the swordsmanship competition would be awarded a Valyrian steel sword, while the poetry competition champion would receive a dragon egg! These were generous prizes from Braavos, and though it was just a rumor, the value of the final prize was expected to be substantial.

If he could win a lot of money through the competition, Viserys planned to take Dany and leave Braavos. He would hide and bide his time, eventually changing his appearance and joining a mercenary group. With the money earned, he could buy more dragon eggs—three were not enough; he needed at least five. In a few years, Dany would hatch the dragons, and they would retrace the Mother of Dragons' path to glory. Of course, the part about marrying the Horselord would be omitted. Viserys was confident he could command a thousand-man mercenary group within a few years, all without selling his sister.

After hatching the dragons, he would go directly to Astapor in Slaver's Bay to recruit those who sought vengeance. These plans, however, he kept to himself. To Helbo, he only mentioned his intention to participate in the tournament. Helbo, having no reason to refuse, promised to take care of the registration.

Just as the two were about to part ways, Viserys's servant entered and reported, "M'lord, there is a man outside who claims to be Illyrio and says he wants to see you."

Illyrio! Viserys's eyebrows raised, and his whole body tensed in high vigilance. This Illyrio was, in many ways, the most important person he had encountered since his arrival. Viserys guessed that Illyrio was far more than just a merchant—he had quite a reputation and considerable influence.

Viserys thought that if Illyrio could get in touch with the Horselords, he could probably connect with many Sellsword leaders as well. Although Viserys no longer planned to use Illyrio to sell his sister, maintaining contact with him was crucial if he wanted to pursue the Sellsword route in the future.

Helbo, perceptive as ever, noticed Viserys's reaction and realized he was not needed. He took the initiative to leave, exiting through a small door.

Viserys now felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Illyrio was the second original character he had met (if he counted himself as the first, then Illyrio was the third). This man had a lot of influence and power.

He turned to the maid and said, "Jill, tell Dany that today's lesson is over. Take her to change and wait in the drawing room."

"Yes, M'lord," Jill replied.

Viserys took a deep breath, changed into a silver coat provided by the servant, and walked straight to the front door. Outside the gate, a corpulent man sat in a lavish carriage. His golden beard and hair, combined with a red robe, exuded an aura of wealth. Rings adorned every finger, each one colorful and ornate.

Despite his opulent appearance, young Illyrio was once an assassin. Through his cunning and resourcefulness, he became a wealthy merchant in Pentos. Dragon bones, dragon eggs, jewelry—these were all part of his extensive business. His luxurious carriage parked outside was a symbol of his wealth, attracting the attention of everyone on the street.

Illyrio had begun gathering information on Viserys as soon as he arrived in the city. The boy had reportedly killed more than ten people in one night. This was extraordinary. Illyrio had initially thought that Viserys would be a broken man after the "Feast of the Crown," but instead, he seemed to have developed a new talent.

Soon, Illyrio saw Viserys approaching. Any doubts he might have had vanished when he saw the handsome young man. Viserys exuded an aura of confidence and strength, and Illyrio could sense his presence even from a distance.

The scent of blood was unmistakable.

Chapter 21: Bluffing

Illyrio exuded an aura of luxury, but in a more remote area, he would stand out like a fish out of water. However, his bodyguards were no amateurs. The coachman and the guards following the carriage were not to be underestimated. Especially noteworthy was the guard in the brown coat, whose broad chest and strong thighs hinted at his prowess even through his clothes.

Illyrio himself had once been an assassin, and his entourage were no slouches either. They quickly sized each other up with practiced ease.

"Prince Viserys," Illyrio called out as he descended from the carriage with the help of his escort, a smile on his lips.

"Lord Illyrio," Viserys replied.

"You are becoming more and more like Prince Rhaegar."

Illyrio knew better than to compare Viserys to his father, the Mad King. Instead, he chose to flatter Viserys by comparing him to Rhaegar, who still had a good reputation despite his flaws.

"Ha, you're joking. I'm no match for my brother. But you're in luck. The fog in Braavos has lifted a lot since you were announced to be coming."

The two exchanged pleasantries and headed towards the living room. Illyrio quickly noted that Viserys had changed. Previously, Viserys had been stiff and formal in social situations. Now, he carried himself with casual confidence. Despite living in a place that was not as grand as before, Viserys made it seem stylish with his bearing.

As they passed through the courtyard, Illyrio noticed the mannequins and weapons rack. While the clean weapons rack could be attributed to diligent servants, the densely marked dummy target told a different story. It indicated that Viserys had not neglected his martial arts training.

Soon, they arrived at the living room. The furnishings were relatively ordinary, with a reasonable number of lamps, all courtesy of Morel. However, a few chairs caught Illyrio's attention—they were a bit too wide. When Illyrio sat down, he found them to be soft and comfortable, almost like being embraced.

With the intuition of a successful businessman, he immediately recognized the value of these chairs. "Could it be a new product from Braavos? No, if Braavos had such a thing, I would have heard about it!" he thought. Could it be that the young prince had designed the chair himself?

Suppressing his curiosity for the moment, Illyrio refocused on Viserys. "I heard that the Prince has been doing some business with loans lately?"

"Ha, yes, it's just enough to support my sister," Viserys replied, generously explaining how he had entered this "industry." His unreserved attitude impressed Illyrio.

Illyrio knew that some fallen nobles could be overly ambitious yet lack practical skills, unwilling to do any real work and preferring to remain poor. As a businessman with a pragmatic instinct, Viserys' attitude resonated with him. However, if Viserys intended to live like this indefinitely without any ambition to restore his kingdom, his investment value would be significantly reduced.

"What are your plans for the future, Prince?" Illyrio asked indirectly, probing for Viserys' true ambitions.

Viserys's lips curled slightly into a knowing smile. Instead of answering Illyrio's question directly, he posed one of his own, "Do you think Robert's rule is stable?"

Illyrio's eyes widened a fraction before he replied thoughtfully, "When Robert first raised an army, he had the backing of the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands. He and Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell, were both wards of Lord Arryn of the Vale, and the two were like brothers. Later, he gained the support of the Westerlands by marrying Cersei. Under these circumstances, Highgarden also pledged its allegiance. As for Dorne... they are somewhat isolated and weak."

Viserys nodded, understanding the implications. When the Targaryens were first overthrown, Dorne had even approached him to discuss a marriage alliance, only to later swear fealty to Robert. Their willingness to engage with Viserys had diminished as Robert's rule solidified. Illyrio's point was clear: Viserys's chances of reclaiming the throne were slim, and he wanted to gauge Viserys's reaction.

"My lord," Viserys began, "I believe the fate of Westeros may ultimately be decided by a woman."

Illyrio raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"Take Robert, for example. The Baratheons are all black-haired and blue-eyed, yet his three children are blond and blue-eyed."

"Another example, in the early years, rumors abounded that Petyr Baelish boasted of sleeping with Catelyn Tully, but the one who was in love with him was her sister, Lysa. You know what happened to Lysa. She married Jon Arryn, a man old enough to be her father. Littlefinger's rise to power in the court is inseparable from her influence."

Illyrio, a merchant who thrived on information, leaned in, clearly fascinated by Viserys's insights. Viserys continued, "Have you heard about Ned Stark's bastard?"

Illyrio nodded, curious if there was more to the story.

"It's said that the boy might actually be Rhaegar's son with Lyanna Stark," Viserys revealed mysteriously.

Illyrio's eyes widened in surprise. The notion seemed implausible at first, but then he realized it wasn't entirely impossible. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew about Rhaegar and Lyanna, and their relationship had been one of the catalysts for Robert's Rebellion. However, the implications of Viserys's statement were profound.

'This is the benefit of being a transmigrator,' Viserys thought proudly, feeling a pang of sympathy for his nephew.

But Illyrio's instinct to seek verification quickly kicked in. "Your news..."

Viserys remained enigmatic. "Varys," he said simply.

Illyrio's eyes widened in realization. It all made sense. When it came to information, no one was better than Varys. He hadn't considered that Varys might still be in contact with Viserys, even from within the Red Keep.

Illyrio looked at Viserys with newfound respect. No wonder he had recovered from the blow of the "Feast of the Crown." He had found a powerful ally. But how had Varys managed to contact him? And why hadn't Illyrio known about it?

Before he could puzzle it out, Viserys changed the subject. "I recently heard a very wise saying: good luck does not favor fools, and opportunities are reserved for those who are prepared."

He continued, "A good knight keeps his sword sharp at all times, waiting for the right moment. Practicing martial arts, studying, and even saving money—these are all things I need to do and am doing."

Chapter 22: Hoarding Rare Goods

A man as astute as Illyrio couldn't be fooled by Viserys' lofty words. What truly intrigued him was the possibility that Viserys had the support of Varys. He wondered why Varys hadn't informed him, but he knew better than to reveal their secret now.

Illyrio clapped his hands, signaling to the brown-clad guard. "Bring me the gift I prepared for the Prince."

The guard looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry M'lord, I left the gift in the carriage."

Illyrio feigned anger. "You useless piece of trash, you can't even do this simple task. Go get it!"

"Yes, M'lord!" The guard hurried out of the room, his demeanor relaxing as soon as he turned away.

Viserys understood the game. If he hadn't shown potential or value, the gift might never have been given. But he knew better than to question it. They would keep their thoughts to themselves and maintain the charade of friendship.

While the guard retrieved the gift, Dany finally emerged from her room. She wore a light purple dress and moved gracefully, her long silver hair adorned with delicate accessories. Her small hands lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing a vision of ethereal beauty. With her silver hair and violet eyes, she looked like a moonlit fairy, an elf among flowers.

"Brother," Dany said softly to Viserys, before turning to Illyrio.

"This is Illyrio," Viserys reminded her.

Illyrio's eyes widened in amazement as he looked at Dany. He took a moment to compose himself before returning her greeting.

Viserys, noticing Illyrio's distraction, said to Dany, "Come, sit by my side."

Dany obediently sat next to Viserys, her back straight and her manners impeccable. Illyrio had seen Dany before at the House with the Red Door, where she had been an adorable child. Now, she was blossoming into a captivating young woman.

Although she wasn't yet in full bloom, she had already developed a striking presence. In the original storyline, Illyrio was supposed to meet the Viserys siblings a few years later, when Dany was around twelve or thirteen and had just started menstruating. In Viserys' world, such a marriage would be considered criminal, but here, it was the norm.

Even at fifteen or sixteen, Dany had the potential to charm a Sellsword leader and make him her loyal advisor. Illyrio's reaction to seeing Dany's beauty, even at a younger age, had been one of shock. Now, seeing her a little more mature, he was equally captivated.

Illyrio paused for a moment, then continued, "Prince, you mentioned that you are accumulating wealth while improving your skills. With all due respect, wealth accumulation is a lengthy process for ordinary people without capital."

Viserys leaned in, intrigued. "Go on."

Illyrio smiled, sensing Viserys' interest. "Take me, for example. It took me nearly half my adult life to earn my first pot of gold. However, it only took two or three years to earn my second and third pots of gold. The same principle applies to land. It may take generations to acquire the first piece, but once you have it, acquiring more becomes significantly easier. I believe the same holds true for a kingdom. You may need an initial boost."

Viserys understood immediately. "You mean a starting capital."

"Exactly," Illyrio nodded. "Marriage is a common means of alliance between nobles, much like the proposed marriage between you and Dorne. However, given the current situation..."

Viserys understood the implication. The alliance might fall through.

"But if you trust me, I believe I can find a suitable marriage partner for Princess Dany, one who might bring an army as a dowry."

Dany, now part of the conversation, blinked nervously. The mention of marriage unsettled her, for she was too young to grasp its full consequences. She bit her lip, trying to keep her composure, remembering Viserys' teachings on maintaining royal composure.

Viserys sensed her discomfort but kept his focus on Illyrio. "Of course, I've considered this. However, given our current circumstances, finding a suitable match for Dany might be challenging."

Dany trembled slightly at Viserys' words, feeling a pang of sorrow at the thought of separation. She had always imagined being with Viserys forever, and now, the idea of parting weighed heavily on her young heart.

Viserys, despite his words, had no intention of using Dany as a bargaining chip. His predecessor's approach of trading family for power was something he now disdained. He believed in the value of strength for protection, not just for its own sake.

His apparent interest in the marriage was merely to keep Illyrio engaged. As a wealthy Magister of Pentos, Illyrio was well-versed in Targaryen traditions. To secure his support, Viserys needed to play along.

Sure enough, Illyrio approved of Viserys' attitude. Meanwhile, the guard returned with the gift. Wrapped in red silk, its shape was unmistakable—a long bow.

The guard placed the gift on the table, and Illyrio himself removed the silk, revealing a black dragonbone bow. The bow, four or five feet long, was as black as the night sky, curved like a crescent moon, as if crafted from a dragon's rib. It exuded a powerful and mysterious aura. Alongside the bow were three replacement strings, a testament to Illyrio's thoughtful preparation.

"A small token of my appreciation. Please accept it, Prince."

"Thank you, Illyrio. I accept it with gratitude."

Viserys smiled as he picked up the Dragonbone Bow. Pale blue text appeared in front of his eyes:

[Dragonbone Bow, provides 2.58 Assignable Points, daily Assignable Points increase by 0.08.]

2.58 points! Is it related to the size?

Viserys put his questions aside for the time being. Illyrio was in the Dragonbone business. If I could just take a look around his warehouse...

He pulled the bowstring without making a sound, drawing it to about 70% of its capacity. This display of strength was impressive for a minor and gave Illyrio a glimpse of Viserys's potential.

He carefully supported the bowstring and let it slowly return to its resting position, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Illyrio. This showed his respect and understanding of the weapon, earning him more favor from the merchant.

Any bow left unstrung could suffer damage, and as a jeweler and Dragonbone merchant, Illyrio appreciated the care Viserys showed. Although the bow was now a gift, it still meant something to him that it would be cherished.

The two men chatted a while longer. Illyrio mentioned he had another business meeting to attend, so he didn't stay long. Before leaving, he left Viserys another gift.

Viserys couldn't help but marvel at Illyrio's extravagance.

Chapter 23: Confession Night, Terrifying Skinchanger

This Dragonbone Bow only further confirmed Viserys's suspicions. It seemed that contact with dragon products provided Assignable Points, and continuous contact would keep those points accumulating. As soon as his meeting with Illyrio was over, he opened his panel to check.

Every morning, Viserys would add Assignable Points to his Constitution and then reallocate proficiency points from other skills to his swordsmanship. Today, he found that his Assignable Points had increased from 0 to 2.58.

The Dragonbone Bow had added 2.5 Assignable Points. With the 0.05 bonus from the Dragonbone Dagger, the 0.08 from the Dragonbone Bow, and his original 0.1, his daily Assignable Points had increased to 0.23, more than doubling his rate of accumulation.

With less than four months until the Ten-Day Celebration, this meant his Constitution could increase by over 20 points, bringing it to at least 80+. This would make him a top-notch warrior, greatly increasing his chances of ranking well or even winning the championship. If the prize for the champion of the sword competition was truly a Valyrian steel sword, Viserys would fight for it no matter what. Valyrian steel swords were light, tough, and hard—a holy weapon in the heart of every swordsman.

However, he wondered if Braavos would really be willing to give away such a weapon, suspecting there might be some shady dealings behind the scenes.

Viserys also planned to participate in the poetry contest. Who says you can't be a copycat in a different world? As an art student, he had heard countless classics, and just one of his poems could spread to every corner of this world. If the prize was indeed a dragon egg, he had to try his hand at it.

There was just one problem: to participate in the poetry competition, he needed the approval of someone of a high social standing, unless he was already a famous Master and could enter on his own. Otherwise, no matter how good his work was, it would be useless if no one could give him the exposure he needed.

The courtesans were very strict with the performers who wanted to use their fame to compete. If they performed well, they could help each other; if not, they wasted the courtesans' resources.

Braavos officials took this matter very seriously, as did Highgarden in Westeros, which also had great respect for poets and singers. Thanks to these artists, Highgarden had become the most beautiful castle in the Seven Kingdoms. Even though they were thousands of miles apart, there was a subtle competitive tension between the two.

If the prize for the poetry contest was a dragon egg, Viserys would definitely participate. Another great gift Illyrio had left was a large sum of money stored in the Iron Bank. Whether it was a loan or a donation was left unsaid, but Viserys didn't plan to pay him back. He suggested that Illyrio could try his hand at the "couch" business, which would be profitable enough.

The two men understood each other perfectly without saying a word.

...

At dinner, Viserys noticed that Dany was unusually downcast. She picked at her food, barely eating, and responded minimally when he spoke to her.

"I'm full," she said, rising from her seat and preparing to go upstairs.

"Wait a minute," Viserys called, glancing at the maid standing by and gesturing for her to leave.

He understood that Dany's mood was likely due to Illyrio's marriage proposal earlier in the day. As the maid left and the room grew quiet, the candlelight flickered softly, casting shadows on the walls. The strange atmosphere made Dany's heart tighten.

Viserys looked at her, taking in her downcast purple eyes and the way her silver braids hung down her shoulders and across her chest. Her arms, exposed by the open sleeves of her dress, glowed with a pearly luster. She was the embodiment of "exquisitely beautiful."

"Dany, will you stay by my side forever?" he asked gently.

Dany met his gaze, momentarily stunned by the intensity in his eyes.

"I..."

"It's just like you think, just like Aegon and his sisters," Viserys continued.

Dany was no longer a child, and she could vaguely understand the implications of his words. A blush spread across her cheeks, and her ears began to burn.

Viserys walked up to her and whispered, "I will never use you as a bargaining chip," he said, kissing her forehead lightly. "Wait until you grow up."

Dany watched him leave, sitting in the chair for a long time, trying to process what had just happened. It felt as if she had received something precious, and she couldn't help but stamp her feet lightly a few times before finally heading upstairs.

...

During this time, Viserys felt much more at ease. His days were spent at the workshop, and in the evenings, he cherished moments with Dany. He also found time to practice archery, adding a new skill to his repertoire. However, due to the strict laws in Braavos, which prohibited the use of bows and arrows outside the home, he refrained from upgrading his archery skills immediately. He planned to do so later when he joined the Sellswords.

An incident during a meal brought a serious realization. When a maid reminded Dany to be cautious of hot food, Viserys recognized the potential danger if her identity was ever exposed to the Faceless Man.

This would increase the priority of her assassination. Robert might even consider hiring the Faceless Men to target Dany. Known for their unpredictability and penchant for considering assassination an art, the Faceless Men might offer Robert a discount for the chance to eliminate such a unique person.

Determined to protect her, Viserys began training Dany to act as though she feared the heat. 'Without strength, there is no sense of security,' he thought, watching her fall asleep. He prepared to use Dragon Dreams again to gather more information about the assassin.

After the first time he actively used Dragon Dreams to search for information, he noticed his Magic had increased by 0.3, bringing it to 19. This was significantly faster than his Constitution, which increased by less than 0.1 points per day through diligent exercise. However, the recovery period for using Dragon Dreams was lengthy, taking two or three days to fully recuperate. During this time, he felt sluggish, and his efficiency in exercising or practicing swordsmanship was greatly reduced.

He mused that in three or four years, when the tide of magic returned, figures like Melisandre, the Greenseers, and various magical creatures would start to re-emerge, making magic once again a dominant force in the world.

For Viserys, physical prowess such as swordsmanship and Constitution were essential, so he didn't focus on improving his magic attributes. After lying down, Viserys activated Dragon Dreams to track down the assassin once again. He figured that after more than ten days, the assassin might have perished at sea. This time, he planned to quickly confirm the assassin's status and then end the dream promptly.

It didn't take long for Viserys to enter the Dragon Dreams state. He heard the muffled voices of seagulls and the sound of waves overlapping. The sun was slowly sinking into the sea, creating a golden veil. Surprisingly, the assassin was still alive but lying on a sampan like a dead fish, seemingly at death's door.

In the next moment, the assassin sprang to life, rolled over, and scooped up a small fish from the water. Viserys was taken aback. "No, is this really possible?!" he thought, his knowledge of survival techniques exceeded. Remembering his past life as a member of the air force, he considered taking the assassin as his master for survival skills. With his fishing prowess, the assassin could probably survive another ten days adrift at sea.

The assassin skillfully prepared the fish with his dagger, displaying a certain elegance in his movements. However, Viserys noticed something strange. When the assassin cut open the fish, his body trembled as if he had been punched. His expression also indicated he was enduring some intense pain.

Viserys decided not to watch further and interrupted the vision. He opened his panel and saw:

—

Magic: 6.1

—

In less than half a minute, he had used up most of his magic. Fortunately, he stopped in time, avoiding dizziness or loss of cognitive ability.

Viserys sat up in bed and looked out the window. It was completely dark outside. It seemed that the range of Dragon Dreams' reconnaissance could span different 'time zones.' Maybe, he thought, he could one day find out why this planet always had extreme weather.

But for the time being, he put the idea out of his mind and went to his desk.

"Unbelievable way of fishing," he wrote, "It's like a synesthetic response." He began to think deeply about what he had witnessed.

Fish react quickly, and if the killer had used a tool to spear them, that would be one thing. But this guy was lying on a paddleboat, catching fish with his bare hands. Speed and precision, both were essential. And with his face to the sky, could it be that this guy had such good hearing that he could locate the fish by sound alone? It seemed impossible.

Then there was the synesthesia. Judging from his state, he hadn't been short of food these days. There was an endless supply of sea fish, and he hadn't even lost much weight. But the reaction of shaking when he stabbed the fish was really strange. Could it be some kind of psychological reaction? Or a negative state? Or perhaps a punishment?

Killing an animal and being hurt in return—there could only be one explanation: a Skinchanger!

Viserys suddenly felt a chill down his spine. The Skinchangers in the novel could transfer their consciousness into the body of an animal, possessing their skills and senses. The animals they possessed were called "animal companions." Eagles, goats, dogs, direwolves... One of the more famous Skinchangers was Bran Stark, who was a wolf spirit and the heir to the Three-Eyed Raven.

He could transfer his consciousness not only to his own direwolf but also to Hodor. In addition, Jon and a bunch of wildlings beyond the Wall were also Skinchangers.

The information about Skinchangers noted that if their "animal companion" died, they would also be affected. If the host died, the consciousness would be trapped in the animal. The assassin's reaction after killing the fish was remarkably similar to that of a Skinchanger.

Judging from the current situation, the assassin was able to capture an animal companion in a short period of time. And after killing the animal companion, he could continue to withstand the effects of its death. This indicated he might be a high-level Skinchanger. A very high-level one. With such a strong ability to invade consciousness, could he directly invade people's minds?

Viserys pounded the table with some anxiety and cursed in a low voice, "Damn it! Robert, that fucking lickspittle, where the hell did he find such a fucking cheater?"

Chapter 24: Temple of the Moonsingers

"He must never be allowed to go ashore!" Viserys felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead at the thought of the assassin's demonstrated abilities. Skinchangers are terrifying; they can completely control animals to assassinate or poison without leaving any trace. Their skills are as formidable as his own Dragon Dreams.

But Viserys quickly calmed himself. First of all, such a powerful assassin is unlikely to be at the command of just anyone. Otherwise, it would be a waste to use him for an assassination attempt on someone like himself. If the assassin worked for Robert, then why not use him to solve his debt problems first? Robert's bias against the Westerlands could have been exploited to get rid of Cersei and even the old lion, Tywin.

And if the assassin belonged to Littlefinger or Varys, it would be even more impossible. These two don't trust easily. Littlefinger has always been scheming to rise to power. To kill Jon Arryn, the foster father of Ned and Robert, he had to manipulate his mistress, Lysa. And who knows what Varys is up to? If Varys could control such a powerful Skinchanger, he would have already taken advantage of it.

So it is very likely that the true extent of the assassin's abilities is not known to others. This makes Viserys a little worried. Calming his emotions, he realized that since he had Dragon Dreams, he didn't need to worry too much. Although the assassin's methods are more bizarre, Viserys has the advantage of foresight. If the assassin does make it to Braavos, he can prepare in advance and even arrange an ambush. The odds of winning are still in his favor.

For now, Viserys decided to visit the temples of Braavos to see if there were any clues to increasing his magic power. His first choice was the Temple of the Moonsingers. Before Braavos was built, it was the Moonsingers who led the slaves escaping the Valyrian Empire to find this sanctuary of prophecy. And prophecy is real in the world of Game of Thrones. Since they can predict the future, it means that this group of people has some real power. In the original story, the Moonsinger taught Dany the "Song of Childbirth." Perhaps there are other "songs," so Viserys decided to take advantage of his free time and visit.

Dany practices swordsmanship very hard every day, so Viserys decided to give her a break and take her along. "Where are we going?" Dany asked excitedly. The last time she went out with Viserys was to buy fish. "Let's go to the Moonsinger Temple, bring some money."

"Okay!" she replied enthusiastically.

She changed into a light blue dress, tied her silver-white hair into a pigtail, and let it fall behind her head. Viserys couldn't help but notice how well light-colored clothes complemented their hair and skin tones.

In a world where everything seems a bit 'dirty and dark,' the two of them quickly became the focus of attention wherever they went. The siblings got into the carriage and, after half an hour, passed an arch bridge, catching sight of the Temple of the Moonsingers in the distance.

Dany, sitting in the carriage, lifted the curtain and looked out with her purple eyes. She immediately recognized the white building as the Temple of the Moonsingers. The all-white temple stood out prominently among the other structures. It was the largest temple in Braavos, built to honor and thank the Moonsingers. The grand marble palace was topped with a large silver-white dome, surrounded by milky-white glass windows depicting the different phases of the moon.

As they stepped out of the carriage, they saw a pair of marble statues of maidens standing guard at the temple's main gate. The spotless stone slabs at their feet added to the feeling of tranquility and holiness.

A beautiful woman, accompanied by a maid, emerged from the temple and happened to meet the siblings. "What a beautiful girl. I hope my child will be as beautiful as her," the woman said softly, touching her slightly swollen belly.

"That's for sure, Lady Methys. Your beauty will be passed on to your child," the maid replied, bringing a pleased smile to the lady's face.

Lady Methys then noticed that Dany was standing next to a young man. Observing their similar features, she guessed they were siblings. "That young man is also very handsome," she remarked.

Viserys nodded slightly to the woman, and Dany smiled back, her purple eyes as bright as jewels, melting the woman's heart. She gestured to the maid standing beside her, who approached the siblings and said, "M'lord, Lady Methys would like to have a word with you. Is this a convenient time?"

"Of course," Viserys replied.

The maid led them to Lady Methys. Viserys observed that the lady, likely in her mid-twenties, appeared pregnant. Her round face and flushed cheeks hinted at her condition, though there was a hint of grayish white on her blush. The slightly bulging belly suggested she was drawn to Dany by overflowing maternal love.

"So the so-called Temple of the Moon Singers is actually a temple for women, and this is where they tie up dolls," Viserys thought to himself. He then approached the noblewoman and said, "Lady, your beauty adorns this city."

"Oh, your praise is like a spring breeze," she replied with a gracious smile, "but I must admit, the beauty of you and your sister evokes a bit of jealousy."

Dany blushed shyly, realizing that the lady was praising her. This reaction only endeared her more to the noblewoman, who immediately removed a bracelet adorned with colorful gemstones from her wrist and offered it to Dany.

The bracelet, crafted from gold and studded with pigeon egg-sized gemstones, was undoubtedly expensive. Viserys initially wanted to decline out of politeness, but the noblewoman's extravagance made him decide otherwise. Dany glanced at Viserys, seeking his approval. Seeing his encouraging nod, she lifted the hem of her skirt, bowed in thanks, and allowed the noblewoman to clasp the bracelet around her wrist.

For an eight-year-old, the bracelet was too large, and Dany had to bend her arm to keep it from slipping off. The noblewoman, seemingly pleased by the encounter, left shortly after, her servant helping her into a beautiful carriage. Viserys noted the depiction of two hands on the back of the carriage and recognized it as the Zalyne House crest.

Zalyne House was one of the three great houses of Braavos, along with House Antaryon, from which the current Sealord hailed, and House Fregar. Though the Sealord was nominally chosen from the entire population of Braavos, in practice, almost all came from these three houses.

'Who says good looks don't pay the bills? This is how you pay the bills,' Viserys thought with a smirk. After checking the bracelet to ensure it was genuine, he took Dany's hand and led her into the temple.

Chapter 25: Song of the Moon

After entering the temple, Viserys and Dany were struck by the pristine whiteness of the walls, dome, and statues. Sunlight filtered through windows representing different phases of the moon, creating a beautiful circle of light on the ground, giving the impression of a magical circle beneath their feet. This enchanting effect added to the temple's serene and otherworldly atmosphere.

The three statues of goddesses at the front of the temple were the most eye-catching. Carved from marble, each statue stood four or five meters tall, reminiscent of the grandeur of the statue of David that Viserys had seen in his previous life. The central goddess held a book and wore a hood, while the two goddesses on either side, slightly shorter, held a sword and a lamp respectively.

To the right of these statues stood a yellow wooden donation box, where visitors would place money after praying. Viserys noticed someone praying silently before the statues, hands clasped in reverence. Not wanting to disturb the worshipper, he led Dany to explore the murals depicting the legends of the Moon Singers.

One mural caught Dany's attention. "Brother, look, the moon is cracking," she whispered.

"Cracking?" Viserys followed her gaze and saw that the moon in the mural indeed appeared to have a crack running through it. At first glance, it looked like a flaw in the wall, but on closer inspection, it was clear the moon was intentionally depicted as cracked.

Viserys recalled the Valyrian legends of dragons emerging from a split moon and wondered why this well-known story wasn't depicted in the mural. Perhaps there was another explanation, but he decided to leave that mystery for another time.

Once the prayer group left, Viserys led Dany to the statue of the central goddess. Nearby, a tall, thin holy sister wearing a white hood stood attentively, responding to the worshippers based on their donations. Her gaze lingered on the striking siblings as they approached.

Viserys nodded slightly at the holy sister, who seemed captivated by his presence. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow to convey a sense of deep worry. He knew she would be watching, and to engage her in a meaningful conversation, he needed to leverage the power of his money. Of course, his intention was purely to gain insight and help, not anything untoward.

After about two or three minutes, Viserys approached the yellow donation box. He took a handful of gold coins from his pocket and dropped them into the box through the round hole in the lid. The holy sister's eyes lit up at the sight of the generous donation. She was struck by the young man's handsome appearance and apparent wealth. Clearly, something was troubling him, and she felt compelled to offer her assistance.

As Viserys turned away from the box, the holy sister approached him. She first drew a circle on her chest, a gesture used by the Moon Singers, and then said, "May the Goddess guide us."

"May the Goddess guide us," Viserys responded in kind.

"I noticed your solemn expression while you were praying. Have you encountered a problem? If you have a family member traveling far away, I have a song of protection. If you have a wife giving birth, I have a song of childbirth. If you are confused about something, I have a song of guidance."

Viserys slightly bowed and replied, "Thank you for your kindness. We don't have any relatives traveling far away. My sister and I are each other's only family."

The holy sister's eyes widened in surprise. She had assumed that the well-dressed siblings must be from a large, affluent family, but now realized they were orphans. This incorrect assumption made her feel a bit embarrassed.

"I don't have a wife either," Viserys continued, "but as for the confusion..."

Seeing an opportunity to use her skills, the holy sister interjected, "Please, tell me what is troubling you."

Viserys looked embarrassed, hesitating before speaking. "Actually, I don't know how to explain it. I've been having strange dreams lately, and I feel dizzy and exhausted when I wake up. I'm worried that I might have a strange disease, but the Healer told me that my body is in perfect health. So, I came to seek the Goddess's guidance."

The holy sister pondered his words. It didn't seem like a psychological issue that her usual "talking therapy" could address, but she didn't want to turn Viserys away without trying to help.

"Is that so? I wonder if you could stay a little longer so I can fetch something that might help you," she suggested.

"Thank you very much," Viserys replied, watching as the holy sister walked past the statue and through a small door.

Everything Viserys had just said entered Dany's ears. She always thought that her brother was an inexhaustible well of energy, waking up before she opened her eyes and falling asleep after she closed them. She never imagined that Viserys would have such a problem with his body, and the realization made her very worried. She couldn't help but blame herself.

Five minutes later, the holy sister returned, holding a thin booklet in her hand.

"M'lord, I think it may be the things in your dreams that are troubling you. This is the 'Moon Song' of the Moon Chanting Temple. Chanting it under the moonlight will bring peace of mind and may help you."

Viserys looked at the booklet, noticing it was slightly yellowed, as if the holy sister had used it herself.

"This must be your personal item. It's too precious; I don't think I can accept it…"

The holy sister smiled warmly, pulling the fine lines at the corners of her mouth, which made people feel at ease.

"Don't worry, I've memorized the contents. Consider it a gift."

"A gift! This…" Viserys hesitated before accepting the booklet, and subconsciously activated his panel.

To his surprise, when his hand touched the booklet, his Magic value immediately recovered by 5 points. It seemed to be a good thing!

Realizing that the trip was worthwhile, Viserys touched himself and found that he was a little short on funds. Then he said apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I think I'll be back soon. Can I talk to you again then?"

The holy sister smiled and said, "Of course, that's not a problem." However, her eyes glanced at the bracelet on Dany's hand, understanding that her little scrapbook was not worth that.

Chapter 26: Song of the Moon II

After realizing the value of the "Song of the Moon," Viserys decided to return to his residence with Dany. On the way, he discovered that the booklet contained about 3,000 words, with the main content being praise and worship of the moon. The text was written in Valyrian and had a beautiful rhythm, making it more of a chant with tones. It also required visualization of the moonlight while reading, which added a level of difficulty.

As Viserys was engrossed in reading, Dany asked him, "Brother, have you been dreaming a lot lately?"

"Haha, I'm fine," Viserys replied, feeling a warmth in his heart as he petted her head, realizing she was worried about him. Dany, however, secretly resolved to remind him to rest more from that day on.

In the evening, Viserys found the moonlight particularly beautiful. The silver light scattered on the ground, creating a tranquil atmosphere. With the "Song of the Moon" in hand, Viserys climbed to a high place and began singing softly as instructed. He glanced at his Magic value, which was currently 11.6.

Following the prayer in the booklet, Viserys began to chant:

"The bright moon is in the sky, and its light shines on the stars."

"The moonlight is like a shadow, the moonlight is like water."

As he recited, he felt a cool energy flow into his body. The tiredness in his spirit was relieved, and his mood became more tranquil and indifferent. After about a quarter of an hour, Viserys checked his panel and found that his Magic value had recovered by two points, reaching 13.6.

Viserys was very surprised. The recovery rate of his Magic was several times faster. This meant he could use Dragon Dreams more frequently, giving him a better chance against the assassin. He continued to recite, and this time his Magic value increased again, reaching 15.2.

'It seems to be recovering a little slower,' he thought. He calculated that the recovery effect had decreased by about 20%, meaning he could recover about 6 points of Magic in an hour, and even less in the second hour. But one night was enough to fully restore his Magic.

Viserys continued to sing, and after three hours, his Magic had fully recovered.

"It seems the upper limit of my magic power hasn't increased. Maybe I didn't sing long enough?" Viserys pondered. However, he realized that in addition to restoring his magic points, the chant also seemed to replenish his energy. It was almost 1 a.m., but he wasn't sleepy at all. Instead, his mind was sharp and active.

"Wait, if the Temple of the Moonsingers has such powerful benefits, what about the Temple of the Lord of Light?" Viserys suddenly realized he had stumbled upon a treasure trove of opportunities.

In the novels, the First Mage, Melisandre, who serves the human side, worships the Lord of Light. If the Temple of the Moonsingers offered such advantages, then surely the Temple of the Lord of Light had even more to offer. Besides these two, Braavos also had the "Temple of the Father of Waters," the "Holy Refuge," and the infamous "House of Black and White." While the last one might be difficult to access, the first two were open to those who could pay.

"There may be other treasures in the Temple of the Moonsingers too," Viserys thought. The "Song of the Moon" seemed like the basic martial arts techniques from the novels of his past life. If there was a basic exercise method for outsiders, there must be an advanced method for insiders.

This visit to the Temple of the Moonsingers had cost the siblings over 30 gold dragons, but high-end items would undoubtedly cost more. "We need to make money, and we need it quickly!" Viserys' intuition told him he was in a period of "low Magic." The heads of the various temples probably didn't value these things highly, and as long as one was willing to pay, they could be obtained.

However, he needed funds now, but he couldn't hastily touch Illyrio's money. It was a strategic reserve meant to keep the other side in check. Drawing from it too soon would make him appear desperate and potentially deceitful. It was wiser to let the money sit in the Iron Bank for a while longer.

...

The next two days, Viserys took advantage of the good weather and the moonlight every night, planning to have Dany practice the Moon Song with him. However, he overlooked one problem—Dany was now considered "half-literate," and there were many words she didn't understand or didn't even know.

During their time in Braavos, the siblings were brought there by Ser WillemDarry, who unfortunately passed away a few years later. Dany was still very young then and couldn't learn much during those years. Her current education was almost like pre-childhood education, so Viserys had to hire another tutor to teach her to read and write properly.

Viserys took the opportunity to write down some of his past life's knowledge in Chinese characters so that he would not forget it. Among the most important information were the plot points of the original novel, including various major events and the fates of the characters. Of course, this included the parts relevant to Dany. That's why he didn't teach her Chinese.

Viserys enjoyed reading history books before his journey, as history often provided solutions to current problems. He would tell Dany stories from his world, changing the names and details, which also helped him deepen his understanding of those tales. Dany was surprised to find that Viserys' storytelling skills had improved significantly, moving beyond the simple "Once upon a time" formula.

Thanks to the whale oil candles from the workshop, their nights were much brighter and more enjoyable. These candles produced little smoke, burned brightly, and lasted a long time, enriching the siblings' nighttime activities. Unlike before, when they could only count the stars, often obscured by Braavos' frequent fog, they now had plenty of light to read and write by.

One evening, Viserys decided to take a break and was telling Dany the story of the Little Mermaid. Just as they reached the crucial moment when Ariel traded her voice for legs, Helbo sended a letter for Viserys, appearing to have something important to discuss. Though worried about the fate of the little mermaid, Dany obediently sat to the side.

"Lord Viserys, this is a letter from Helbo," the servant said, handing over the envelope.

Viserys took the envelope and gently tore it open. The letter was brief:

"Lord Viserys, I have invited the Morel to discuss payment at my residence tomorrow. Please be there. Also, the prize for the poetry competition has been confirmed: a dragon egg."

Needless to say, Viserys was excited about the dragon egg. Although everyone believed that dragons were extinct and could no longer hatch, the egg still held high ornamental and collection value. Illyrio was in the dragon egg business, so it was plausible that Braavos or the Sealord's Palace could use it as a prize. There was a possibility that they might use the dragon egg as a gimmick and secretly take it back later, but Viserys couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.

To win the dragon egg, he needed to find a way to contact Lady Moonshadow and become her minstrel. It was said that Lady Moonshadow was not easily accessible to ordinary people, so he had to devise a plan to reach her.

While the dragon egg prize was almost confirmed, the Valyrian steel sword was another matter. Such a weapon was truly magical, and it was uncertain if the Sealord's Palace would be able to offer it as a prize.

Helbo's invitation to the banquet had another motive: to get Viserys to help secure as much money as possible. Recently, a production accident occurred at the workshop. A newly recruited worker caused a small fire due to his lack of skill, resulting in the loss of hundreds of pounds of whale oil and several candle molds. The skilled workers had been lured away by another candle workshop offering higher salaries. It was evident that a powerful force with abundant financial resources was backing the rival workshop, intending to destroy Morel's business.

Helbo was not particularly concerned about Morel's workshop's future, but he was worried about getting paid. Morel had the backing of Lady Moonshadow, making it difficult for Helbo to provoke him. Viserys guessed that Morel might use his assets to pay off his debts, possibly converting some whale oil into money.

"Whale oil..." Viserys muttered, repeating the words over and over until something clicked. "Whale oil is animal fat. Besides being edible and used for lighting, it can also be used to make soap!"

Suddenly excited, Viserys grabbed a pen and paper and started jotting down his thoughts. Dany, standing nearby, tried to peek over his shoulder but couldn't understand the strange square characters he was using. Viserys still hadn't taught her this language.

As he wrote, Viserys became more animated, filling four or five sheets of paper before finally stopping. He looked over the stack of papers with satisfaction, as if he could see flowers blooming on the pages.

"Dany!" Viserys said happily, turning to her. "We'll soon have a dragon egg!"

Chapter 27: How to Turn One Pound of Gold into Two

The father and son were close to a desperate gamble. They had sold not only some of the family's most prized possessions but also a large number of shares to Lady Falia. All they wanted was to secure a significant share in the upcoming Ten-Day Festival, three months later. However, as the saying goes, "Misfortune never comes alone." Helbo had invited the father and son to a banquet, and the implications were clear. They needed to find a way to stabilize this volatile situation.

On their way to the mansion, they encountered Viserys. Both father and son felt a chill. Viserys was now the most dynamic member of Helbo's inner circle. He could transform from a reassuring ally into a dangerous adversary at any moment, putting them under immense pressure.

"Master Morel," Viserys greeted from his carriage.

"Lord Viserys," Morel responded, trying to maintain his composure.

After exchanging greetings, they fell into a brief, tense silence. Morel managed to stay calm, but young Rabbi was on pins and needles. The sight of the dozen or so corpses kept haunting him. He had dealt with the aftermath of those deaths himself, a memory he could never forget. The thought of becoming one of them made his desperation grow.

"Helbo mentioned he had some fine wine, quite exciting," Morel finally said, trying to break the silence with an insignificant comment.

Viserys took it as a simple greeting and replied, "Then let's hurry and get to the banquet early."

"Yes! Good!" Rabbi echoed, almost too eagerly.

Viserys urged his driver to speed up, leaving the anxious father and son behind.

Rabbi watched the dust kicked up by Viserys' carriage ahead of him, feeling a profound sense of desolation. He believed that, in Viserys' eyes, they had already become the party being pursued for payment. Remembering the "fish-eater" incident only deepened his dread, causing his hands and feet to grow colder.

To calm himself, Rabbi clung to the thought that Lady Falia had a stake in the workshop, and Helbo wouldn't dare push them too far. This gave him a fragile sense of security. However, he was well aware that Falia owned many properties and it was unclear how much help they could provide. They were essentially using Falia's name to gain leverage against Helbo, who was unaware of the true extent of Faria's involvement.

As these thoughts churned in his mind, they arrived at Helbo's mansion. Helbo, accompanied by a young accountant, greeted them. Contrary to what they expected, Helbo had not prepared a full banquet, but had set out some wine and refreshments in the living room.

Helbo's attention first went to Viserys, about to speak, but noticing Morel and Rabbi behind him, he let them settle in first. Viserys, however, had his own agenda and didn't quite agree with Helbo's plan. Though he worked for Helbo, the nature of their relationship would soon change.

Everyone took their seats, and Helbo got straight to the point. "Master Morel, I heard there was an incident at the workshop recently. How is it being handled?"

Morel quickly replied, "Thank you for your concern. It has been dealt with properly and will not affect subsequent production."

"That's great!" Helbo raised his voice. "Let's toast to the workshop!"

After a few drinks, Helbo continued, "Master Morel, it is an honor to work with you this time, thanks to Lord Viserys, of course."

Morel and Rabbi raised their glasses to thank Viserys, who acknowledged them with a nod.

"Our cooperation will end in a few days, and I hope to receive some payment in advance. I know this is a bit rude, but I can reduce the amount," Helbo said, spreading his hands helplessly. "I believe you understand that we are responsible for many people."

'Here it comes,' Morel and Rabbi thought, feeling a sinking sensation in their stomachs. They knew this was Helbo's test, and their future depended on today.

In reality, the money they had was far from enough, as almost all of it had been invested back into the workshop. They hoped to buy time until the first batch of goods was delivered, which might give them some breathing room. What they really needed was for Helbo to agree to delay the payment a little longer.

Morel looked troubled and said, "I'm really sorry, Master Helbo. We have obligations to others as well, and I understand your position. Rest assured, as soon as the first batch of goods is delivered, we will pay your fee as soon as possible."

"Yes, as soon as possible," Rabbi added, trying to sound convincing.

Viserys touched his chin, observing Helbo's changing expression. He watched with interest as Helbo continued, "Oh, is that so? I've heard some troubling rumors recently that the skilled workers in your workshop have all left. When exactly will the first batch of goods be delivered?"

The father and son exchanged uneasy glances before forcing smiles. "A little over a month, two at the most," Morel replied.

"So after the celebration? If that's the case, I'll have to charge interest, and..." Helbo said seriously, "I may also need some collateral."

"Collateral? I wonder what you think we can use as collateral?" Morel asked, feeling a sense of dread.

Helbo raised his glass, swirling the red liquid inside thoughtfully. "The candle workshop. I believe the whale oil is the most valuable asset you have."

"But whale oil is the raw material for making candles. Without whale oil..." Rabbi began to protest, but Morel quickly silenced him.

"Whale oil is indeed valuable. I wonder how much you think is appropriate as collateral," Morel asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"How much do you have?" Helbo inquired.

"About 700 pounds," Morel replied.

"Then 500 pounds," Helbo said decisively.

Morel felt a pang of despair. Mortgaging 500 pounds would leave them with only 200 pounds, making the production of the first batch of goods quite tight.

Helbo's real intention was to sell their collateral to another candle workshop. If it weren't for Falia's involvement, he would have taken it all without hesitation.

Just as Morel and his son were about to argue, a voice like the sound of nature rang out. "Helbo, I'm not in a hurry for my share. If my share is temporarily set aside, I think we should leave 350 pounds of whale oil for the workshop."

Rabbi looked at Viserys with gratitude, never expecting that this "god of death" in his heart would turn out to be such a considerate person. 350 pounds would make the production of the first batch of goods much easier.

Morel, more seasoned and perceptive, saw the unexpected defection at the negotiating table. It was surprising that Viserys would directly oppose Helbo in such a manner.

Helbo, meanwhile, glanced at Viserys with some displeasure but quickly masked his irritation. 'What's wrong with him? What is this kid doing?!'

Viserys continued in a calm, confident tone, "However, I have two conditions."

Chapter 28: Helbo: ‘Stupid’

Viserys had no plans to consult Helbo first. He hadn't even thought about it. He had seen high-ranking officials laugh and scold, and he had seen billionaires spit out their words. All that etiquette was meaningless to him. As long as he could steadily bring benefits, he would naturally have followers.

Between himself and Helbo, it was called cooperation, but it was really just a job. Now that Viserys had the skills and the capital, why would he work for someone else?

Despite Helbo's disapproving look and Morel's confusion, Viserys stated his conditions.

"However, I have two conditions."

"Please go on," Morel said eagerly. If there was a rift between Viserys and Helbo, it might be his chance.

"First, I hope you can provide me with a venue. I have some ideas I want to try."

"Yes! That's no problem."

Morel agreed very quickly, and even his bald head, which had become a little gray due to repeated blows, seemed to brighten a bit. Helbo, on the other hand, gulped down a few more drinks. If Viserys didn't stand on his side, he wouldn't dare make such an outrageous demand.

Three hundred and fifty pounds; he estimated that he would only get two hundred pounds at the end of the day. As for Viserys' share, he said that he didn't need to worry about it if he didn't want it for the time being.

"Second, I need you to introduce me to Lady Falia."

Helbo glanced at Viserys, the corner of his mouth curling up in a mocking arc. He realized what Viserys was trying to do. He probably wanted to take a chance on this opportunity and then own his own business.

Helbo couldn't figure out why Viserys would want to do that. He knew how much money Viserys had. That amount might be enough to maintain a relatively decent life. But if he wanted to do something significant, he should give up on it as soon as possible.

And his so-called "ideas"? There were many people in Braavos with ideas, and more ideas came out every day than fish in the sea. What was his reason?

Helbo thought that Viserys was ruining his own good today. But considering Viserys's might, he could endure it for now.

However, he then thought it might not be a bad idea. When Viserys had been rejected and lost all his money, he would be in a better position to deal with him. Besides, could he just see Falia of Moonshadow whenever he wanted?

With this thought, Helbo relaxed and turned to observe Morel's response with a relaxed attitude.

After hearing Viserys' request, Morel's brows, which had just begun to relax, furrowed again. He thought for a moment and said:

"I can introduce you, but... Lady Falia's schedule seems to be very full, and I've only met her three times."

In fact, Morel had never met her in person. He had always negotiated with Falia's housekeeper. Of course, if it was at a banquet, he had seen her from a distance once. Falia has the title of Moonshadow, so she always wears a veil in public. Morel has seen Falia's person, but not her face. Rounding off is the same as never seeing.

Helbo chuckled a little but didn't say anything.

"No problem, just remember to mention my name."

Helbo sneered inwardly, thinking, 'Mention your name? The Beggar King's name?'

Morel stayed silent. He only knew that Viserys was on his side now.

"Yes, when would you like to meet her?"

"I'll let you know."

The meeting had a relatively satisfactory outcome, at least for Viserys and Morel. Helbo undoubtedly prolonged the meeting, but Viserys went directly to the workshop with Morel afterward. Helbo saw them off at the gate, watching them leave impassively.

The incident was not a big deal, but it was not a small one either. Of course, Viserys's might was a significant factor.

Once they arrived at the workshop, Morel immediately found a suitable and tidy place for Viserys. All kinds of equipment were available, and Viserys was very satisfied.

He first asked someone to buy all the materials for him and then specially entrusted a patrolman to be the caretaker. Considering the issue of confidentiality, Viserys did almost everything himself. The others only had to help with the rough work.

At first, Rabbi was a little curious, wondering what Viserys was doing with the blankets. But under his father's tutelage, he immediately got down to the business of making candles and didn't ask any more questions.

Viserys planned to make some samples first, and the materials he needed were not many. Things like whale oil were taken directly from the warehouse, and Morel and his son didn't say anything.

From morning to afternoon, Viserys was busy for most of the day and finally got results. Looking at the thick, mushy substance in the cauldron, which looked like thick rice porridge, Viserys knew he had succeeded. All that was left was to let it sit for a while.

As for the subsequent drying process, it would take too long, so he would probably consider the more expensive "drying" method. Once his "technology" was recognized, he could standardize the process.

Afterwards, Viserys asked about the value of the workshop, which was around 30,000 gold dragons. Lady Falia had a 40% share. After some gentle prodding from Viserys, he learned from Rabbi that Lady Falia seemed intent on keeping the candle workshop. It seemed that the workshop was also very important to her. This gave Viserys more confidence in meeting Falia, who was known as the Moonshadow.

Even if he used the drying method, Viserys estimated that it would take half a month to wait for the first soap to be formed. During this time, he mainly practiced water dancing. Dany learned the full set, while Viserys focused on mastering the steps. This allowed Viserys's sword skills to improve rapidly.

——

Swordsmanship: Master (2164/10000) +

——

'There are still more than two months, which is more than enough time,' he thought.

Recently, Viserys had not only maintained his sword skills but also started to learn archery. With the help of the system's 'point-cleaning function,' he quickly reached the Proficient level.

One day, Viserys passively triggered Dragon Dreams.

It seemed that the assassin had settled in a hotel in Braavos. In the past, Viserys' strength was limited, and he could only trigger Dragon Dreams passively when the enemy arrived, allowing him to escape. But now he had considerable strength. Looking at the entire Braavos, even the Sealord's escort swordsmen could barely match him in a fight.

That night, Viserys donned his black cloak, glanced at Dany sleeping, and then disappeared into the night. Tonight, he was going to show the assassin what it meant to be a guest in his own home!

Chapter 29: The Themed Brothel

Viserys's Dragon Dreams were not yet strong enough to be directly targeted. This time, the information he obtained through a passive Dragon Dream was not entirely accurate. However, while his magical abilities might be limited, his reasoning skills were not.

Although Braavos is vast, certain key locations serve as transportation hubs and gathering points. By process of elimination, he could narrow down the possibilities.

First, Purple Harbor, the largest seaport in Braavos, only allows local ships to dock. Its taverns and inns cater exclusively to locals unless someone particularly wealthy or powerful arrives. Given that the assassin had been at sea for more than ten days, it was unlikely he would be found there. Thus, Purple Harbor was ruled out.

The most likely place was Ragman's Harbor, adjacent to Purple Harbor, which specializes in receiving outsiders. Among the inns there was the "Inn of the Green Eel." In the original story, Sam, Jon Snow's good friend, had once visited it, as had Arya Stark.

The inn was known for its diversity, with foreigners speaking various languages. It seemed the perfect hiding spot for an assassin who had come to kill Viserys and his sister.

Viserys chartered an inconspicuous boat with a silver moon coin to take him to the vicinity of Ragman's Harbor. He was determined to go straight to the Inn of the Green Eel. As a bustling commercial city, Braavos had no concept of a 'curfew.' The docks were always active, with porters working night shifts to earn more.

Upon arriving at the docks, Viserys observed a group of porters hauling cargo ships. They shouted in unison, straining against the weight in the dark waters. From a distance, they seemed to be swallowed by the black sea.

Viserys stepped ashore to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Near Ragman's Harbor was a place called the Cattery. Despite its name, it was not a house for cats but a brothel with a feline theme. The 'employees' wore fake cat ears and imitated the sounds of female cats' mating calls to lure in passersby. Their voices could make a man's bones melt.

Viserys quickly rubbed his face and left the area, muttering, "Normal reaction, normal reaction." He took several deep breaths of the sea air to calm himself before entering the Inn of the Green Eel.

The Inn of the Green Eel was the largest inn in the area, with a spacious interior. Each pillar was adorned with two or three candlesticks, and the inn used whale oil candles, making it exceptionally bright. Most areas were clearly visible, and five or six female waitresses served wine. Some guests, notably the rascals, pinched them on the buttocks, but the waitresses did not resist, knowing such guests gave more tips.

Viserys surveyed the bustling inn, noting the diverse crowd of at least a hundred people. The clientele was a mix of locals, Westerosi, and even two Dothraki with curved swords at their backs. Judging by their short braids, the Dothraki appeared to have lost more battles than they had won, indicating they were far from the fearsome warriors typically associated with their kind.

Finding the assassin in such a crowd would be no easy task. Viserys noticed three main groups of people engaged in conversation: one speaking the common tongue and two speaking Valyrian. Dressed as a sailor with a brown turban, Viserys blended in well and did not attract much attention.

He first approached the group speaking the common tongue. They were discussing the rebellion in the Iron Islands a few years ago, a topic unlikely to interest an assassin from Westeros. He then moved to the two groups speaking Valyrian, but they were engrossed in discussions about the upcoming 10-day celebration.

Realizing the assassin would not be among those discussing local gossip, Viserys ordered a glass of wine and found a vantage point where he could observe the inn. He systematically evaluated the patrons, trying to identify anyone suspicious.

Two men dressed in flamboyant clothes, like roosters in a chicken coop, were clearly local water dancers and could be ruled out. Several vendors with large packages seemed equally unlikely to be assassins, given their demeanor and habits.

Viserys quickly realized this method of identification was inefficient. A skilled assassin would be adept at camouflage. Deciding on a bolder approach, he chose to lure the snake out of its hole. Anyone showing an interest in the 'Beggar King' would be highly suspicious.

Viserys beckoned to a waitress, a girl of about seventeen. She had a slightly plumper figure than average and wore a knowing smile. Viserys took her hand, and though she pretended to pull away, he slipped her a handful of gold dragons.

"Please buy everyone a drink," he said in a flirty tone. "Tell them it's a treat from the sailor Sinbad, who wants to hear stories about the Beggar King. The rest is yours."

The waitress's heartbeat quickened at the sight of the little yellow treasures in her hand. She took another look at the "sailor Sinbad" and found the facial features behind his beard quite handsome. Her resistance melted away. She nodded, slipping a gold dragon into her sleeve, and made her way to the bar.

The innkeeper, a bald man in his forties with a prominent double chin from years of indulgent drinking, lingered behind the bar. Seeing someone pay for a round of drinks brought a gleam to his eye; it meant higher turnover. He took out a golden-colored copper cup and tapped it with a spoon.

Ding-ding-ding-ding—

The spoon hitting the cup created a crisp sound, and the inn immediately fell silent as everyone turned their attention to the bar.

The innkeeper pointed in Viserys's direction and announced, "Everyone, our sailor, Lord Sinbad, would like to offer everyone a drink. Let's raise our glasses to him! To Sinbad!"

"To Sinbad!" The patrons cheered. It was always good to drink for free, and they raised their glasses in the direction indicated by the innkeeper. Viserys nodded in acknowledgment.

The innkeeper continued, "Lord Sinbad would like to know something about the Beggar King. I wonder if anyone can tell us about him."

Chapter 30: Viserys’ Reputation

Ding-ding~~

A similar sound of knocking came from somewhere in the inn. A young man, dressed decently, stood up. His cuffs were tight and neat, and his high, straight nose gave him an air of authority.

"Everyone, I know a little about this Beggar King, Lord Sinbad," he said, raising his cup to Viserys before looking around the room to begin his story. "The Beggar King, whose real name is Viserys Targaryen, is a descendant of the fallen royalty of Westeros. Many know this, and he is called the Beggar King because, almost a year ago, he sold his mother's crown and invited a group of sellswords to a banquet, hoping they would help him restore his kingdom."

The young man paused for a moment, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes. "The banquet was called the Banquet of the Crown, and I was lucky enough to be there. You see, sellswords are businessmen, and they didn't think that the poor Beggar King could fulfill his promise, so they laughed at him mercilessly. I remember the leader of the Fist Sellsword laughing at him, calling him a 'child looking for milk everywhere.'"

He smiled at Viserys, who forced a polite smile in return. Viserys thought to himself, 'This is what it means to be a 'bully.' Most people didn't know the details of that banquet, but now they do.'

Viserys chose to hold himself down accept this unpleasant matter, but soon the sound of clinking glasses was heard again.

A short, stocky man stood up. Due to his height, some spectators in the distance didn't even see him at first. His neck was so thick that it was almost the same size as his head.

"Ahem, Lord, what you said is all history. In fact, this Beggar King is actually quite capable," the short, stocky man said, standing on his tiptoes and waving at Viserys before beginning his tale. "I don't know if you remember the Fierce Fish Company, but this Beggar King almost single-handedly wiped out the entire group."

"It was a few months ago, and the Beggar King had no money, so he used his sister as collateral. His sister was very beautiful, so the creditor agreed. But when the time came and he couldn't pay, the creditor sent someone to collect the debt and wanted to take his sister away by force. After that, the Beggar King killed them all. It was said that the situation was very tragic, and the blood that flowed out overflowed the alley!"

"My goodness!" someone exclaimed.

"How many people did he kill?" another asked.

"Why wasn't he arrested?" yet another wondered.

Compared to the initial ridicule, the public's opinion of Viserys had changed somewhat. They were shocked by his "brutality" and disgusted by his behavior of not paying his debts. Most of those disgusted were locals. However, the two Dothraki were quite excited, thinking that such a person was a true warrior.

"And that is why the Beggar King has earned the name 'Fish-Eater of the Fierce.'"

The burly man continued, then told the crowd about how Viserys had worked in the workshop as a laborer. This burly guy seemed to like using exaggerated expressions. He said that the gutter had turned red.

Although it was exaggerated, the voices that despised Viserys for not paying his debts disappeared, replaced by amazement that Braavos had produced another fierce man. The two Dothraki were even more excited. They pounded their chests and let out strange roars, attracting the attention of the others.

The first two people had already said everything they could say, and Viserys thanked everyone and then got up to leave. In fact, while the short man was telling the story, Viserys had been observing the others out of the corner of his eye. He had noticed that because the two men were talking so vividly, he hadn't noticed anything unusual.

He decided to hang around outside for a while. If the assassin was in the inn, he would probably follow him. If not, he would go to the next place. If the assassin understood the essence of "reimbursement," he might have to go to the Cattery.

Viserys slowed down and walked down a small road with few people. After walking for half an hour without seeing anyone following him, he decided to go somewhere else.

Just as Viserys was about to leave, an old woman wrapped in a grayish-blue shawl and hunched over appeared. At first glance, she looked like a giant prawn. As the old woman passed him, Viserys felt something was wrong but couldn't put his finger on it.

Watching her disappear around the corner, Viserys finally realized what it was. It was the smell! An old woman shouldn't smell so strongly of the sea. He thought back to the dream he had had, in which the assassin seemed to have been caught in a storm and had been adrift at sea for days.

He hurried after her, only to find that the old woman had disappeared. She really was up to something.

Just as Viserys was scanning the surroundings, he suddenly felt a gust of wind. His body instinctively dodged, and a sharp dagger slashed past him, leaving a bright afterimage.

It was the old woman from before! Now, she stood tall and straight, her disguise shed like a snake's skin.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?" Viserys demanded, his voice steady, though he was on high alert.

The assassin's features were obscured by shadows, and she spoke in a deliberately altered, hoarse voice. "What makes you think I'm following you?"

"Did Robert send you?" Viserys asked, his eyes narrowing. "It must have been hard to be at sea for so many days, right?"

The old woman's eyes widened in shock. How did he know about the storm? And the Zalyne House ship? How did he track me here?

This sudden insight into her recent struggles unnerved her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. The assassin, sensing the danger of the situation, turned and fled with the agility of a black cat.

Viserys, remaining calm, drew his crossbow and fired in the direction she fled.

Whoosh—

Thud—

A sound confirmed his hit. He approached cautiously and found the assassin lying motionless on the ground, as if paralyzed.

The poison from the sea fish couldn't have worked this quickly! Viserys thought, flipping the assassin over just as she gulped something down.

Realizing it was a poison pill, he swiftly punched her in the stomach, causing her to convulse and spit out a black, foul-smelling liquid.

Seeing her suicide attempt thwarted, she tried to bite her tongue off, but the poison had already taken effect, weakening her jaw.

Once assured she was no longer a threat, Viserys began to search her, his eyes widening in surprise.

"A female assassin!" he exclaimed.

Chapter 31: Helbo: ‘He’s Sick’

"Master, we bought 1,250 gold dragons' worth of whale oil. After distributing the amounts for the other brothers, we have a surplus of 842 gold dragons," the young accountant reported, diligently calculating the profits for Helbo. A small mountain of gold dragons shimmered in the light of the whale oil candles.

Helbo, feeling particularly generous, grabbed a handful of gold dragons from the pile and slapped it in front of the young accountant. "It's yours."

"Thank you, Master Helbo! Thank you for your generosity!" The young accountant was overwhelmed, his mind racing for words to further ingratiate himself with Helbo. He couldn't help but think proudly that if Viserys had listened to him, they would have made even more profit. More importantly, he himself would have earned more.

Because of Viserys's sudden 'defection', Helbo had only managed to take 200 pounds of whale oil instead of the 350 pounds he had originally planned. However, another candle workshop had offered an excellent price, even higher than his ideal. Helbo was in a very good mood, feeling like singing. He took a sip of wine, his eyes narrowing in pleasure.

He had already decided to cut ties with Viserys. It was said that Dany's birthday was coming up soon. He planned to send a gift but not go himself. Viserys should understand what he meant.

Just as Helbo was lost in his thoughts, a black object was thrown into his room through the window. When he looked closely, he realized it was a person!

Helbo remained calm, but the young accountant turned pale.

'Is someone after me? How dare they, with Viserys still on my side!' Helbo looked toward the window, his brain spinning with possibilities. But the next moment, a familiar figure jumped through the window. With silver hair, the identity of the person was unmistakable.

"Lord Viserys, this..."

"An assassin, sent by the King of Whores," Viserys said calmly. The "King of Whores" referred, of course, to Robert, a VVIP of the King's Landing brothel. Thanks to his recent improvement in Constitution, Viserys had been able to carry an 80 to 90-pounds man on his back and sneak into Helbo's home without making a sound. This guy had even set up two sentries near his own home.

"There's a lot of space there, and there's Dany. It's not safe to take her back, so I'll let you keep her for now."

'No, are you sick? You and your sister think it's unsafe, but I'm supposed to be fine?' Helbo thought to himself, but dared not show it. He quickly put down his wine cup, grabbed the female assassin's ankles, and, together with Viserys, carried her out.

"Go find some milk and bring it over," Viserys instructed the young accountant. Milk and other things could be used to dilute the toxins. He didn't want the assassin to die just yet. It would be best if he could make her vomit and contact Robert. This would buy him some time, at least until the end of the 10-day celebration. As long as Robert did not involve the Faceless Men‎, Viserys would be fine. However, with so many people attending the celebration, and if he participated in the sword competition, he might not be able to keep an eye on Dany.

"There is no cow milk left. Will goat's milk do?"

"Yes!"

Meanwhile, Viserys and Helbo carried the assassin to a dark room. It seemed that Helbo really yearned for the life of a noble, as it was said that nobles liked to have underground dungeons and the like. This underground room was quite authentic. Inside, there was a wooden bed with mechanisms to restrict a person's movement, and some torture devices. However, upon closer inspection, these torture devices seemed to be more for 'fun'. Threaded, convex, mace – what the hell are these!?

Viserys gave Helbo a meaningful look, causing him to blush. The two of them tied the female assassin to the bed in a "big" shape and then let out a sigh of relief. In the dim light, Viserys realized that the female assassin was actually quite good-looking. Her facial features were soft and gentle, not at all what one would expect from an assassin.

"I'll leave first. Give her some more milk later, and then starve her for a few days."

"Yes," Helbo replied indifferently.

After Viserys left, Helbo took another look at the female assassin. He found her quite attractive, but she was still Viserys's prisoner, and he didn't dare to torture her.

A few days later, when Viserys saw that his soap was almost dry, he asked Morel to arrange an introduction to Lady Falia of the Moonshadow. Morel didn't object, as he had already agreed to facilitate the meeting. However, he understood that simply arranging an introduction didn't guarantee a meeting.

To ensure things went smoothly, Morel bribed Falia's maid to mention the matter to her mistress. The maid accepted the money but made no promises, her attitude reflecting Morel's: agreeing to introduce them didn't mean they would actually meet, and taking money didn't mean the matter would be resolved.

On this particular day, Falia was hosting a gathering on her private ship. Every notable courtesan in Braavos had her own ship, where they entertained guests and conducted business. The most esteemed courtesans were protective of their reputations and would only offer their bodies in exchange for significant gifts or favors.

An unspoken rule among courtesans was that the more a courtesan did for someone, the less likely they were to give themselves fully to them, though they would occasionally offer personal tokens to keep their admirers hopeful and loyal.

Falia, as one of the top courtesans, was well aware of these principles. But today, her client seemed particularly persistent.

"Lady Moonshadow, please consider my proposal with mercy. I will never brag about it like those vain men," said the man in front of her. He had black hair, brown eyes, and a thin face, dressed in a blue shirt and purple bloomers of such fine quality that Falia had to look away to avoid appearing too interested.

The man, however, kept his gaze fixed on Falia. Her thin but well-proportioned shoulders, half-exposed breasts smoother than whale blubber, and seductive curves tapering to a slender waist all captivated him. As his eyes traveled further down, they took in the sudden fullness of her hips, which made him feel parched with desire.

"Master Daxon, thank you for your kindness, but I can still maintain the workshop for the time being," Falia replied, her voice steady.

Daxon laughed, a hint of desperation in his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Cooper has already cut the price to half of what it was last year. There's no profit to be made. I've heard that the workshop in Greenwater Town has lost many skilled workers. The candles they make are not only of poor quality, but also more expensive. Why bother going on?"

"Please, give me your heart. I would be happy to die for it, let alone that workshop," he said, his words growing more explicit as he leaned forward like a hungry jackal, poised to pounce at any moment.

Chapter 32: Entrapment

Calling out loudly for help is behavior deemed inappropriate for such a social interaction. It implies an inability to control the situation, signaling incompetence. As the young man in front of her slowly approached, Falia felt her blood rushing to her ears. Was she going to suffer a loss today?

"Ahem."

Just as the young man was licking his lips and closing in, a light cough interrupted his next move. Falia let out a sigh of relief.

"Lady Falia, our meeting time is almost over today," came the voice of Asha, Falia's maid.

The young man paused, his heart filled with resentment, but he dared not make any further moves. Causing a scene could bring trouble to his house unless the other party was willing to submit.

"Beauty is not a sin. I apologize for my rudeness. I am truly sorry. Please forgive me, Lady Falia."

Falia calmed herself and responded softly, "You are too kind. In a certain light, this is also my honor."

She breathed heavily after the young man left her cabin. These "professional courtesans" were just ordinary girls. They might be outstanding in appearance and temperament, but they lacked the means to protect themselves.

Asha entered, her dark almond-shaped eyes full of worry. "Lady Falia, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Asha, with her Dothraki blood, almond-shaped eyes, and long braids, looked wilder than the ordinary Braavos girls. Her body had more impressive curves, and if anything serious happened, she would have to stand up for her master. For instance, if the noble young man hadn't relented, Asha might have had to offer herself to appease him. Fortunately, they had escaped unscathed.

After the master and servant had calmed down, Asha tentatively said, "Lady, Morel would like to introduce you to someone. His name is Viserys Targaryen."

Despite the unsettling encounter, business had to go on. "Viserys?" Falia couldn't immediately recall Viserys' identity.

"The Beggar King."

As Falia's personal maid, Asha knew a little about the important people in Braavos and even the Free Cities. Even she knew about someone like the original Viserys.

"What does he want with me?"

After the maid's reminder, Falia remembered who the Beggar King was. But she couldn't understand why Viserys was seeking her out. She didn't have an army, and although she had a few swordsmen, they were merely her bodyguards.

"He said he wanted to talk to you about a good business opportunity."

'I thought he was going to ask for something else,' Falia thought to herself. It seemed the Beggar King wasn't aiming to restore his kingdom but to amass a fortune first.

She was wary of getting entangled with the descendants of a fallen kingdom. Viserys was constantly under threat of assassination, and any association with him could make her a target, especially if Robert suspected she and Viserys shared some untold secret. Falia preferred to avoid the so-called "good business."

Just as she was about to refuse outright, she reconsidered. Such a direct refusal might not be appropriate, especially since Viserys had met the Sealord. No matter her status, it couldn't surpass that of the Sealord.

Falia thought for a moment and said, "Just say that I'm not feeling well and it's inconvenient. If there's anything important, Ranche can handle it."

Ranche was Falia's housekeeper and manager.

"Understood," Asha replied and left the cabin, leaving Falia alone.

Reflecting on her situation, Falia realized she might have fallen into a conspiracy. The winner of the 10-day celebration beauty pageant would not only gain a title and a reward but also have the chance to elevate their status. They would get the opportunity to enter the high walls of Braavos's three great houses, potentially merging their lives and bloodlines with them.

Even if they failed to achieve this ultimate goal, as winners of the triennial beauty pageant, they would become a symbol of Braavos, the "bastard daughter of Valyria." They might even enter diplomatic circles, gaining influence far beyond their current reach.

This was the dream of every socialite. But to become the champion, or even to participate in the beauty pageant, there was a stringent prerequisite—virginity. Braavos might be Valyria's bastard daughter, but it wasn't Valyria's little whore. The requirements for participation were exceedingly strict.

But now Falia faced another pressing problem. If she couldn't keep Morel's workshop running, she might fall behind in promotion by the time the 10-Day Festival arrived. If her workshop turned into a theater, it would be a serious blow to her reputation as Moonshadow.

She was in a dilemma. If she committed to the young man, she might lose her chance to participate in the beauty contest. On the other hand, her life would be in his hands.

Even if she managed to enter the competition by other means, she would be vulnerable to his future demands, which she might be reluctant to accept. On the other hand, if she chose to remain chaste, she would be at a great disadvantage and likely to lose. According to an unwritten rule, once a courtesan wins a competition, she tends to ruthlessly suppress her former rivals.

The best Falia could hope for in such a scenario would be to escape Braavos. However, for a maiden of sixteen or seventeen, leaving Braavos meant becoming vulnerable and losing all her influence and security.

She suddenly empathized with the situation of Viserys and his sister. She now had two formidable opponents: the "Poetess" and the "Nightingale." The Nightingale had already announced plans to build a new theater in Greenwater Town, making it clear who was behind her predicament.

'We must save the workshop,' Falia resolved. She decided to instruct Ranche to contact Morel again to assess the workshop's situation. If it was truly dire, she would have to intervene to save it.

Despite the seemingly luxurious lifestyle of a courtesan, maintaining such a life required considerable expenses. Maids, servants, and numerous relatives depended on her for their livelihood. Falia might even have to consider selling some of her property or jewelry to keep the workshop running.

However, she had no idea how badly was Morel's workshop was losing money.

Chapter 33: Damn, It’s a Scam

Brother Viserys was in a good mood today and personally cooked a dish of shredded chicken for Dany. Since moving, Dany had rarely tasted Viserys' cooking. The reason was that Morel had told him that Falia had agreed to meet with him at the Moon Pool Theater near Purple Harbor.

The siblings ate heartily, their fingers gleaming with oil, which made the maid on the side jealous. At the same time, she felt a bit ashamed that her cooking wasn't as good as her employer's.

After they had finished eating, the maid brought a basin of water for washing their hands. Dany was about to wash her hands when Viserys stopped her.

"Wait a minute."

Dany watched as Viserys mysteriously took out a round object. It was oval-shaped and more like a goose egg, with a light purple color. When she took it from Viserys' hands, she found it to be delicate and smooth, with a faint scent of gardenia.

"Wet it and rub it like this."

Following Viserys' demonstration, Dany became the first person in the world to wash her hands with modern soap.

"How was it? Was it clean enough?"

Dany looked at her hands in a daze and found that there was indeed no oil residue. In the past, even if she washed her hands with water for a long time, they would still be sticky after a while. But after washing them with this thing, not only did her hands not stick, but they also had a faint fragrance. The maid next to her also stared at the bubbles in the water with curiosity.

"This thing is called..."

'Damn, there's no word I know for soap in Valyrian.'

Viserys paused for a moment, then told her that it was soap. Dany remembered that day when Viserys excitedly told her, "We're going to have dragon eggs." But what did this have to do with dragon eggs?

"Brother, are you going to sell this?"

"Yes, and no."

Dany's face showed confusion.

"Ha, you don't need to worry about it. Just wait for my good news."

After dinner, Viserys took a carriage directly to the nearby port and then boarded a boat to Purple Harbor. As he approached Purple Harbor, he could see the distant purple beach, resembling fields of lavender growing by the sea. In reality, it wasn't lavender but crushed snail shells drying in the sun.

When the first refugees discovered Braavos, they quickly took advantage of its specialty, a purple snail. Braavos was developed by the pigment trade, and Viserys's soap was made with this pigment.

Soon, he arrived at the Moon Pool Theater. As he disembarked, he noticed the distant Sealord's Palace. When Viserys first arrived in Braavos, he was received by the Sealord, who even became his witness not long after. However, now he no longer had the qualifications to meet with the Sealord.

He thought, 'As long as this soap business succeeds, I can start acquiring dragon eggs.' In the original story, Dany hatched three eggs, obtaining three dragons. It was these three dragons that earned her the title "Mother of Dragons." Now there are more than four years until the so-called "Bleeding Star." If I can collect eight or ten eggs, Dany can hatch them and raise them. Then, in a few years, when the dragons are grown, I will return to Westeros and get revenge on those rebels!

Viserys thought excitedly, already envisioning himself riding a dragon through the sky. 'I haven't ridden a dragon before, If I haven't ridden a dragon even after I transmigrated, then I would have wasted my time!' he mused.

Before he knew it, he had arrived at the Moon Pool Theater. As the saying goes, the Purple Harbor area is full of powerful people, and many wore black or white clothing. Not long after Viserys got off the carriage, a servant in reddish-brown shorts and a yellow vest ran up to him.

"Is it Lord Viserys? Lady Falia is waiting for you. Please follow me."

They walked on a smooth stone slab road and stepped onto a soft carpet. The servant led Viserys to the door of a box.

"Lady Falia is waiting for you inside," said the servant, opening the purple lacquered door for him.

Viserys felt a mix of excitement and curiosity, eager to see what the famous Moonshadow Falia looked like. In his opinion, these courtesans were somewhat like the courtesans of ancient times in his world. Many protagonists in novels had collections of courtesans, and he wondered if he might have the opportunity as well.

Calming his emotions, Viserys entered the room.

However, what he saw was a young man in his late twenties with jet-black, slightly curly hair, meticulously combed. His azure velvet shirt was perfectly ironed. The man exuded a smart and capable aura, with his entire body appearing almost mannequin-like in its definition.

'Huh? I thought I was meeting Lady Falia?' Viserys thought he had gone the wrong way and looked at the waiter with a questioning glance, silently asking how he could have led him so astray.

Before the waiter could respond, the man with black hair spoke up, "Lord Viserys."

Viserys hesitated but then understood. He softened his expression, walked back into the room, and sat down in front of the young man.

"I am here to meet you in place of Lady Falia. You can say what you want to say now," the young man said calmly.

Viserys glanced out the window. He knew when to lose his temper and when to hold it in. He needed Falia's name to enter the competition at the Ten-day Celebration and win the dragon egg.

He also needed her help to sell the soap. Since he was asking for something, he would hold back for a while and wait until the other party realized the value of what he had before he put on airs.

However, he couldn't be too low-key.

Viserys took out three egg-shaped soaps from his bag: one white, one blue, and one purple. The young man looked at the objects with wide eyes, clearly intrigued.

"First of all, I want to say that I don't need money, and secondly, I'm the only one who can make these things. The raw materials for these come from whale oil and can save Morel's workshop," Viserys explained.

He then picked up a pastry from the table that was covered in grease and squeezed it, getting his hands covered in oil. Although the young man didn't know what he was going to do, he maintained a calm demeanor.

Viserys picked up one of the soaps and wet his hands with the teapot next to him. As he rubbed his hands together, a lot of white foam appeared. After rinsing his hands, Viserys got up and showed his clean hands to the young man.

"I hope the price of this soap is twenty silver moons. You can take it back to show it to Lady Moonshadow," Viserys said.

He then walked to the door of the room. "If Lady Moonshadow doesn't mind, I'd like to see Lady Nightingale and Lady Poetess as well, so I hope you can give me an answer soon."

With that, he closed the door and left. He still had to see how the female assassin was doing today. The woman held the secret of the Skinchangers.

Chapter 34: Bet

"Dammit! It was a fraud!" Viserys muttered angrily as he left the theater, but he quickly regained his composure.

He believed that Falia knew what she was doing. Once she used the soap, it would become a necessity in her life. Viserys felt a tinge of pride, convinced that she would fall in love with the soap after trying it.

Currently, the cost of producing a piece of soap was only one or two Braavos iron coins. If he sold it for twenty silver moons, his profit margin would be an astonishing 7,000 percent!

Suddenly, a chill ran down Viserys' neck as he thought of something.

Initially, the soap would be marketed to the "upper class," the nobles. These wealthy individuals consumed rich foods daily, which would lead to oily skin. However, his soap was strong enough to dry out their faces after just one use. The more they used it, the oilier their faces would become, prompting them to buy more. It would create a 'virtuous cycle'.

Viserys didn't plan to exploit the poor. When the soap became more popular, it would eventually benefit the lower class as well. His mood lifted at the thought.

It had been five or six days since Viserys had subdued the female assassin. Feeling that the time was right, he decided to check on her.

By this time, Helbo had heard about Viserys' meeting with Falia. Initially surprised, he was also somewhat relieved. It seemed that the Morel and Falia were close allies. Fortunately, he had not pushed his plan too far.

When Helbo learned that Viserys had gone to the Moon Pool Theater, he chuckled to himself. After all his years in Braavos, he knew the rules for courtesans meeting in private—they never left their ships, only coming ashore for public events. In his opinion, Falia would likely not appreciate Viserys' "good intentions."

That was fine by Helbo. Once the reckless young man had calmed down, he would be easier to manipulate. 'Imagine that, controlling a Prince, a nobleman!' Helbo couldn't help but fantasize.

Just then, a servant announced that Viserys was visiting. Helbo hurried over to greet him, partly out of curiosity and partly hoping that Viserys would be taken away by Falia. Living under the same roof as an assassin every day was unnerving...

...

The assassin, who had not eaten for five or six days, had visibly sunken cheeks. To make it easier to feed her, Helbo had put a small device in her mouth.

Viserys immediately recognized the device, and after a moment he realized what it was. "Where did you get the gag?" he asked.

"Gag? What a great name!" Helbo looked at Viserys, somewhat surprised, as if he had met a kindred spirit.

The female assassin had no idea what they were talking about; she just hoped to be released as soon as possible. She saw her target take the candle from the slightly overweight man and hold it up to her face. Confirming the look, it was indeed the person she was supposed to kill. But now she couldn't even kill herself, let alone someone else.

Over the past few days, she had seen the 'torture instruments' around her and realized they would be used on her sooner or later. However, to her surprise, the young man did not act as she expected. Instead, he fed her some sweet soup.

'Ah! It's so sweet,' the assassin sighed in her heart. At the same time, she discovered that her body seemed to be regaining some feeling. For a moment, it felt as if her brain, covered with rusty gears, had been lubricated and her thoughts began to turn again. "What does he want?" she wondered.

The young man in front of her slowly said, "We are all pitiful people."

The female assassin didn't expect him to say that. Although she couldn't speak, she thought to herself, 'Pitiful? You were born a prince, and even in a foreign land, you would still be taken care of. You are pitiful? Then everyone is pitiful.'

Viserys continued, "Do you think I'm talking nonsense? In fact, I've seen everything about you." He began to recount the story he had seen in his dream: "The ship you were on encountered a storm in the Narrow Sea. You were alone at sea for more than ten days, surviving only on fish and shrimp."

Helbo raised his eyebrows, thinking to himself that this assassin was no ordinary person, being able to survive at sea for more than ten days. But he wondered why Viserys knew so much.

"Since I arrived in Braavos at the age of eight, Robert has sent at least seven or eight assassins to kill me every year, but I have survived them all. Do you know why? Or don't you think it's amazing that I was only eight years old at the time, with a baby sister in my arms, and yet I was able to survive Robert's assassins time and time again?"

Neither the female assassin nor Helbo believed Viserys's story.

However, Helbo knew that the Viserys siblings had indeed wandered alone for several years, and it was not easy to survive so many assassination attempts. The female assassin thought Viserys was just showing off, but the question still lingered in her mind: How did he know she had been shipwrecked? How did he know so much about her?

Viserys then gave a very mystical answer. He leaned his face close to the female assassin, and the two could almost feel each other's breath. "Because the gods are warning me," he said.

The female assassin narrowed her eyes, obviously not believing him.

"We can make a bet. I'll let you go today, and you can go anywhere you want to start preparing again. But the result will still be failure. For ten days, if you lose, you'll have to follow me. What do you say? Are you in or out?"

Viserys's voice had a certain seductive power, like the whisper of a devil. This offer left Helbo beside him dumbfounded.

'No, you're seriously ill. How could you dare to let go of the assassin who tried to kill you? What's the point?' he thought.

The female assassin didn't hesitate for a second, staring at Viserys with eyes that seemed to be challenging him. Viserys removed her gag and freed her limbs, smiling as he said, "You're free."

When he actually let her go, the female assassin's face showed disbelief. Helbo, who was behind Viserys, leaned against the corner of the wall in case she tried to make a move. She walked slowly towards the door, looking back at Viserys hesitantly.

"I let you leave, but on one condition: you tried to kill me. But not only did I not kill you, I also saved you. So you owe me two lives, I don't need you to repay them. You just can't hurt Dany."

Viserys stared into her eyes and said in a firm voice. This seemed risky, but in fact, the risk was not that high. Since his Dragon Dreams had advanced to the Proficient level, he could predict danger even earlier. He could also use Dragon Dreams to locate her.

'How can I lose you with a mystical map?' he thought.

If he could subdue this assassin, not only would he be able to participate in the celebration without any worries two months later, but most importantly, he would be able to get the "Skinchanger" secrets from her.

This may allow him to control multiple dragons at the same time after they hatched, preventing the "dragon sons" from becoming rebellious.

"I swear by the gods that I will not harm your sister before I kill you," the female assassin said in common tongue. This was the first thing she had said since she was captured.

As he watched the female assassin leave, Helbo realized that the person standing in front of him was not an ordinary fool. He was a complete lunatic!

He suddenly remembered a rumor about the Targaryens: Targaryen, they are either mad or great.

Chapter 35: Falia’s Boat

When Viserys finished his meeting with the assassin, it had already grown dark.

As he made his way home, the stars had appeared in the sky. Upon arriving, he noticed an unfamiliar carriage parked in front of his house. The carriage was adorned with a faint moon emblem, indicating it was a private and exquisite vehicle. The grand nature of the visit suggested it wasn't malicious.

Two figures stood next to the carriage: one was the maid Viserys had hired, and the other seemed familiar. Before he could take two steps, the familiar figure approached him—it was Ranche, the young man he had met at the Moon Pool Theater. This time, Ranche's expression was noticeably friendlier and warmer, likely due to Viserys' meeting with Falia, the Moonshadow.

Ranche walked forward, bowed slightly to Viserys, and said, "Prince Viserys, Lady Moonshadow has asked to meet you and hopes to speak with you."

This time, Ranche was exceedingly courteous, trying to satisfy Viserys. The reason was that Falia already knew about the dire situation at the Morel workshop. It was beyond saving, even with an infusion of 10,000 gold dragons. She had placed all her hopes on Viserys, having recognized the value of his soap immediately. Viserys was her last straw.

Viserys sensed the change in attitude and understood the urgency. Lady Moonshadow's immediate request for a meeting indicated the importance of the soap to her. He wanted to leverage this to gain more influence in their dealings. If the soap wasn't crucial, she wouldn't have sought him out so urgently, even at night.

"If it's about the soap, please leave. I already have a better partner to work with," Viserys said, trying to test her resolve and willingness to negotiate.

Viserys knew that her interest in the soap was a significant opportunity. He wanted to see how desperate she was. He had a backup plan—if things didn't work out, he could sell the formula to the Iron Bank and secure some money. However, he hoped it wouldn't come to that; after all, who would kill a hen that lays golden eggs?

Fortunately, Viserys's gamble paid off. As soon as he crossed the threshold of his house, he could already sense the urgency in Ranche's demeanor.

"Lord Viserys," Ranche hurriedly stood in front of him, "You said you had a new partner, but why don't you come with me to see what Lady Moonshadow can offer?"

Ranche's intuition told him that Viserys was bluffing, but he didn't dare to gamble. The Morel workshop was too important to Falia, and he knew what losing it would mean for her.

"Then let's hurry up," Viserys replied.

"Okay! Please get in the carriage," Ranche responded.

The carriage was filled with a faint aroma, and the seats were adorned with soft velvet pillows, almost like a sofa. As Viserys settled in, he couldn't help but appreciate the comfort, indicating that Falia usually rode in this carriage herself.

After about ten minutes, they arrived at a dock. Viserys thought he would have to disembark and transfer, but to his surprise, Ranche drove the carriage directly onto a boat. Once they arrived at the next port, Ranche simply drove off the boat and continued on their way.

'So extravagant!' Viserys thought, realizing that he didn't even have a personal carriage. He sighed at the opulence.

After another half hour or so, they reached a small lake. Several boats floated on the lake, resembling junk boats but decorated in a style unique to this world. Lanterns hung from the boats, making them easy to spot in the dark.

"Lord Viserys, we've arrived," Ranche announced.

Viserys got off the carriage and took in the serene night. The crescent moon above looked like a small boat hanging in a black velvet sky, dotted with a few stars. Not seeing the familiar Big Dipper, Viserys was reminded that he was no longer in his original world. A moment of sadness washed over him, realizing he might never return. He quickly gathered himself and followed Ranche to the lake, where a small barge awaited.

The boatman turned out to be a robust woman. As Viserys and Ranche boarded the boat, ripples spread out from the bottom, distorting the reflection of the crescent moon as they slowly sailed towards one of the boats.

Halfway through the journey, a figure emerged from the boat they were approaching. She was less than 1.6 meters tall but had an explosive figure. Even in the dim light, her silhouette was captivating.

When they reached the side of the boat, Ranche made a gesture of invitation, indicating he would not be joining them. Viserys then saw the true face of the figure. She had spirited almond-shaped eyes and well-defined features. Her figure was undoubtedly an asset.

However, Viserys knew from her attire that she was not Falia. Still, he said, "This is Lady Moonshadow. It is an honor to meet you."

The maid was momentarily stunned but quickly responded, "Lady Moonshadow's maid. She is waiting for you inside."

"Sorry, my mistake," Viserys replied.

At this moment, Asha clearly saw Viserys's appearance under the moonlight and couldn't help but feel a good impression. To Asha, such handsome boys were not common. Coupled with the amusing misunderstanding earlier, her heart softened.

However, when she noticed Ranche's gesture on the boat, her expression grew more serious. Viserys, unaware of this, was preoccupied with what to say during the meeting. His earlier behavior was strategic, based on the saying, "It's easier to face the known danger than to deal with the unseen threat." If he could get along with Falia's associates, it would make future dealings with her much smoother.

Asha lifted the curtain for Viserys, and as soon as he entered, he was greeted by a scent similar to that in the carriage. He passed through a small door and found himself in what looked like a "small living room." In front of him was a table with a few exquisite chairs on either side.

A woman wearing a moon-white cloak sat behind the table, her veil concealing her face. She looked towards the door as he entered. At that moment, three crisp bells rang outside the boat, and Falia's eyes flickered twice—once for the silver bells outside and once for Viserys's appearance.

However, Viserys now felt slightly irritated. This woman was blocking his view entirely. Her figure was hidden by the cloak, and her face was covered by a veil. How ridiculous!

But he reminded himself that the purpose of today's meeting was to discuss business and cooperation. If she didn't want to show her face, it wasn't necessary.

Falia made a gesture of invitation, indicating that he should take a seat. Viserys sat down with ease and said, "I don't know what cooperation plan Lady Falia has, so please, tell me directly."

Chapter 36: Alas~

Falia, behind her veil, gently raised the corner of her mouth and placed the soap that Ranche had brought back on a plate. She said, "Ranche told me that Prince Viserys is prepared to sell this for 20 silver moons. I think the prince may not understand the true value of this soap in Braavos. I believe it can be sold for three gold dragons, or even five gold dragons initially."

Falia's offer was far higher than Viserys's expectations. He had thought that selling the soap at 20 silver moons was already a great deal. Before moving into the rich district, the water vendor who lived near him had to work hard for two days to earn one silver moon. Twenty silver moons was almost a month's income for him. One gold dragon could be exchanged for about 30 silver moons. Falia's suggestion of three to five gold dragons raised the price by four or five times and hinted at a high demand.

Viserys, trying not to show his shock, responded calmly, "Well, the ingredients for making soap are actually not expensive. Most of the materials needed are similar to those for whale oil candles. It's mainly the production process that is complicated and difficult." He subtly emphasized his point, glossing over the issue of underpricing.

Falia nodded slightly, understanding that the young man before her was strengthening his bargaining chip. It was her turn to make an offer.

"If the Prince is willing to cooperate, I think I can sell the soap for five gold dragons. However, if we want to reach more people, we may have to lower the price eventually. As for the distribution of profits, what are Prince's requirements?"

Viserys thought for a moment and said, "Let's split it 20/80."

Falia was visibly taken aback. "You only want 20%? I think..."

"No, I get 80%."

The atmosphere became tense. Viserys maintained a smile, feeling like a Dragonlord returning in an urban novel, though he was simply raising the stakes in their negotiation. Although he had the formula, he wasn't planning to involve himself in the workshop or the publicity. His aim was to secure around 50%.

Falia was indeed a top-notch courtesan. First, she poured a cup of tea for Viserys, and then said, "I have some friends among the Moonsingers. They are all capable and wealthy businessmen. To maintain these friendships requires some thought."

Falia implied that selling soap would require paying off the right people, and the costs would not just be raw materials and labor. While talking about the Moonsingers, she unobtrusively removed her veil.

'Holy shit, Angelina or... Khristina!?' Viserys was amazed, realizing that she was a combination of two actresses from his past life. The former was a Russian model, and the latter was known as the Rose of France. She was a courtesan, and she was very good at it!

Falia's realistic questions and her appearance became powerful arguments to convince Viserys. Although Viserys tried his best to restrain himself, he was discovered. There was nothing he could do; she was a professional. Viserys nodded in agreement.

"Besides, if we want to maximize the profits from the soap, we have to work harder. But don't worry, Prince, I will hold more banquets to let more people see the benefits of the soap as soon as possible."

Falia took a sip of tea and frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Prince Viserys, the tea may be a little cold."

"It's fine," said Viserys.

At that moment, a cool breeze blew in, making the warmth in the cabin even less. "Hmm, it's cold." Falia wrapped her cloak around her body, revealing a thrilling curve that made Viserys's heart race.

"Oh, wow," Viserys let out a soft sigh.

"Hmm? Are you not feeling well, Prince?" Falia asked. In fact, she did it on purpose.

"No, I mean the tea tastes good," Viserys covered up awkwardly.

Falia smiled lightly and didn't expose it. But this smile seemed as if it had been carved countless times in front of a mirror. Every expression was just right, making people's hearts sway.

At this time, Falia said, "I heard that Prince Viserys has a younger sister named Dany?"

Suddenly, Viserys, who had been full of springtime, suddenly became cold. It was as if he had awakened the sleeping dragon in his body. His eyes looked at Falia with murderous intent, making her shiver.

"Oh?"

Just a simple change in tone made the air around him chillier. Falia didn't know why the young man in front of her had changed so drastically. She remembered what Ranche had told her about Viserys's 'notorious reputation,' and her heart was in her throat. Forcing herself to remain calm, she took out a box from her side.

"I, I heard that Princess Dany was born in a storm, and the season with the most storms in the Narrow Sea seems to be August and September, but I don't know exactly when Princess Dany was born." She swallowed and gently opened the box in front of her, revealing a delicate necklace. "I don't know if Dany's birthday has passed, so if it hasn't, I'll give this to her as a birthday gift..."

The necklace had seven precious stones inlaid on it, the middle one a deep purple and the six surrounding it a vivid green. It was obviously very valuable. Falia looked at Viserys carefully, hardly daring to breathe.

Viserys couldn't be blamed for overreacting. The so-called big shot who coveted Dany had not yet shown his face. If he was trying to use Falia to make contact, then she would turn the tables on him.

Once he realized Falia's true intentions were innocent, he calmed down. He was impressed that she had deduced Dany's birthday from some rumors. His attitude softened, and he accepted the necklace on behalf of his little sister.

Finally, the two sides reached an agreement. For every bar of soap sold, Viserys would take half the profits, but he would give five percent to Falia for her work in marketing the dragon eggs. After all, dragon eggs were a rare commodity. In addition to the money needed to buy them, a lot of money was needed to gather information and make connections. In other words, Viserys would take half the profits, and Morel's workshop and Falia would split the remaining half.

Considering that the soap would initially be a "high-end" product, the first batch would only be 300 to 500 pieces. The second batch would be 1,000 to 1,500 pieces. By the time of the 10-day celebration, 3,000 pieces would be released. They agreed to change the name of the soap to "Shadow of the Moon." The soap is the moon, and the foam is its shadow.

After returning, Viserys sent all of his first batch of experimental products to Falia for her to handle. The two also agreed that Viserys would participate in the festival as her poet two months later. In this way, the dragon egg would be taken care of.

Meanwhile, when Helbo found out that Viserys had really met Falia and reached a cooperation agreement, he was so regretful that he almost turned blue. "Oh, yes, Lady Dany, it seems that her birthday is coming up soon. I have to prepare something nice."

He opened the secret compartment in his home and took out a handful of gold coins. He thought it wasn't enough and grabbed a few more handfuls. Ignoring the now noticeable dent in his pile, he immediately went outside to look for a gift.

Chapter 37: Iron Bank

Just as Helbo was hurrying to meet Viserys, he found that Viserys was not at home. What made him even more upset was that none of the maids hired by Viserys would let him in the door. From afar, he could only see Dany practicing swordsmanship on the grass. He wanted to ask Dany where Viserys had gone, but she only waved at him from a distance.

'I'm such a fool!' Helbo cursed himself, realizing that Viserys seemed to be deliberately distancing himself. For more than ten years, Helbo had not achieved his goal of owning a proper business, and he subconsciously thought that Viserys, the "Beggar King," would not be able to achieve this goal so easily. In his opinion, Viserys was only good at fighting and not necessarily talented in business.

But now, it seemed he had completely misjudged. Meeting Moonshadow meant that Viserys's "attempt" had won recognition. With Falia's guarantee, Viserys was able to do in a few months what Helbo had been unable to do in a decade. If Viserys had his own business, he would no longer be in the same class as Helbo. Realizing that Viserys might be an opportunity for him to move up in the world, Helbo went straight to the workshop. After all, Viserys's laboratory was there.

What Helbo didn't know was that the reason he couldn't get in was because Viserys had seen his "torture device." After Helbo left that day, Viserys instructed his maids not to let Helbo in if he wasn't home and not to let him near Dany. He also told Dany to greet Helbo from afar and not to talk to him.

Meanwhile, Viserys, accompanied by Morel, was about to arrive at the famous Iron Bank. As anyone who has watched Game of Thrones knows, the Iron Bank is famous. Littlefinger became Master of Coin because he borrowed money from the Iron Bank, making it seem as if he could conjure up money with his two fingers. In reality, the interest on these loans was passed on to the common people of Westeros. Later, Westeros was in chaos, and Stannis Baratheon borrowed money from the Iron Bank, as did Jon Snow.

Even further back in time, during the Targaryen era, there were kings who wanted to deposit money in the Iron Bank to earn interest. This shows how powerful it is. Of course, the Iron Bank can't just only have money bags; otherwise, it would just become a target for others.

It also has 'weapons,' and if anyone dares to default, it will support their opponent with money or support the rebels. When the rebels or the defaulting opponent come to power, they have to take over the mess left behind by their predecessors.

The Iron Bank got its name because its founder initially stored his money in an abandoned iron mine. But the Iron Bank, which has long since become "big and strong," has moved its headquarters away from the mine. The current headquarters of the Iron Bank is more like a heavily fortified fortress.

"Prince, the Iron Bank is just ahead," Morel said with a newfound respect in his voice. Ever since Viserys had met with Falia and struck a deal, Morel's admiration for him had grown. He had witnessed the magic of soap firsthand and knew his workshop was saved because of it.

At Morel's prompting, Viserys stuck his head out of the carriage. In the distance, he saw the tall, heavy walls of the Iron Bank, with guards patrolling back and forth. The guards were well-armed and well-built, clearly well-trained and well-fed.

The road was lined with barricades. An Iron Bank guard stopped their carriage for inspection. The guard wore a black cloak adorned with white dots, the symbol for 'money'. After checking their identities, their carriage passed through three more gates.

Beyond these gates, the two men were asked to disembark and continue on foot.

"Prince, this is where the Iron Bank conducts its business," Morel said, gesturing toward the building.

Viserys nodded. In front of him stood a tall, imposing structure that looked like a combination of a temple and a courthouse. Above the entrance was a statue of a woman with arms that transformed into wings.

As they walked a few steps further, Viserys noticed something underfoot. He looked down and saw a line of relief text written in the common tongue, Dothraki, and Valyrian: "The Iron Bank will have its due".

Suddenly, Viserys felt the gravity of the game of thrones 'scratch' up. Every faction with a name has a slogan that belongs to them.

"Fire and Blood!""A Lannister always pays his debts.""Family, Duty, Honor.""Growing Strong."And House Stark's "Winter Is Coming!"

The two continued walking and entered the hall of the building. As soon as they stepped inside, Viserys felt at least three pairs of eyes on him. They weren't malicious, just observing.

The hall was quiet, with only the sound of shuffling feet and the rustling of pens on paper.

At that moment, an Iron Bank employee with a long beard and wearing a brown uniform approached the two men.

"Lord, do you need to borrow, deposit, or withdraw money?"

"Get a card."

"Huh?"

The soul of the transmigrator couldn't resist a little joke before answering seriously, "Withdraw money."

"Okay, please follow me."

The employee took out a key from his breast pocket and led Viserys into a small room, leaving Morel waiting outside. The employee asked Viserys to take a seat and then sat across from him.

"What is your name?"

"Viserys Targaryen."

The employee bowed his head and wrote something down, then asked a few more questions, appearing extremely serious. Viserys suddenly remembered that the original Viserys had also come to the Iron Bank to borrow money, but was rejected. The reason, of course, was that they did not believe Viserys could restore the realm.

Although they did not have the technology to collect big data and check the flow of money like modern banks, they also had their own set of audit plans.

"To confirm, you want to withdraw money?"

"That's right."

"What is your account number?"

Viserys told him the account number left by Illyrio.

"The account password, please?"

"Fire and Blood."

When Viserys said the correct password, the employee's serious expression melted away and immediately became friendly.

"You have 7,000 gold dragons in your account. How much would you like to withdraw?"

"5,000."

"Do you need an escort?"

"No... Uh, how much does an escort cost?"

The employee smiled and said, "We have five levels of escort service..."

"Okay, which one do you recommend?"

After learning about some of the Iron Bank's services, Viserys paid 100 gold dragons and chose a "covert protection" package. With the money, they left the Iron Bank.

They had not gone far when the service proved its worth. The person being restrained by the Iron Bank guards looked familiar. It was Helbo!

Chapter 38: Dany’s Birthday

During this time, Viserys could sense Helbo's gradually cold attitude. However, he didn't care. Viserys believed that he could offer something so enticing that Helbo would be compelled to show his loyalty.

"This is an acquaintance. Let him come up," Viserys said, and the plainclothes guards of the Iron Bank released Helbo.

Helbo stretched his joints a bit and got into the carriage with a smirk.

"Goddman Helbo, what a surprise to meet you here!" Viserys teased.

"I heard that Lady Dany's birthday is coming up soon, so I wanted to ask where it will be held," Helbo replied. His excuse was pretty lame, but Viserys didn't call him out on it. In his previous life, he had heard a saying that some people have birthdays because they want to have them, and some people have birthdays because others need them to have them.

Curious, Viserys asked, "Where did you hear about Dany's birthday?"

Helbo's answer impressed Viserys. Ser Darry, who had fled with the siblings, had lived with them in the House with the Red Door. After Ser Darry's death, the servants in the House began to divide up his possessions.

When Helbo and Viserys were still working together, Helbo had secretly found those people. Although he did not recover any goods, he was able to ask about the siblings' birthdays. He had originally planned to part ways with Viserys, but now he realized that he could use this information.

"Dany has suffered with me for many years, but there's no need to make a big deal of it. Let's just celebrate at my place," Viserys said.

Hearing this, Helbo's heart finally settled. "Us"! Listen to that, it's a comforting word. At this point, Helbo didn't have any more extravagant wishes. He thought Viserys had fallen into Falia's clutches and was just one step away from being completely influenced by her.

To his surprise, Viserys handed him a white, shelled egg.

"What is this...?" Helbo asked.

"Moonshadow. This is the product of my collaboration with Lady Moonshadow. How much do you think this will sell for?" Viserys replied.

Helbo held the soap in his hand and felt it. It was smooth and slippery. But after touching it, there was no residue on his hands, and it felt fresh and clean. He sniffed it under his nose and noticed a faint aroma.

'This thing must be made from whale oil, right? It shouldn't be too expensive,' Helbo thought to himself. He quoted a price he thought was relatively high. "Five, five or six silver moons?"

Viserys smiled and said, "Higher."

"A dozen?"

"Higher!"

"Twenty or so."

"Gods!" Morel, who had been watching Helbo's face, saw his expression gradually change to one of disbelief.

"Helbo, one Moonshadow sells for five gold dragons. This is the lowest price."

Hearing that it was five gold dragons, Helbo nearly dropped the soap. 'Five gold dragons!'

Helbo was already regretting his earlier decision. If he could confront his past self who sold the whale oil, he would have beaten him black and blue.

Seeing Helbo's reaction, Viserys decided it was time to make his offer. "I have decided to give you two percent of the share as a reward for taking charge of the workshop's safety. What do you think?"

"Two percent?"

"Yes, Master Morel will guarantee our transaction."

Helbo was stunned. 'I've suddenly become a member of the bourgeoisie? I've done what even Banergar couldn't do!'

Helbo felt dizzy. Looking at the rapidly receding scenery outside the carriage, everything felt surreal.

The main reason Viserys was willing to let Helbo participate was to avoid wasting too much energy on managing the business. Strengthening his power, finding a way to obtain the "Skinchanger Technique," practicing the Skinchanger Technique, and collecting dragon eggs were all very energy-intensive tasks.

Spending some money to keep the soap business running smoothly was more important than anything else. His own energy and time were his most precious resources.

...

Soon, the first batch of soap flowed into the market. Falia truly had a head for business.

After receiving the first batch of soap from Viserys, she immediately offered fifty pieces to the Temple of the Moonsingers. Given that Falia was called Moonshadow and the soap was named Moonshadow, it struck a chord with the temple leader.

Falia was promptly given the title of "Pure," becoming known as "Pure Falia." This newfound title immediately boosted her reputation, attracting more guests to her establishment. Consequently, the price of a bar of soap skyrocketed to more than ten, sometimes even twenty, gold dragons.

Naturally, this kind of success attracted envy. However, the current profits from the limited display of soaps were not enough to tempt the major players. This was a result of Viserys's deliberate control of production, ensuring that soap remained a luxury item.

Viserys knew that if he flooded the market with soap, selling each bar for ten or even dozens of silver moons across the Free Cities, the powerful factions lurking in the shadows would pounce, tearing his business apart like sharks smelling blood.

In the end, he was still too weak. Constantly on edge, it felt as if he was walking on thin ice, never knowing if he would make it to the other side.

...

In the theater, a young man held a bar of soap and asked, "Which workshop made this?"

"We're still investigating, Lord Andersen," the clerk replied.

"Still investigating? No need to investigate anymore." Andersen casually placed the soap on the table.

Recently, Morel had become unusually stubborn, refusing to sell the workshop. Not only that, but they had the funds to buy new raw materials. Andersen guessed that the Morel candle workshop was the source of the soap. Additionally, with the workshop being associated with Falia, and the soap named "Moon Shadow" while she was called "Moonshadow," the connection was clear as day.

"Find out who made this. I'll offer him a satisfactory price," Andersen commanded.

Andersen hailed from House Fregar, one of the three great families of Braavos. To him, money was just a number. As long as he could topple Falia and ensure that the courtesan on his side won the beauty pageant, it would be worth it.

Meanwhile, Viserys was unaware of these developments. The deadline he had set with the female assassin was approaching. If he could subdue her, he would gain the art of the skinchangers. If he could control birds of prey like falcons, it would greatly benefit his future career as a sellsword. With no battlefield fog and one-sided transparent information, any well-educated general could dominate!

"It's almost time," he thought.

After using Dragon Dreams to scout, Viserys decided that tonight, he would definitely convince the assassin.

Chapter 39: Half Skinchanger

As night falls, the idle nobles who have spent the day eating and drinking begin to stir. Their evening diversions, including beautiful women and fragrant carriages, are ready for them.

Meanwhile, workers and vendors, exhausted from a day of hard labor, continue to endure the harsh realities of life. They are scattered everywhere—at the docks, on the hills, in the marketplaces, and in the workshops.

In a small, somewhat dark and damp inn, a female assassin meticulously counts her equipment. She has spent her time observing Viserys's movements and found them quite predictable. He travels back and forth between the workshop and home, avoiding banquets entirely. His daily routine consists mainly of practicing swordsmanship or teaching Dany to do the same.

This assassin admires his skill. Despite being under sixteen, Viserys's talent in swordsmanship surpasses that of many who have trained for ten or fifteen years. She acknowledges his potential to become a legendary figure like the Sword of the Morning if given time. So she decides to assassinate him at night, when he is unarmed and vulnerable in close combat, an area in which she excels.

Yet, one thing makes her uneasy: the crossbow Viserys had given her, the same weapon that had once incapacitated her. It was small, exquisite, and lethal from twenty paces—a perfect weapon for an assassin. She couldn't fathom why Viserys would arm her with such a weapon. Did he truly have that much confidence in himself?

Her unease grows when she recalls Viserys's precise recounting of her encounter at sea. 'He must not know my true abilities,' she reassures herself.

The assassin takes out a small cage containing several crickets. It was through these crickets that she had gained such detailed insights into Viserys's movements. By entering their consciousness, she had essentially planted a listening device in his home. Although crickets have poor eyesight and rely mainly on hearing, it was enough for her to track his movements.

One cricket, two crossbows, three daggers, and six arrows—this was her entire arsenal for the assassination. She leans the seven-god wreath she had woven against the wall of the table, preparing to pray before the mission. But somehow, the wreath keeps slipping off the wall.

In the end, she used the small stone from the table leg to hold the wreath in place.

This small frustration further unsettled her. Could it be that the prince of the fallen kingdom is truly protected by the gods?

"Father, Mother, Smith, Warrior..." She prayed softly, finishing her invocation within seconds. After one final equipment check, she disguised herself as an old woman and left the inn through the window. As she climbed out, the garland slipped again. She left the hostel like a fish diving into the sea of darkness.

To avoid detection, she had chosen a remote place to stay. Her first stop was the nearby pier.

"Boat? To Drowned Town, to Greenwater Town, to Silty Town!"

"Is there a boat? One more person needed!"

"To Greenwater Town! Only ten iron coins!"

"Chartered boat! Twenty iron coins!"

The boatmen at the pier were shouting like taxi drivers at a train station. The female assassin noticed a skinny old boatman with white hair. His boat was small and seemed barely able to carry many people. It was also unstable, which suited her needs perfectly. She wanted to travel alone to minimize the risk of exposure.

After agreeing on the price, they set off. When they reached a quiet stretch of water, the old boatman suddenly spoke:

"Hey, where are you going?" His voice was hoarse and unnatural.

"To Bitterwell Town."

"What town?"

"Bitterwell Town!"

"Bitter what?"

"Bitterwell Town!"

"What town?"

"Bitter..." The female assassin's eyes grew cautious as she realized something was wrong. The old boatman was looking at her with a mocking expression. For a moment, she felt as if she were ensnared by a large net, her skin tingling with alarm.

"Where are you going, little sister? I, Viserys, will definitely send you there!" She was suddenly startled. It was Viserys. Who else could it be?

She immediately reached for her waist, activating her two crossbows simultaneously, but Viserys blocked them with his bare hands. No, not bare hands—a black weapon! His reaction speed was terrifying.

The female assassin's pupils contracted in shock. This young man's reaction speed and close combat skills were formidable. She had thought she could defeat him in close combat. For a moment, she wanted to dive and escape.

As if reading her thoughts, Viserys shouted, "Wait, we agreed that if you fail, you will work for me. Are you going to break your promise?"

She glanced at Viserys and hesitated. Under her brutal training, her body instinctively urged her to flee, but her brain made a different judgment. Viserys had indeed spared her twice before, as he had said. They had an agreement. Additionally, her intuition told her she might not be able to escape at all.

Seeing her hesitation, Viserys said, "Before you tried to assassinate me, the Seven Gods already gave you a revelation. Are you still going to be so stubborn?" His voice echoed over the water, scattering fish and shrimp in fright.

The female assassin's face twitched in disbelief, her mental defenses on the verge of collapse. Viserys threw the dragonbone dagger at her feet, where it quivered in the deck. She shuddered like a frightened rabbit.

"Accept the will of the gods and follow me, or disobey the will of the gods and kill yourself."

For a moment, she felt as if her body was being pulled in a strange way, like branches swaying in the cold wind. Finally, she made a difficult decision and sat down despondently. "My name is Kyla."

Viserys rowed the boat to a relatively secluded spot. "Kyla? Who sent you?"

"King Robert."

"Nonsense. I asked who gave you the order to kill me."

Kyla seemed a bit dazed. "It was Lord Petyr."

Of course, Viserys thought. Varys wanted the siblings to be targets to attract attention, so it couldn't be him. Robert was a hands-off leader. With Jon Arryn as Hand of the King, Robert wouldn't be directly involved in this. Littlefinger hadn't yet become Master of Coin, so it made sense for him to engage in some small assassination activities as a "achievement."

"Does Petyr know that you're a skinchanger?" Viserys asked.

"Skinchanger?" Kyla looked confused.

"Skinchanger, someone who can control animals!"

"You mean a circus performer?"

"No, a Skinchanger! Someone who can put their consciousness into the minds of animals!"

"What is consciousness?"

Oh, another illiterate, Viserys thought. "I saw how you caught the fish and shrimp when you were drifting at sea."

"With my hands."

"Nonsense. I mean, why did they come to you?"

"They didn't come. They swam." Kyla was genuinely confused and thought Viserys was a fool. 'The gods had chosen such a person?'

Viserys rubbed his forehead, pondering for a moment before speaking. "Can you show me how you catch fish?"

Kyla looked up at the sky and then back at the water. Viserys widened his eyes, not wanting to miss any detail. After a few minutes, Kyla's brown pupils disappeared, making her resemble a ghost on Viserys' boat. It was eerie, especially at night on a small boat.

Moments later, her eyes returned to normal, and she seemed to spring back to life. Her body swayed, and she reached out, grabbing a small fish with her hand.

"Yes, yes, yes! This is it! How did you do that?" Viserys asked excitedly.

"My mother taught me," Kyla replied.

"Tell me more."

Using some persuasive techniques, Viserys coaxed Kyla into sharing her background. Kyla was from the Riverlands, her father a local man and her mother from Beyond the Wall. Her mother was a true skinchanger, able to control black cats to catch mice. This ability allowed her to guard the Lord's granary and raise Kyla after her father's early death. But during the Usurper's War, Kyla became an orphan, abducted by human traffickers, and trained to be an assassin. She excelled due to her ability to control insects and fish, though she never matched her mother's skill.

"My mother told me to keep my abilities a secret. I'm only telling you because I think you're blessed by the Seven Gods," Kyla confessed.

"Thanks, but I have another question. When you control fish at sea, your body shakes. Why is that?"

"Oh? I'm shaking? Actually, I just feel a little dizzy at most."

Okay, that matches up, Viserys thought. He didn't ask if she felt her brain was getting dumber, considering she didn't seem very smart to begin with.

"I hope you can teach me this skill."

"My mother said that not everyone can learn it."

Viserys sighed inwardly but pressed on. "But you should be able to teach me; you have the favor of the Seven."

Kyla pondered for a moment before starting to explain. The key to warging, she said, was imagination. One had to imagine themselves as the animal they wanted to control, observe its behavior, and see the world through its perspective.

As Kyla continued, Viserys found her explanations difficult to grasp, like listening to a baby babbling. He understood the words individually, but when she spoke, they seemed jumbled. He had to rearrange and combine them, using various analogies to establish effective communication.

The two chatted for a long time until the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn.

"If you succeeded in your assassination, how will you contact the person who gave you the order?" Viserys asked, his voice calm but filled with curiosity.

"We don't communicate directly. If I succeeded, I would have to leave a mark at a predetermined location," Kyla replied.

"And if you fail? Will there be a different sign?"

"Yes, there is a sign for failure too," Kyla admitted, feeling a mix of intrigue and wariness.

Viserys nodded, recognizing the cleverness of the system. "Is there a sign for 'preparing'?"

"There is. I drew such a symbol some time ago."

Viserys was pleased to hear this. It meant that no one in Braavos was aware of Kyla's presence or her intentions. As long as he kept sending the "preparing" sign, he could focus on participating in the tournament at the Great Celebration without worry. With only a month until the celebration, he felt reassured, knowing that Braavos was far from King's Landing and that his plan had time to unfold.

Viserys decided he would release the news of his "assassination" later, then give Kyla a new identity to keep her close. His Dragon Dreams ability allowed him to target and locate those with active "killing intent" toward him. This ability only worked for those who were actively planning and moving against him, not for vague threats or passive wishes.

For instance, Robert wanted him dead but hadn't made any specific preparations. Similarly, Littlefinger, acting on Robert's orders, wanted to eliminate him but hadn't taken concrete steps. Therefore, Viserys couldn't locate these threats.

As he pondered this, Viserys realized that if his Dragon Dreams ability improved, he might be able to sense those with mere ill intentions or even those who mentioned or thought about him. This potential expansion of his abilities excited him, as it could grant him an almost god-like awareness of his surroundings and enemies.

A sudden realization hit Viserys, and he froze. He thought about the relationship between gods and their believers. Believers prayed, and gods responded. Could the advanced state of Dragon Dreams function similarly, allowing him to know all intentions directed toward him?

The thought made him swallow hard, a mix of excitement and fear surging through him. A crazy idea formed in his mind: a long staircase appeared before him in his imagination, leading to a solemn altar at the top.

Chapter 40: Dany’s Birthday II

The profits from working with Viserys during this period far exceeded Falia's expectations. She gifted one of her ships to Dany on her birthday, naming it the "Silver Girl." Although Dany couldn't handle the cargo ship and Viserys lacked the time to manage it, Falia continued to run the ship, while the profits belonged to Dany.

On this day, Viserys held a birthday party for Dany. The number of guests far surpassed his expectations. The spacious yard was nearly packed. Guests, aware of Viserys and Falia's close business partnership, attended hoping to capitalize on it, not yet understanding the true value of the event.

Carriages blocked the road, and the room overflowed with gifts. Dany was dazzled by the colorful boxes of all sizes, stacked like a small mountain. Falia sent Ranche, and naturally, Morel and his son were present.

Helbo, who had planned to bring many items, found it difficult to squeeze in. With a bright idea, he called in a dozen of his men to maintain order and his maid to assist. He also invited a singer to praise Dany's beauty, and guests danced to the music.

Only then did Viserys and Dany finally appear. Seeing that it was almost time, Viserys asked his maid to call Dany down. Dany wore a necklace from Falia, a silver dress, and a hair accessory that took four hours to make. She truly embodied the elegance of a Targaryen Princess.

However, when Dany saw the large crowd at her birthday party, she felt overwhelmed. The lawn where she usually practiced swordsmanship was packed with people, creating a vibrant tapestry of colors. It was clear the lawn would need renovation after the party.

As Dany appeared, the guests turned to look at her, unable to take their eyes off her. They had never seen such a beautiful young girl, and their gazes made Dany even more nervous.

She felt a tinge of post traumatic stress disorder, remembering the infamous "crown party" her brother Viserys had thrown, which became the laughingstock of the city and tormented her for an entire year.

"Don't be afraid. Just say hello to the guests," Viserys whispered. He wanted to pat Dany's head, but the elaborate hair ornaments made him hesitate. Glancing back, he saw a woman in a black mask nodding at him. It was Kyla. Since being captured by Viserys, she had become Dany's personal bodyguard, sleeping in the room next to Dany's and never leaving her side during the day. She had already informed her superiors by special means that she was looking for an opportunity to make her move during the 10-Day Festival.

Viserys raised his wine glass and tapped it with a spoon. The guests, who had not yet seen the main character, Dany, looked over. "Thank you all for coming to my sister Daenerys' birthday party. To Dany's health! Cheers!"

"Cheers..." The guests raised their glasses and drank. Many thought they should be toasting Dany's beauty.

Viserys looked around and continued, "In addition, to thank you all for coming, I have prepared some gifts for you, which will be distributed by our Dany."

"Wow! A gift?"

"What gift?" The guests whispered, as a bald man carrying a large bamboo basket appeared. It was Regis. Regis's basket contained numerous exquisite boxes. He led the way, followed by Dany and Kyla. Dany handed the boxes to everyone personally, giving some the chance to "admire" her beauty up close.

"Thank you for coming to my birthday party."

"No, it's my pleasure."

"Thank you for coming to my birthday party."

"It's the gods' favor to me."

"Thank you..."

Even those who hadn't attended the party would think it worthwhile just to see Dany's beauty. Some guests carefully opened their boxes and found the Moon Shadow inside. Although it was only the size of a quail egg, it was enough to surprise them. What Viserys said next made their trip truly worthwhile.

"These 'Moon Shadows' are all the scraps of the Moon Shadows offered to the gods. If they are used to worship the gods, it is disrespectful, but if they are used by mortals, it is a kind of grace!"

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone quickly took a look and then carefully tucked the gift into their arms. In this era of poor medical conditions, the Moon Shadow was more than just a piece of soap. With the blessing of the gods, it might be the elixir that brings the dead back to life in desperate moments.

However, not everyone was impressed. Andersen pinched the soap with his fingernail, finding it greasy, and tossed it back into the box. His eyes never left Dany. She was even more beautiful than the first time he saw her, reaffirming his confidence in his own judgment. In fact, he had been the one to set the original trap for Viserys.

Andersen's gaze shifted to Viserys, his brown eyes flashing with malice. 'A stray dog that keeps getting in the way of my plans! Today, you will learn the meaning of the word "obey!"' To him, the siblings were easy prey.

After setting his sights on Dany, he hired a trainer from New Ghis to prepare her as a bed slave, a plan only thwarted by Viserys's interference. However, this time his goal aligned with his family's interests, allowing him to pressure the Viserys siblings on behalf of House Fregar.

He gave his personal servant a discreet nod. The lean servant in his thirties, seemingly telepathic with his master, understood the request without a word. He nodded back and walked towards Viserys and the others.

"Who is it?" Regis, serving tea and water to the guests, heard a knock at the door. He approached, a bit impatient. When the person at the door introduced himself, Regis seemed to panic. "Yes, yes, yes. Just a moment."

Viserys and the others noticed Regis's strange reaction and looked at him with concern. "Someone from House Fregar is here."

"Fregar!" The name rang in Helbo's ears, causing his hand to shake and the meat on his fork to fall. He glanced at Viserys, thinking the young man was being overly proud. While it was an achievement for Falia to send someone to congratulate his sister, associating with such a powerful family was even more impressive. But remembering Viserys's former identity, it was not surprising.

Old Morel and his son were also clearly surprised, but Morel sensed something was amiss when he saw Viserys's expression. Viserys himself was confused; he had no connection with House Fregar, except for a clue he had found earlier indicating that before Danglar left Braavos, he had gone to Moonsingers, where the Fregars had the most concentrated family business. The other party did not seem friendly.

Despite his lack of strength to refuse, Viserys agreed to let the visitor in. A moment later, a young man in his late twenties with a strong build entered. He surveyed the room, his manner presumptuous and eyes revealing contempt. When he looked at Viserys, jealousy flashed in his eyes. 'Hmph, with such a face, it would be better to sell him to New Ghis to be trained as a bed slave.'

"It is a great honor to have you attend my sister's birthday party," Viserys said as the host.

But Andersen ignored Viserys's words and sat down uninvited. Morel and Helbo, sensing something was wrong, put down their knives and forks, sitting primly with their hands under the table and wearing flattering smiles. Andersen, however, paid them no mind and looked at Viserys. "How is Prince Viserys doing in Braavos?"

Just as Viserys was about to respond, Andersen waved him off. "Hey, a dog that has lost its home, how could it be doing well?" Viserys was now certain that the man before him was the one who had set him up.

He remembered that when the current Sealord was about to die, he transferred his power to the House Fregar. This meant that in the future, the Fregar family would likely win the battle against House Zalyne.

Although Viserys had previously discovered that the person who set up the original Viserys might be from House Fregar, he chose to remain silent. But now that Andersen had made a bold appearance, Viserys realized he had little room to back down.

Andersen's words caused Helbo and the others to gasp in surprise. His rudeness made them wonder when Viserys had offended him. The group dared not breathe, observing Viserys and Andersen's reactions.

Viserys knew this was not the time to turn his back on them, nor did he have the means to do so. The original Viserys had died a violent death for not setting things straight. He told himself to endure for the time being. If he really wanted to vent his anger, he could wait until the dragon hatched. Then, even if he had to level Braavos, he would have a chance.

"Your words are indeed sharp," he responded in a neutral tone. Andersen was a little surprised to see that Viserys's expression had not changed. Leaning back, he looked around and said, "Where is Dany? Why is the main character of this banquet missing?"

"She's upstairs opening her presents," Viserys replied.

"Oh, I see. Dany is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Andersen said as the maid Jill served him with cutlery. Andersen grabbed a fork and rudely poked a large piece of meat off the lamb chop on the plate.

"When Dany grows up, she will definitely be a beauty. If she becomes the Courtesan of Braavos, she will surely win the beauty pageant and become the chief courtesan! Then countless men would throw gold at her feet just to spend a night with her. I believe that when Dany grows up, there is nothing she can't do if she just spreads her legs," Andersen said, looking at the lamb chop in his hand with a lewd expression.

'I'm going to kill you!' Viserys took a deep breath, immediately thinking of nine ways to kill Andersen. Among other things, he could throw the fork in his hand and impale the man in the throat. But unfortunately, he couldn't act now. If he did, no one in the courtyard would survive. He couldn't let anyone else pay the price for his actions.

Morel and his son were terrified, glancing at Viserys, afraid he might do something rash. Helbo was shaking with fear. Viserys had always impressed him as someone who could kill a man as easily as a chicken. He also knew that Dany was Viserys's Achilles' heel. Now that Andersen was about to exploit this weakness, could Viserys suppress his anger?

"They say a mother is a child's first teacher, and it seems the prince has learned his lessons from a good source," Andersen sneered, looking provocatively at the lamb chop in his hand. When Viserys spoke rudely to him, the ferocity in Andersen's brown eyes swept toward Viserys like a wolf's claws. But as their eyes met, Andersen felt a chill down his spine.

Viserys's burning purple eyes, slightly engorged, were unnerving. The stainless steel knife and fork in his hand were twisted together like a metal twist. Andersen suddenly remembered that the young man before him was not just any mourner, but one with fangs.

Dany was Viserys's only concern. If Andersen pushed too hard, he might not leave this room alive. Fearing Viserys's retort, the Morel and Helbo felt as if they had fallen into an icy pit. All they could think was: 'Please, stop!'

Viserys and Andersen's eyes locked like swords above the table, emitting a fiery glow. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. The maid Jill had fainted, her face pale and bloodless.

Crunch, crunch, crunch... The knife and fork in Viserys's hand made a sound that set everyone's teeth on edge. Faced with such a cold atmosphere, Andersen couldn't stand it any longer. He said, "House Fregar is very interested in the Shadow of the Moon you invented..."

He stopped mid-sentence, his meaning clear: Hand over the soap, and you'll be spared for now.

"There are many interested parties," Viserys replied, leaving the rest unsaid—'Who do you think you are?'

However, Helbo was screaming in his heart: 'Give it to him! Please! Give it to him!!'

Chapter 41: The Power of House Fregar

"Haha, very good!" Andersen smiled as he responded to Viserys. To Helbo and the others, his smile felt colder than the harshest winter wind. The underlying message seemed clear: 'Okay, fine. Just wait until it's your turn to die.'

Andersen stood and said, "What a pleasant banquet. I wish Prince Dany a happy birthday." He casually dropped the fork with the lamb chop and began to leave.

"No need to see him off." Viserys called out, stopping Andersen in his tracks briefly before he continued walking. His fists were clenched, barely containing his anger.

Morel and Helbo turned to Viserys in horror. They wanted to get up and see Andersen off, but their legs were weak and they were drenched in sweat. They struggled to stand but quickly sat back down.

Just then, Dany descended the stairs, having removed her hair ornaments with the help of her maid. Her hair was braided into thick braids, making her head look like a gourd. Seeing Jill fainted, she hurried over to check on her. "Brother, what's wrong with Jill?"

"She's probably not feeling well. Let her go home and rest for a few days," Viserys said, giving Dany's maid a wink. The maid quickly helped Jill up and carried her away.

"Prince, what should we do now?" Helbo asked. Morel and his son looked at him, hoping for a reliable answer. But Viserys didn't answer them. Instead, he looked at Dany and said, "Dany, a very powerful person is trying to hurt us. Are you afraid?"

Their two pairs of purple eyes met, and Dany replied, "Is he stronger than Robert?"

"Not even close."

"Then I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anyone as long as I have my brother."

"Good for you."

Only then did Helbo realize that the siblings were accustomed to such threats.

"You must be hungry. Come and eat," Viserys said, moving his chair to make room for Dany. As Viserys leaned over to Helbo, the man instinctively leaned to the side. Viserys wiped the blood from his hand and placed it on Helbo's shoulder, then said in a joking tone, "It's truly a dragon swimming in shallow water being teased by shrimp."

Helbo didn't know what to say. When he heard Viserys translate this into Valyrian, he thought it made sense... 'Bullshit! You're about to die, and you call that being wronged?'

"That's enough. You guys go back first. I'll figure this out," Viserys said, realizing that his plan to use Dany's birthday party to consolidate his connections had failed. Morel and Helbo now wanted nothing to do with him, and those who had hoped to use his connections to reach Falia would likely scatter after hearing the news.

As Andersen had said, the siblings were like dogs without a home. Although their residence was palatial compared to the homes of ordinary people, it wasn't truly theirs. It was unlikely that the Sealord would help them, and the three houses had no reason to fight for a lost Prince who had been exiled.

Now, Viserys had three options:

First, run. Leave Braavos with nothing but the soap recipe. But that would be even more dangerous. If Robert didn't kill him, the Fregars would send someone after him. Especially if they went to another Free City, where they would be treated like pariahs, their situation would only get worse.

Second, hand over the recipe and beg for forgiveness. If Viserys handed over the recipe, he would be begging for mercy. He would also have to hand over his sister. If that were the case, he might as well take his chances and feed himself to the dogs.

If neither of the first two options were possible, then there was only one last option left: show enough value to make the three families tear each other apart. And Viserys just happened to have that value.

That night, Viserys took Dany and Kyla to the town of Wind Lake, where the pregnant noblewoman Zalyne had told him to go. The town was named Wind Lake because it was home to Braavos' largest lake. Even though it was night, Viserys could see the shadow of the largest building in the town. It stood among the other buildings like the peak of a mountain, like the flagship of a fleet—very conspicuous.

As they approached, Viserys saw the full picture of the fortress-like building. The walls were carved with ship patterns. This was the home of the House Zalyne.

Before they got too close, they saw lights flashing on the wall. After a while, a person squeezed out of a half-man-high doorway next to the gate. The man was about the size of a child, barely reaching Viserys' navel, and not as tall as Dany. Upon closer inspection, they saw he was a bald little man.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" the little man asked in a shrill voice.

Viserys handed Dany's bracelet to him and said, "A lady gave us this bracelet and said that if we showed it, we would be able to see her."

The dwarf took the bracelet and examined it, his impatience disappearing. "But why are you visiting at this time? The Lady is already asleep."

Hearing this, Viserys let out a sigh of relief. This dwarf looked like an ordinary servant of the Zalyne family, but he recognized the noblewoman's bracelet. It seemed the lady was someone of status, not just a kept woman.

"It doesn't matter. Please introduce us to her tomorrow morning. We'll be waiting under that tree. Is that okay?"

The dwarf looked at Viserys and then peered into the carriage on tiptoe. Seeing a little girl and a woman inside, he lowered his guard slightly. "Okay, you can wait there." He carefully tucked the bracelet into his bosom as if it were made of fragile glass rather than gold and precious stones. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," said Viserys, taking a letter from his bosom and handing it to him. "Give this to the Lady when she wakes up."

The dwarf glanced at the letter and then tucked it into his bosom as well. "Thank you for your hard work," Viserys said, indicating he had no further business. The dwarf nodded and then slipped through the small door.

"Brother, what's in the letter?" Dany asked.

Viserys smiled and said, "It's a secret for now. I'll tell you the whole story later."

After that, Viserys instructed the driver to stop the carriage under the big tree, and the three of them waited quietly inside.

Chapter 42: House Zalyne

Based on my observation of the noblewoman's complexion that day, she appeared to be a pregnant woman suffering from slow-acting lead poisoning. Combined with the information he'd gathered earlier, Viserys knew that the Zalynes had not had a healthy child in over a decade, a direct cause of their decline. Viserys estimated that the child in the lady's womb was also unlikely to survive.

Additionally, there were rumors that the current Sealord's health was deteriorating, displaying symptoms typical of severe anemia. Among the three families, only House Fregar showed milder symptoms of lead poisoning. The reason was unclear to Viserys, but he speculated that either the Fregars were aware of the dangers and took precautions, or their regular diet helped expel lead from their bodies. If it was the former, their intentions were sinister; if the latter, they were simply fortunate.

Viserys couldn't guarantee that he could cure the Lady, but he could offer her hope. If she accepted his help, he wouldn't have to worry about the soap workshop.

"Dany, go to sleep if you want. I'll keep watch. Kyla, you should sleep too," Viserys said.

"Lord, I'll keep watch," Kyla offered.

"I'm not sure about your skills," Viserys replied with a hint of sadness.

Kyla, who had always considered herself a bodyguard, started to disagree but realized Viserys was right. "Brother, I'm not tired. I'll keep you company," Dany said.

"Close your eyes and recite the song of the moon. You'll fall asleep in no time," Viserys suggested, arranging for the two of them to sleep together, snuggled up close. The custom-made carriage was spacious, with blankets and pillows, allowing them to sleep comfortably.

...

Meanwhile, Helbo, upon leaving, began to "technically lay off" his employees. "Just tell everyone they've all worked hard recently, give them their money, and let them relax for a while."

"Yes, M'lord. Are you going somewhere else?" the young accountant asked, meticulously aware of Helbo's financial situation. It was unusual for him to dismiss his staff when the soap workshop was doing well, making this move particularly strange.

"Me? I also need to take a break. I've been spending most of my time at the Moon Pool Theater lately," Helbo said. By "Moon Pool Theater," he actually meant the area around Purple Harbor. Helbo had already converted most of his money into expensive gems, ready to flee a

t any moment if House Fregar made a move.

Meanwhile, Morel and his son informed Falia about the confrontation between Viserys and Andersen. However, Falia didn't have a good solution. As a courtesan, she spent her days mingling in the upper circles, but without a solid foundation, they could fall at any time.

Though the houses wouldn't act against them on a whim, she sensed something was wrong this time. Falia couldn't blame Viserys for not being calm, and she didn't want him to hand over the soap recipe easily either. She needed the income from the soap just as much as Viserys did. For now, all she could do was take things one step at a time.

"Lady Falia, why don't we go to the Great Grass Sea together? You're so beautiful, you'll definitely be noticed by a Khal, and then you'll become a Khaleesi!" Asha suggested, her dark, almond-shaped eyes serious and earnest.

Falia smiled and said nothing. Asha's thinking was too naive. Someone like Falia might have some status in Braavos, but elsewhere, she would be an easy target. In places like the Great Grass Sea, she would be eaten alive.

"Let's wait a little longer. Didn't Viserys say he would find a way? Let's wait a little longer," Falia said, more to herself than to Asha. She could read the swordsmen and merchants around her easily, but Viserys remained an enigma. Some time ago, she had asked Asha to gather information about him. In just three months, he seemed to have undergone a massive transformation.

Most people believed Viserys had become ruthless, willing to kill without hesitation. But Falia saw that his so-called ruthlessness was different. He spared Helbo, who was relatively weak, but killed Banergar without mercy, using the terrifying method of tying a rope around his mouth to show off his skills. He even took on the job of being a henchman as a prince, a mentality not easily adjusted.

Falia had a feeling that this "Beggar King," as others saw him, would be able to turn the tide of this crisis and perhaps even rise higher.

...

With a roar like a Titan, Braavos begins a new day. The sound emanates from the Titan of Braavos, one of the nine wonders of the world. Although the Titan is a little far from Bitterwell, its roar is muted when the siblings are at home. Families like the Zalyne's have carefully chosen their location, ensuring the Titan's roar is heard clearly.

At this moment, the House Zalyne fortress also rings out with bells. The bells are long and short, and very regular. Like a string of instructions, they make the ancient fortress come to life.

Dany and Kyla, who had slept in their clothes, woke up quietly. It was as if they remembered that something important was going to happen today. As soon as they opened their eyes, they sat up. Viserys handed them each a damp towel.

"Wipe your faces. We should be able to get in soon."

Looking out of the carriage window, Viserys saw figures moving on the battlements. 'They must be House Zalyne's servants. The three great houses share the military power of Braavos, so it's possible these people are all in the army,' Viserys thought to himself.

Soon, the gate of the fortress creaked open, as if breathing the first breath of air each day. A woman emerged from behind the gate—the maid who had accompanied the noblewoman to the Temple of the Moonsingers the other day. She walked with a straight posture, moving gracefully towards Viserys' carriage.

Chapter 43: A Victory Without Bloodshed

The maid introduced herself as Pyrena. She wore a long, pale-colored dress with three red patterns on the sleeves, which gave the impression of some kind of status symbol. Pyrena recognized Viserys and his sister at a glance. She only refused to follow Kyla.

"It's okay, you can just guard the carriage," she said.

With that, the two siblings followed her into the fortress. As soon as they entered, Viserys felt as if he had opened the door to a fantasy world. The vibrant colors and exotic flowers made it seem like a painted canvas. The garden was adorned with coral decorations, their bright red hue so intense it was almost blinding.

Walking through a long corridor, they passed walls decorated with vivid murals, painted with gold leaf and precious pigments. Servants bustled about everywhere in the fortress, tirelessly running around like worker ants. Pyrena led the siblings through countless turns, and while Viserys was fine, Dany was starting to feel a bit dizzy.

After about half an hour, they arrived at a side hall. "The Lady is still washing up, so you two can wait here for a while," Pyrena said.

"No problem," Viserys replied.

The siblings observed the so-called "side hall," which was spacious enough to hold a ball. It wasn't exactly magnificent, but it was quite stylish. The room featured more than twenty bonsai-sized coral decorations, reflecting the family's fondness for coral.

Viserys noticed that Dany seemed a little nervous. She sat upright, as if someone was supervising her. "A little nervous?" he asked casually.

Dany shook her head shyly. "It's nothing."

"You'll get used to it," Viserys reassured her. To him, the difference between those who had seen the world and those who hadn't was just a matter of experience. If the richest man in the world were placed in Viserys' world, he'd be overwhelmed too. Dany hadn't attended any formal social gatherings before, so her nerves were understandable.

After another half hour, Pyrena returned. "Ghests, the Lady is waiting for you."

The siblings got up, and Dany followed Viserys through the hallways until they finally met Lady Methys on a terrace, dressed in luxurious clothes. According to aristocratic custom, visits should be made in the afternoon or evening. Viserys and his sister had come early in the morning, which was rather rude. However, when Methys heard that they had been waiting outside all night, her slight displeasure disappeared.

Pyrena arranged for the siblings to sit down. Methys' eyes kept wandering over Dany, as if she had seen something she particularly liked, making Dany feel a little embarrassed.

After a few seconds, Methys reluctantly looked away, then turned to Viserys and said, holding up the envelope in his hand, "You told me you had a solution to these problems?"

"I can't say it's a complete solution, but it can be greatly improved. At the same time, the probability of House Zalyne having a healthy child will be greatly increased."

Methys looked at him seriously, revealing a hint of pressure. But Viserys, who had faced warlords before, remained unfazed.

"Lady, the problem is with the water you drink."

Pyrena, standing nearby, looked at him with contempt. This was water from the Sweetwater River, and the nobles of Braavos had been drinking it for hundreds of years without issue. To her, Viserys was simply exaggerating.

"Tell me," Methys said, his sincere expression prompting Viserys to continue.

"The Braavos healers like to call illnesses such as 'dizziness,' 'insomnia,' and 'easily fatigued' 'nobleman's illnesses,' but in fact, these are all symptoms of lead poisoning."

"Lead? Poisoning?" Methys repeated in confusion. Pyrena, still skeptical, added, "Prince, lead is considered a good medicine by many healers. It calms the nerves and helps people sleep. How can it poison people?"

Viserys didn't intend to mock her. He knew about lead poisoning, a knowledge that stemmed from the understanding of that era.

'In some historical plays,' he thought, 'the sedative soup often mentioned is made by imperial doctors adding lead. Restless children? Sedative soup. Ladies struggling to sleep? Sedative soup. This has caused numerous cases of lead poisoning.'

"It is a common misconception to talk about toxicity without considering the dosage," Viserys explained. "People will die of starvation if they don't eat, but they can also die from overeating. The same principle applies to medicine."

He continued, addressing Methys, "The symptoms of the Sealord's Palace's illness are typical of anemia. Although he has never disclosed his physical condition publicly, I am certain he exhibits all these symptoms. For example, shortness of breath, pale complexion, loss of appetite, and sensitivity to cold."

Methys nodded thoughtfully. "I haven't seen the Lord for a long time, but I can say that his demeanor varies significantly with the weather."

Methys and Pyrena exchanged a quick glance, silently acknowledging each other's agreement.

Viserys caught the subtle exchange and decided to press his point. "Lady, lead poisoning is especially harmful to children."

At the mention of children, Methys's expression tightened. The subject was almost taboo within the fortress.

"Delayed mental development, resulting in a lack of intelligence," Viserys elaborated. "Weak muscles, meaning they lack strength. Easily agitated, leading to bad tempers."

If Viserys had only mentioned the first two symptoms, Methys might have dismissed him as a charlatan. But the third symptom struck a chord. For the past decade, no child in House Zalyne had grown up healthy. They were either slow-witted or frail and prone to anger. This was known only to those serving closely within the household. The Healers' remedy for the children's bad tempers had always been "calming soup," perpetuating a vicious cycle.

Now, Methys believed him. "Then what is your solution?"

Viserys felt a surge of relief, knowing he was more than halfway to his goal. "Eat more lemons, fish, and shrimp, and most importantly, stop drinking water from the Long Canal. Instead, drink directly purified water."

He paused, then added with a serious tone, "Lady Methys, I also have a plan that will make House Zalyne the sole master of Braavos. And it will be a victory without bloodshed."

Chapter 44: Purple Dragon Egg

In fact, the plan Viserys devised was quite simple: quietly replace the family's lead water pipes with safer alternatives. Over a few decades, House Zalyne would see an increase in intelligent and strong children, while the other two houses would naturally decline.

According to Viserys's research on Braavos, it was likely the lead pipes that contributed to high class mobility. The top tier's low fertility forced them to make way for the lower classes. This dynamic prevented the three great families from fully controlling Braavos but also strengthened the city by broadening the talent pool.

However, Lady Methys's intuition told her that if all positions were filled by her descendants, her family would become even stronger. She was momentarily entranced by the vision Viserys painted, her eyes shining with excitement. Yet, her high-status acumen quickly brought her back to reality.

"I understand why you are here," she said.

Viserys nodded with a smile, unsurprised. The introduction of soap had already attracted the attention of many Braavosi nobles, including the three great houses. Methys was only slightly surprised that the soap's inventor was Dany's brother and had a hunch that Viserys might seek her out.

Soon, Viserys and Methys reached an agreement. He provided the soap recipe, and House Zalyne would handle production and sales.

His share was reduced from 45% to 10%. Although it was a significant reduction, with the Zalynes' influence, soap would be sold throughout the Free Cities within half a year, and even Westeros and Slaver's Bay would soon see its introduction.

Methys's husband, already over 50 and due to the family's decline, had to manage the fleet himself and was often away for years. Lady Methys essentially ran House Zalyne, giving her considerable influence.

Having decided to turn their backs on House Fregar, they resolved to go all the way. The workshop would remain open as a decoy, while a new workshop would produce soap.

Their agreement didn't need written documentation; Viserys's value lay in keeping the lead poisoning secret. If he couldn't sustain the profits in two or three years, his ten percent share would be gradually absorbed.

This outcome was much better than Viserys had anticipated. If all went well, the soap business would bring him at least a hundred thousand gold dragons in two or three years.

Dany, observing from the side, witnessed "power politics" in action for the first time. She also realized that the crisis brought by the uninvited guest Andersen had been effectively neutralized.

As the two were about to leave, Viserys asked, "Lady, do you have any dragon eggs in your collection?"

Methys glanced at Viserys, trying to gauge his intentions.

"I know that if you do, they must be your most precious treasures. I just want Dany to see them. As a Targaryen, she has never seen a dragon egg. This is my failure as a brother."

Methys's expression softened at his words. "Of course," she replied, giving a wink to Pyrena.

Pyrena nodded and went to fetch the egg.

"A dragon egg!" Dany's eyes widened. As a true Targaryen, she had never seen one in person, only in Viserys's stories and paintings.

"Wait here for a moment," Methys said. "The dragon egg will be here shortly."

"Thank you, Lady," Viserys replied.

A moment later, Pyrena returned to the terrace carrying a black wooden box.

"Here it is, a real, complete dragon egg!" Viserys exclaimed, his excitement palpable. The last time, he had only seen a fragment of a dragon egg, which had already provided him with three Assignable Points. How many would this complete dragon egg provide?

The box was placed on the table with a dull thud. Pyrena's steady handling indicated she was well-practiced, which made sense—Methys, as the head of her household, wouldn't have someone clumsy handling such precious items.

Pyrena opened the box to reveal a purple dragon egg, its size comparable to an electric kettle. The egg's surface was adorned with a scaly floral pattern and three silver streaks running through it like bolts of lightning.

Dany stood stunned, the purple dragon egg gleaming like a large gemstone in the morning light.

"Can I touch it?" Viserys asked, ready to pretend an accidental touch if necessary.

Methys didn't refuse, perhaps due to her fondness for Viserys or affection for Dany. Most likely, it was the latter.

"Go ahead," she said.

Viserys reached out, his fingers trembling with anticipation as they brushed against the smooth, scaled surface of the dragon egg.

"Be careful," Methys cautioned.

"Okay," Viserys replied.

He carefully lifted the fossilized dragon egg from the box, feeling its cold surface. Pyrena's eyes remained fixed on the egg in his hands, ready to catch it if he dropped it.

[A complete fossilized dragon egg yields 10.5 Assignable Points. Holding it for an additional day will earn you an additional 0.5 Assignable Points.]

Ten points! Half a point per day! That's the value of a complete fossilized dragon egg, Viserys thought.

"Here, touch it," Viserys said, holding the egg out to Dany.

Dany cautiously extended her right hand, spreading her thumb and pinky while lightly touching the egg with the tips of her middle three fingers. It was as if the egg would shatter with any pressure. She touched it twice, then withdrew her hand.

Viserys returned the egg to the box. "Well, today was a worthwhile trip. Please thank the Lady for me."

Pyrena closed the box and nodded. Viserys decided to keep this matter secret for now, not informing Falia. Morel needed to continue the act, and Falia couldn't stop either. Although the workshop was doomed, Morel and his son would benefit from gaining House Zalyne's friendship. Methys would undoubtedly compensate them.

Falia, unaware of these sudden developments, would gain more support from House Zalyne when the celebration began. However, things were not going well for her. After her break with Viserys, Andersen quickly launched his campaign against her.

Chapter 45: Constitution +10

After leaving the fortress of House Zalyne, Viserys immediately focused on enhancing his constitution with the attributes that had increased by more than ten points. He signaled to Dany and Kyla to remain silent for the time being. Opening the panel, he saw that his Constitution was already at 73.6. Adding 10.5 points would bring it to 84.1, the level of a first-class warrior.

Although there was still a gap between him and the humanoid monsters like the Mountain or the tribal chiefs like the Horselord who rose to power through sheer force, he was already a rare warrior. Not only could he fully display his swordsmanship and combat skills, but he also had additional bonuses. After all, there's a saying that "Might makes right." With enough strength, he could perform any trick.

Adding all the points to his Constitution, he immediately felt a surge of power throughout his body. His muscles twitched continuously, like a swarm of snakes writhing under his skin. His bones cracked, and his head steamed like a kettle. Dany and Kyla had never witnessed such a scene before and couldn't help but worry about Viserys. They wanted to ask him about it, but his earlier request for silence held them back. From his expression, however, it seemed like he was enjoying the experience, with a smile on his lips and a light sweat on his forehead. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was in a sauna.

As the two of them watched Viserys's transformation with curiosity, a strange smell suddenly filled the carriage. At first, they searched for the source of the odor, but soon it became so strong that their eyes watered.

"This... this can't be shit, can it?" Kyla asked, unable to hide her disgust. 'Why would the gods choose someone who shits in his pants?'

Both of them covered their noses and mouths, fighting the urge to jump out of the carriage. Soon they were retching.

Finally, they arrived home, and both jumped out of the carriage as if escaping. The coachman was about to help them down but saw them running more than ten meters away from the carriage, panting heavily. Feeling puzzled, he turned around and looked through the curtain. The stench hit him like a punch, leaving his head spinning.

"What the hell is going on in this carriage?" he exclaimed, about to speak but was stopped by Kyla. She warned the coachman not to spread what had happened. As the "messenger of the gods," Viserys's embarrassing situation was not something to be shared.

After about ten minutes, Viserys opened his eyes. His senses restored, he jumped so high that he broke through the roof of the carriage. The closed environment and sudden gain of strength made him mistakenly think he had been hit by a tear gas bomb, leading to his uncontrolled leap.

Dany and Kyla looked at him in horror. 'How could a person jump that high? He must be a monster!' With the carriage in disarray, they stared at Viserys, who stood there like a statue.

After a moment, he realized the unpleasant smell was coming from his own body. Without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes and rushed to the water storage room, moving so fast that his legs left a blur. If someone had measured his speed, they would have found it nearly reaching the limit of human capability. Grabbing a bucket, he poured water over his head, and gray-brown dirt streamed down to form a small river at his feet. Though a faint odor remained, it was quickly dissipating.

Dany and Kyla, recovering their senses, followed him with deep concern. According to Dany, if a person stank, it usually meant they were injured, yet she couldn't recall Viserys being hurt. Kyla was equally puzzled, wondering if Viserys had been poisoned. But why was Dany unaffected?

When they reached the water room, their doubts were replaced by astonishment. Viserys stood there, his body clean and flawless, resembling a sculpture of a god. The water cascading down his skin gave it a dazzling luster, and his muscles, shifting with each movement, seemed the work of a master artist. Both women were momentarily stunned. For over a decade, Kyla had known only training and combat, but now she felt something within her stir. If a god stood before her, 'This is what it would look like', she thought, rendered speechless.

At that moment, the maid discovered the commotion and hurried to the water room. Upon seeing Viserys' body, her heart raced, her breathing quickened, and she felt dizzy as if she had taken some potent elixir.

"Don't just look, bring me some clothes," Viserys instructed. The maid, realizing her embarrassment, turned away, her face flushed from her cheeks to her ears.

"Brother," Dany said softly, as if afraid of startling him.

"I'm fine. Don't tell anyone about what happened today," he replied. The two women nodded.

After thoroughly washing with soap, Viserys headed to the lawn where he and his sister usually practiced martial arts. His Constitution had now reached 84, allowing him to earn 0.23 Assignable Points daily. This meant that by the tenth day celebration in a month, his Constitution would surpass 90!

'If I had such a reaction breaking through 80, what will happen when I reach 90? What if it reaches 100? If this continues, as long as I live long enough, I'll probably be as strong as Captain America, if not stronger. I could jump off a ten-story building and walk away with just a pat on the back,' he mused, envisioning the possibilities.

"Kyla, attack me," Viserys commanded, holding a two-handed sword effortlessly in one hand as he performed a casual sword dance. The weapon's formidable power was evident in the whirring sound it made slicing through the air. Kyla realized that he must have become even stronger—could this be a gift from the gods?

Drawing her sword, Kyla engaged Viserys in combat. The first blow made her arms go numb, a sensation familiar from dueling strong swordsmen. However, the second blow disrupted her balance, shocking her. As an assassin, her greatest strength was her agility. By the third blow, she was left speechless—Viserys had knocked the sword from her hand!

As the weakest of the three, Dany couldn't discern much from the fight, but she knew her brother had grown even stronger. Viserys casually plunged his sword into the ground, where it sank halfway in. Despite having fought Kyla, he had used only 30% of his strength.

He realized his current strength allowed him to wield a two-handed sword as a one-handed sword. Moreover, his left hand had become much more flexible, prompting him to consider dual-wielding. With such power, he held an extra card in his hand. If his conflict with Andersen escalated uncontrollably, he could escape with Dany, protecting her in any Free City.

Viserys estimated that House Fregar would make their move in two days at most. Fortunately, with House Zalyne backing him, his residence was well-guarded, thanks to Methys.

...

Less than three days after Dany's birthday party, Ranche hurriedly approached him, looking very anxious. Even his usually well-ironed, neat clothes seemed a bit messy.

Chapter 46: Falia’s Troubles

"Prince Viserys, can you tell me what happened between you and Andersen on the day of Lady Dany's birthday party?" Ranche asked anxiously.

"Huh? Didn't Morel tell you?" Viserys replied.

"No, we can't get in touch with them at all. I snuck out from Lady Falia," Ranche admitted, his usual grace replaced with evident worry.

"Alright, here's the situation," Viserys began, still a bit surprised by how quickly House Fregar had acted. The day he returned from Methys, he learned that workers in the workshop had been attacked. By the next day, more than half of them were injured, forcing Morel's workshop to shut down. This abrupt halt derailed Falia and Viserys' original plan.

Their methods were beyond Viserys' expectations. Coming from a world of law and order, he had assumed that House Fregar would apply economic pressure, perhaps cutting off raw materials like whale oil. He hadn't expected them to target the workers directly. Many citizens of Braavos were already on the brink of starvation, relying on their daily labor to survive. Now, injured and unable to work, their situation was dire. The once-bustling workshop had fallen eerily silent, leaving Morel and his son devastated.

Falia, too, was suffering under Andersen's manipulation. She was constantly harassed, unable to meet with anyone, and effectively in "semi-house arrest." Her "protectors" had mostly scattered.

A few tried to seek justice for their "Lady Moonshadow," but they quickly disappeared, as if swallowed by the city itself. The immense pressure made Falia feel genuine fear for the first time. She had believed she could navigate the elite circles of Braavos, but now she saw the true power wielded by her enemies and felt powerless.

Considering Viserys' status, House Fregar wouldn't directly harm him, so they sent Ranche to make contact. As Ranche listened to the details from Viserys, his eyes grew hollow. His body weakened, as if the weight of the news had drained the strength from his bones.

After a long pause, Ranche turned to Viserys and said, "You... how could you... that's House Fregar!"

He knew deep down that Viserys couldn't be blamed for this. Without the workshop, Falia would still face failure. The only difference was that instead of a slow demise, it was a sudden death. If things continued like this, Falia would sooner or later become Andersen's plaything, or even worse, a pawn of House Fregar.

Ranche understood that Viserys had little choice in cooperating with House Fregar. Even if Viserys had chosen to cooperate, it would have meant betraying his allies. Falia's fate would have remained the same, only delayed.

"Lady Falia, I am incompetent..." Ranche muttered in despair, sliding off his chair and falling to his knees.

"Do you think crying and screaming will stop House Fregar?" Viserys said, grabbing Ranche's shoulder and pulling him up. "Can you ride a horse? Let's go find Falia together."

"Kyla, take care of Dany," he instructed.

With that, Viserys and Ranche left swiftly.

...

The situation on Falia's side had deteriorated significantly. To confine her, Andersen brought over a dozen family guards disguised as his entourage and stationed them outside. No one could see Falia, and sending a message out was nearly impossible.

The flower boat was in disarray. Delicate glass vases lay shattered on the floor, creating sharp obstacles. The furnishings were overturned, and an incense burner had been knocked over, releasing dust into the air. Falia's maid, Asha, was on the floor, clutching her stomach and trying to crawl towards her mistress. Andersen, losing patience, had stepped on Asha's hand. Even though his house had given him strict instructions not to use force, mindful of their reputation.

Despite being a form of prostitution, the courtesan profession was highly respected in Braavos, which was famous for it. Ruining the reputation of the courtesans would encourage others to do the same, harming the Courtesan Economy that brought significant revenue to Braavos. Every decade or so, some fool would try to force himself on a courtesan, but they were always executed by the three great houses. This reinforced the importance of courtesan purity—not noble, but expensive.

It was not in the interests of the three great houses to take the courtesans without paying a suitable price. Of course, it was possible to bypass this, provided one could conquer these highly trained women, who had seen countless men. But this was something the houses guarded jealously.

"Lord Andersen, she is only a servant girl. Please don't hurt her," Falia pleaded, her voice trembling with anxiety. Asha, only a year or two younger than Falia, had grown up alongside her, and their bond was deep. Seeing Asha in pain made Falia desperate.

"Oh? Then please, Lady Moonshadow, take my advice. Give me your loyalty, and I will cherish it. I promise you the protection of House Fregar," Andersen replied, making his intentions clear. He was going to take advantage of her!

Asha cried out in pain as Andersen increased the pressure on her hand. Falia closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. 'That's it. After today, I'll take Asha to another Free City,' she was resigning herself to her fate.

She gently pulled down her veil, revealing a face that seemed sculpted by the gods. Andersen's eyes burned with lust as he finally saw the object of his desire.

His thoughts raced. 'Next is Dany. If I can have both of them, I'll be more powerful than the lord!'

Suddenly, a shout came from outside. "Lady Moonshadow! I'm here to keep our appointment!" It was Viserys' voice.

Falia's hand, which was about to undo the button on her dress, froze. 'He's here! But can he get on the boat with Andersen's men all around?'

From the shore, Viserys called out again, "Lady Falia! I'm coming aboard!"

Almost instinctively, Falia tugged at the rope beside her, causing a silver bell on the flower boat to ring out clearly. This signal meant Viserys was coming for an appointment, not to assassinate her.

Andersen glared at Falia, then looked out to see Viserys fighting the guards he had stationed. He sneered, confident his guards, the best of the family, could handle a sixteen-year-old boy. But before Andersen could finish his thought, he saw his men being easily overpowered. Viserys was a whirlwind, tossing guards aside and even kicking some into the lake.

The elite guards of House Fregar were like paper-mache dolls, torn to pieces by Viserys' onslaught. With a final look at Andersen, Viserys flashed a grin, revealing his dazzling white teeth, and leapt into the lake with a splash.

Chapter 47: Hard to Get

From the shore to Falia's boat, it was only about 300 meters. Andersen estimated that Viserys would need at least three or four minutes to swim the distance. He decided to use this time to destroy Falia. Ignoring the command not to use force, he rushed into the cabin, knowing that failing this task would likely ruin his chances of inheriting his house.

Falia, watching from the window, saw Viserys jump into the lake and disappear beneath the surface. She grew worried, thinking he might have gotten tangled in water plants. As her anxiety peaked, Andersen burst into the room, his eyes full of malice and desire. Asha tried to stop him, but he kicked her aside effortlessly.

"Prince Andersen, what are you doing? Ahh..." Falia cried out as he pushed her hard, causing her to fall backward. Her brown-blonde hair flew out, and her plump, snow-white breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

"Andersen! Do you know what you're doing? Your house will get into trouble because of this!" she shouted, trying to reason with him.

But Andersen paid no attention. He reached out to grab her breasts, and though she tried to shield herself, he forced her hands away with brute strength. Tearing off her outer garment, he revealed her breathtaking curves. 'No wonder she's Lady Moonshadow,' Andersen thought, willing to risk everything for such a beautiful woman.

"Andersen! Ahhh!" Falia struggled desperately, but he was much heavier and stronger. Her desperate resistance only fueled his animalistic desire.

Asha, still recovering from the pain, could only watch helplessly. Just as Andersen was about to make his next move, he suddenly felt a wet, iron-claw-like hand clamp around his neck. He was lifted off the ground and thrown hard onto the floor.

A silver light appeared before Falia, a scene she would remember for the rest of her life. Viserys pressed Andersen to the ground and whispered in his ear, "Tell me! Why are you targeting the workshop?!"

"Let me go!" Andersen shouted angrily, confident that no one would dare hurt him. However, his arrogance quickly turned to regret as he heard a sharp crack and felt searing pain in his shoulder. The intense agony left half of his body numb.

"Ahhhhh!" Andersen screamed, nearly tearing his throat.

"Are you going to talk?" Viserys demanded.

"You wouldn't dare kill me!"

Another crack echoed through the room, the pain so intense that Andersen almost passed out. But the next second, Viserys woke him up by pouring water on his face.

He then sat on Andersen's back, holding his legs and bending them backward. Andersen felt a sharp pain in his back, as if it were about to break.

"Still not talking? If you don't talk, I'll break your spine. You'll be bedridden for the rest of your life. And once your spine is broken, your thing will never stand up again. Think about it. If you're a cripple, will Lord Fregar still give you his house?"

The thought of being bedridden for life filled Andersen with dread. What house? What mission? None of it mattered if he could keep his limbs and live in comfort.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" Andersen finally surrendered, revealing Fregar's plan to Viserys.

After being helped up, Andersen noticed something wrong with his arm. He couldn't move it!

"My hand! My hand!" he cried out.

Viserys grabbed his left hand, twisted it, and then pushed it back into place. Another wave of pain surged through him, but Andersen found that he could move his hand again.

'This is witchcraft!' he gasped, realizing that the young man before him was far more terrifying than he had imagined. To save his other arm, Andersen revealed everything about the House Fregar's plan.

Each of the three families had their own courtesan. The current Sealord's family, House Antaryon, supported the "Poetess" Tilicia. However, the Antaryons already held the position of Sealord, so their support for Tilicia was moderate. The main competition was between the Fregar and Zalyne Houses.

House Zalyne, which supported Falia, was not very competitive due to their gradual decline. The Nightingale, Gortave, who had considerable support, was relatively active. From targeting Morel's workshop to setting up Falia with Andersen, House Fregar had been relentless.

However, Viserys' invention of the soap had given Falia a chance to turn the tables. House Fregar then gave Andersen greater support to use an "out-of-the-box" strategy to deal with Falia, clearing the way for the Nightingale to win the beauty pageant.

After Morel's workshop was shut down, Falia's chances of winning seemed slim. However, by sending a batch of soap to the Moonsingers Temple, she had gained a reputation for purity. Despite the uncertain future, House Fregar sent Andersen to act as a "double insurance."

"I'm asking you, was it you who had Danglar lend me money in the first place, trying to exploit me and then rob my sister?" Viserys demanded, his voice sharp with anger.

Falia, nearly recovered from her illness, understood as she listened to Andersen's confession. No wonder Viserys had been so agitated when she mentioned Dany. It was all connected to this betrayal. She looked at Viserys, who seemed ready to devour Andersen alive, and recalled the events of that day.

Andersen, accepting his fate, closed his eyes and nodded. However, instead of becoming angrier, Viserys let out a piercing laugh. "Hahaha." He patted Andersen on the shoulder three times.

"You have a lot of ideas. I'll give you a piece of advice: find a way, by any means necessary, to become the heir to House Fregar. Otherwise, I won't feel any sense of accomplishment when I kill you later."

Viserys said this to sow discord within House Fregar. He had just demonstrated his extraordinary strength, and the fact that he was only a teenager made him even more terrifying. In Braavos, a city renowned for its assassins, Andersen would need to fortify his defenses and secure the protection of a house head to stay alive. Otherwise, soon, Viserys would come for his head.

As Viserys contemplated what to do with Andersen, a threatening warning suddenly came from outside.

"Listen, assassins inside! Do not harm Prince Andersen, or you will be at war with Braavos! At war with the Sealord's Palace! You will be punished by death!"

"My ship is surrounded!" Falia exclaimed, looking out the window. She saw at least six or seven ships and dozens of guards outside, all wearing blue cloaks—the Sealord's guards. The leader, a young man with brown hair, held a bow and arrow, confident he could kill the assassin with a single shot if he showed his head.

Chapter 48: I Swim Fast

As the 10-Day Festival approached, the security burden in Braavos steadily increased. The Sealord dispatched part of his own guard to reinforce the city's security forces, appointing Joseon as the captain. Joseon, a disciple of Qarro Volentin, the First Sword of Braavos, was responsible for securing the area. Besides his official duty, he had another role—an admirer of Falia.

Joseon was acutely aware of Falia's recent troubles. She was unable to speak, and no one could reach her. For three days, Andersen had visited Falia's ship almost daily, causing Joseon immense anxiety. He longed to keep a constant watch on her ship, but Andersen's power deterred him from acting. These days, sleep eluded him. Thankfully, no unusual sounds came from Falia's ship; otherwise, his heart would have shattered.

When Joseon heard an assassin had boarded Falia's ship, his initial reaction was not worry but elation. It was finally an opportunity to see how Falia was doing. He hoped to catch a glimpse of her and even entertained the fleeting thought of eliminating both the assassin and Andersen. However, he quickly dismissed this notion, fearing the repercussions for himself and his teacher.

"People inside! Come out! If you don't come out, we're going to board the ship!" he commanded.

Soon, two men emerged. One was short, with black hair and brown eyes, dressed in disheveled white clothes. It was Andersen, whom Joseon had mentally killed a thousand times. The other man, with silver hair, purple eyes, and striking features, seemed vaguely familiar but unrecognizable to Joseon.

"My lord, I am here to keep an appointment, not to assassinate anyone. Lady Moonshadow can be my witness," Viserys said, smiling while keeping one hand on Andersen's shoulder, ready to use him as a human shield.

A gentle voice then came from inside the boat. "Is this Lord Joseon? This is Lord Viserys. He is indeed here to keep an appointment."

If Viserys hadn't killed Andersen's guards, Joseon might have believed him. Seeing that Viserys was still wet, Joseon declared, "Lady Falia, don't worry, I'll protect you!" His tone was so earnest that one might believe he would rush to become Falia's human shield if necessary.

"You said you were here for the appointment. Why aren't you on the boat?"

"Because I can swim fast!"

Joseon was puzzled. "?"

"I really came for the appointment. You can also ask Lord Andersen."

Andersen's mouth went dry, and he opened it to speak but found his throat tight. "Cough cough, that's true. He did come for the appointment. Maybe my escort misunderstood."

However, Joseon still wouldn't relent. "Let go of Lord Andersen!"

"Lord Andersen, it seems this lord thinks I'm holding you hostage," Viserys said, slapping Andersen on the butt and squeezing it hard before stepping back a few steps. Men know best how to please men, and of course, they also know how to disgust men.

"Don't talk nonsense, and I won't either," Viserys whispered in warning.

Andersen felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured into his stomach, his internal organs tangled together, but he couldn't let it show. At the same time, he felt a strong sense of humiliation. He didn't understand how the person he had so easily manipulated had suddenly become a threat to him. Now Viserys had the upper hand, and if word got out, it would be bad for the House. Whether for his own reputation or that of the House, he had to admit he had failed.

"Joseon! Put away your arrows. Viserys is my guest!" Andersen said.

'Viserys! I remember now; he is the Prince of Westeros! I must have been mistaken.'

Although all the signs indicate that the situation is not normal, since Andersen has spoken, he has no choice but to believe them.

"Oh, is it Lord Joseon, right? Lord Andersen is about to leave, you can see him off."

"Okay." Joseon subconsciously responded and told his men to row the boat. When his boat was about to reach Falia's flower boat, Joseon extended his hand and gently made a buffer, worried that his boat would damage Falia's. After the boat had stopped, his hand still wouldn't leave, as if it was stuck to the boat. Andersen got off the boat, and only after he was seated did Joseon let his hand leave the flower boat—first the palm, then the fingers, until the longest middle finger reluctantly brushed the bottom of the boat.

"Lord Andersen, be careful," Viserys waved at him, and Andersen forced a smile.

Joseon was truly confused. He had never seen anything like this before. Even after his boat had left a long way, he kept turning his head to look back. But Viserys, still standing on the boat, kept smiling and waving at Andersen from afar. Viserys did not enter the boat until they were about to land.

"Lord Andersen, are you all right?"

Andersen did not respond but left on his own. It was clear this matter was more complicated than it seemed, yet it was beyond Joseon's ability to interfere, so he had to let it go.

Back on the boat, Falia was applying medicine to Asha's hand. Asha's slender fingers were swollen like radishes, her black almond-shaped eyes filled with tears—whether from pain or feeling wronged, it was hard to tell. The two women looked like bullied kittens, snuggling together and tending to their wounds.

"Let me take a look," Viserys said.

Asha had witnessed Viserys's violent rescue and was deeply affected. A part of her heart that had always been introspective was now stirred. Though Viserys had offered to help, he was Falia's guest, and despite their deep relationship, their statuses differed. She glanced at Falia and, after receiving her consent, extended her hand to Viserys.

Asha felt her palms burning with pain, but when Viserys's cool palm touched hers, the pain eased. He focused on her middle, ring, and little fingers, which were swollen and made his palm look a bit fatter. Somehow, Asha hoped Viserys would notice her other hand, slender and white, rivaling Falia's.

Viserys gently lifted Asha's middle finger and asked, "Does it hurt?"

Asha shook her head.

Next, he touched her ring finger. As soon as he did, a layer of fine sweat appeared on Asha's forehead. "Oh no, it might be a broken bone."

"Broken bone?" Asha whispered, as if it were a serious matter.

Viserys looked around but saw no suitable material for a splint. Thinking quickly, he pulled out a few Braavosi iron coins from his pocket. These square coins, with their sharp edges, could be used as concealed weapons. Since improving his constitution and increasing his strength, he always carried some.

He tore a strip of cloth from his clothing, wrapped the coin in it, and then placed Asha's other hand on his shoulder. "It might hurt a little, so bear with it."

Viserys pulled hard, and Asha immediately turned pale but didn't cry out. Her fingers were connected, and the immense pain made her lose balance, falling into Viserys's arms. The maiden's scent filled his nostrils, and he felt her body's elasticity, causing him to become momentarily distracted.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed, placing his hand on Asha's shoulder to comfort her and calm himself. However, Viserys did not see that Falia, sitting across the table, looked on with envy. She noticed that the young man before her seemed to have undergone some changes, making it hard to resist wanting to get close to him. Before she could be noticed, Falia suddenly snapped out of it and tried to expel the thought from her mind. But it was like trying to drive away smoke with a stick—futile.

Chapter 49: Swordsmanship Competition

After briefly treating Asha's injuries, Viserys began to talk to Falia about the workshop. He explained everything that had transpired and also mentioned Dany, making Falia feel like they were now "in the same boat." Despite the dire situation, Falia felt safer than ever.

Her sense of security wasn't unfounded. Viserys shared some great news. "The workshop is gone, but the production of Moonshadow soaps will continue. Don't worry about how it will be produced. All orders will be delivered on time after a month. But you mustn't show any signs of abnormality. We still need to keep House Fregar people in the dark."

Falia knew it must have been very difficult for Viserys to accomplish this, but since he didn't want to elaborate, she didn't press him. She had been taught since childhood that "what you cannot hold in your hands is not real. But if she couldn't trust the man who had defeated an entire guard unit to save her, who could she trust?

Viserys had been talking since they arrived, and now that he was finished, the cabin fell silent.

"I heard from Morel that you're going to participate in the tournament?" Falia asked.

"Yes."

"Is it for the Valyrian steel sword?"

"No, I have other considerations."

"Do you have to participate?" Falia seemed to be trying to persuade him.

"I have to participate," Viserys said calmly but firmly.

"Generally, the participants in the tournament are the swordsmen of the three great houses or sellswords," Falia began to explain. "In fact, the tournament is also a way for the three great houses to resolve conflicts and grievances without bloodshed among the participating swordsmen, so..."

Falia was referring to the incident with Andersen, implying that if Viserys insisted on participating, he would definitely be targeted.

"Thank you for your concern. I have anticipated this situation," Viserys replied with a confident smile.

His master-level swordsmanship and over 90 Constitution gave him confidence. Those with better swordsmanship were not as physically fit due to age, and those with better physical fitness, like the Mountain or a Horselord, were rare.

Falia considered this and realized it was true. The young man before her had just defeated a guard unit by himself. It seemed no one could persuade him otherwise.

"If that's the case, then you must be careful. It is said that House Fregar is determined to win the championship of the celebration tournament."

"Thank you, Lady Moonshadow, for your reminder."

Hearing Viserys call her "Moonshadow" made Falia a bit dissatisfied, but she quickly composed herself and continued, "Because of recent events, you are the only one participating in the poetry competition in my name."

Falia's "flower-protecting swordsmen" had all fled, and those who sought only to play a few songs and indulge in pleasures had long since disappeared. They wouldn't dare participate in the poetry competition under Falia's name, fearing the wrath of House Fregar, which would jeopardize Falia's chances of winning the beauty pageant. Without a 'propaganda' campaign, she would be at a great disadvantage.

"Don't worry, I'm quite accomplished in poetry and music," Viserys reassured.

Falia shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. I meant that you can't do two things at once. I hope you can focus on the competition."

Asha, standing nearby, shared similar concerns. On one side was Falia, whom she had grown up with and held deep feelings for. On the other was Viserys, who made her heart flutter. It was really hard to choose.

Viserys didn't know how to comfort her. He had at least a hundred classics in his head, covering a wide range of themes and styles, including pop songs. While there was no need to perform them live, it was a good opportunity to gauge the market. As a courtesan, Falia would be very familiar with this.

Seeing Viserys still interested in the poetry competition, Falia didn't protest but patiently answered his questions. "The upper class in Braavos always prefers soothing and elegant music, while the lower class enjoys something more cheerful. In fact, I find that the so-called upper class isn't genuinely interested in elegant music, but they have to pretend they like it."

Viserys nodded, understanding. This was a common issue among the wealthy. In theory, the judges were all Braavosi nobles, but they also had to consider the preferences of the lower classes. If the winning piece wasn't conducive to singing, it would go against the festival's original intention. So, Viserys needed to choose music that appealed to both refined and common tastes. This meant excluding some highly artistic classics in favor of timeless old songs.

Just as Falia and Viserys were discussing Braavos' past works, Ranche's voice called from outside. "Lady Falia, are you... alright?"

Ranche had set out with Viserys, but due to restrictions on carriages imposed by Andersen, they had to continue on foot after landing. Ranche felt like he was accompanying a monster—Viserys, despite having only two legs, ran faster than a horse. He could only watch as Viserys sped off into the distance, shouting at him not to rush.

When Ranche arrived, all of Andersen's guards had retreated, leaving him feeling uneasy. 'Did Andersen succeed?' he wondered, his heart sinking. Already out of breath, the news of an assassin chilled him to the core. However, hearing Falia's voice brought him a sigh of relief.

Viserys, dressed in white and still wet, emerged from the cabin. "Ranche, don't worry. Lady Moonshadow is fine. Please take me there."

'He... swam here?' Ranche marveled.

At House Fregar fortress, in the Flower and Bird Garden, Tormo, the head of the family, sat in a small pavilion sipping sweet wine. The current Sealord had established a "Beast Garden" in the Sealord's Palace, while Tormo had created a "Bird Garden" for himself. This forest covered several acres, with birdcages of various colors hanging from the trees. The birdcages housed birds with colorful feathers and beautiful songs.

Despite the few white hairs on the sides of his head, Tormo's spirit was strong, and his gray eyes seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts. A guard with a black scarf brought Andersen to him. As Tormo's second son, Andersen was not highly regarded, and his recent failure left his future uncertain.

Andersen looked at his father's back, waiting for him to turn around, but Tormo remained facing away. This made Andersen's heart even more uneasy.

Chapter 50: Making the Most of Things

After a while, Tormo still showed no intention of speaking, and Andersen dared not move for fear of displeasing his father. Suddenly, the masked guard brought in a young man who resembled Andersen somewhat. Judging by his age, he was two years younger than Andersen—his younger brother, Tarth. The two brothers exchanged glances, devoid of affection.

"Father, we sent twelve swordsmen to join the sellswords, and seven of them have returned. I have recorded their characteristics so that you can choose the ones you want for our house."

"Hmm," Tormo replied indifferently, still not turning around. The two brothers stood by, waiting.

After a while, a slightly older man entered. He was the eldest brother, Vitus, looking to be about thirty-five or thirty-six, and appeared very shrewd. He glanced at his younger brothers with the same emotionless expression.

"Father."

Tormo finally turned around and looked at his three sons. "Look at the birds in the cage," he said, making Andersen tense up. His other two brothers also looked serious. They quickly observed the various birds as their father had instructed.

"Look at the bird in that cage. It's from the woods of Sothoryos. Look at its feathers. Aren't they beautiful?" Following Tormo's finger, the three brothers saw a bird with emerald green feathers and bright yellow wings. Its large beak looked a bit out of place, but the feathers were stunning.

"Now, look at the small white cage. It has a beautiful voice." They saw another small cage containing a drab-looking bird with an exceptionally beautiful voice, reminiscent of the tremolo in a violin.

"You may not think that all the birds in my garden are beautiful, but each has its own strengths. Some may not look good, but they have a beautiful voice. Some may not have a beautiful voice, but they have beautiful feathers." Tormo looked at each of his sons in turn, finally stopping at Andersen. "You, tell me, what are you good at?"

"Father..." Andersen's lips moved, but he didn't know what to say.

"The only thing you're good at is playing with women. I thought you could at least handle that, but now you can't even do that well. Tell me, are you worthy to be in the same yard as my birds?"

As he listened to Tormo, Andersen's face turned red and white in humiliation.

"But Father, what about Viserys..."

"What about Viserys? A lost dog is the reason for your failure!"

Hearing his father's reproach, Andersen pinched his index finger with the nail of his thumb, trying hard not to lose his temper.

"Since you can't do anything right, then pour the wine for me and your brothers." Tormo pointed at Tarth and Vitus with his chin. "Come on, sit over here."

This move was almost telling Andersen that he was even further from the inheritance, though Tormo didn't say it explicitly, leaving a sliver of hope. Andersen poured the sweet wine for his father and brothers, the blood on his index finger inevitably touching the wine glass, but the three ignored it as if they hadn't seen it.

"Father, our spy in House Zalyne reported that Viserys visited Methys a few days ago," Vitus said.

"Father, the Beggar King must be using Zalyne to fight against us!" Andersen spoke excitedly, but received a disgusted look from Tormo.

"You are a servant who pours wine. Is a servant allowed to interrupt?"

"I'm sorry, Father." Andersen quickly lowered his head and stepped back, his molars clenched, eyes flashing with anger, and his body trembling slightly.

With Tormo's permission, Vitus continued, "According to my investigation, it seems unlikely that House Zalyne has acquired whale oil and is prepared to fight us."

Tormo nodded, agreeing with his eldest son. Their spies had long since discovered the ingredients for the soap. However, the recipe was still unclear, and their people were experimenting.

What they didn't know was that whale oil was not necessarily needed to make soap—lard, sheep fat, cow fat, and even... To minimize a disaster, Viserys hadn't told Methys about the kind of "animal." But sooner or later, someone would discover that the fat of any "animal" could also be used to make soap.

In Tormo's opinion, House Zalyne would fall sooner or later. For nearly twenty years, no healthy offspring had reached adulthood, and now, although they were making a last-ditch effort, Tormo believed they would pray to him for a dignified end.

From then on, they would withdraw from the ranks of the three great families. Therefore, the possibility of them fighting against him was low. The lack of whale oil acquisition further confirmed his conjecture. As for Viserys, Tormo had not yet taken him seriously, believing that Viserys was still alive today purely because his second son was too useless.

"In addition, according to reports from our contacts close to the Sealord, the topics for the song competition are likely these," Vitus said, taking a note from his breast pocket and handing it to Tormo.

Tormo glanced at it and said, "Yes, send this to the Nightingale."

"Yes, Father."

Tormo then turned to his youngest son. "Since some people can't handle Viserys, I'll leave it to you."

Tarth sat up straight, like a soldier awaiting orders.

"I remember he also participated in the tournament, right?"

"Yes, Father."

"Well, you can arrange it. Since he dared to be an enemy of House Fregar, he must pay the price."

"Understood."

Tormo was determined to become the next Sealord. In his opinion, Braavos would one day belong to House Fregar. The 10-Day Festival was of great significance to Braavos. If Viserys died before the festival, it would probably not affect the event but would certainly be talked about. With the festival less than a month away, he decided to let Viserys be for now.

Viserys had not left the house for some time.

Almost everyone knew that he and House Fregar seemed to be in conflict. As a result, the house was quiet, with only two maids, a stable boy, the siblings, and Kyla remaining. Even Helbo had not been seen for a long time. Viserys did not mind; he had been busy with other things.

In front of him was a basin of water with a tiny tadpole in it, like a speck of ink. He was attempting to invade the tadpole's consciousness and control it. This would be his first attempt at warging.

Chapter 51: Seagull

I, Viserys, came to this world with three goals: ride a dragon, ride a dragon, and ride a dragon! But currently, I don't even have a dragon egg, and the Magic Tidal Wave is still a few years away. Becoming a Skinchanger is a very good alternative.

The Stark children can control direwolves and roam the wilderness. Some of the wildlings Beyond the Wall also possess this talent. Imagine invading the body of an eagle and feeling the power of the wind firsthand. In this era, such a talent is invaluable for a general. It's like having constant battlefield awareness, eliminating the fog of war. This is mastery at its finest.

But I can't yet invade an eagle, so I have to start with a tadpole. The lower the intelligence and the less developed the brain, the easier the animal is to invade. So, I chose the tadpole. It probably doesn't even have a developed brain, just a few nerves.

'Master, you have to imagine that you have entered the target's consciousness. Imagination is very important.'

Staring at the tadpole in the basin, I conjured up the experience Kyla had described. I imagined the sound of water flowing in my ears and that I had entered the basin. Suddenly, my eyes rolled back, and I slumped to the ground. The next moment, I realized my vision had become extremely poor. There was only faint light and shadow in front of me, and a slight sound of water flowing around me. There was no sound at all when I moved through the water.

"I did it!" I was excited to realize I had entered the body of the tadpole. I wiggled my tail and swam around the basin. I barely felt the basin walls when I touched them, indicating the tadpole's nervous system was not well developed.

After the initial excitement, the limited vision and poor sensory feedback became boring and unsettling. To return to my body, I had to imagine it. I pictured myself sitting on the sofa. Soon, my eyes returned to normal, and I moved my body—Viserys again.

I opened my panel. My Constitution was now almost 87.9. In ten days or so, I would reach 90, giving me a better chance of winning the tournament.

'What should I name the sword if I win it?' I wondered.

Lost in thought for a moment, Viserys continued to review his other attributes:

Spirit: 100

Health: 77

Magic: 27.9

Thanks to his continuous chanting of the Moonsingers' songs, Viserys's spirit was the first attribute to reach 100. It seemed to be the upper limit, as if restricted by something invisible. He had no idea what it was.

His magic value had also increased significantly, from a dozen points initially to nearly 30 now. The Moonsingers' songs were indeed useful. He had planned to visit the Moonsingers' Temple for higher-level chants or the Temple of the Lord of Light for something like a "Song of Fire," but various events had prevented him from doing so. He'd have to find another time. For now, he knew the value of these things and didn't need to worry.

"It seems that magic is consumed during warging. So, it costs magic as well," Viserys mused, glancing at his stats. Sure enough, a new skill had appeared:

Skinchanger: Beginner (12/100)

He smirked, then looked at his other skills and started reallocating points. He hadn't improved his swordsmanship recently, so his other skills had naturally gained a lot of proficiency. After nearly ten minutes of clicking, Viserys had accumulated more than 600 points of general proficiency.

Skinchanger: Proficient (142/1000)

As his Skinchanger skill improved, Viserys felt a deeper understanding of consciousness invasion. A small tadpole was no longer sufficient for him. He got up and walked to the small nest behind the door, where a wounded seagull that had nearly recovered was resting. He had found it at the pier, its leg broken by a child's stone. He had brought it back, nursed it, and developed a bond with it.

As mentioned in the original tales, the ease of consciousness invasion is related to the closeness between humans and animals. Initially, the seagull, nicknamed 'Fries,' had been resistant to Viserys. It was a free seagull, resistant to being tamed. However, food and shelter had softened its stance. Now, as soon as Viserys approached, the seagull nuzzled its head close to him, allowing him to stroke it.

"Little seagull, I'm coming in!"

Viserys soon entered the seagull's body—well, his consciousness did.

Viserys looked at his own fallen body and thought, 'Damn, I'm so handsome! A beautiful face in the prime of life!' After admiring himself, he tried to take a few steps around the room. Because of his smaller size, the room now seemed much larger, transforming from a standard bedroom into a small theater.

He instinctively spread his wings, feeling the power of the wind lift him. His body soared into the air, the white figure hovering in the room. What had once felt spacious now seemed a bit cramped from this new perspective.

Viserys, now in the seagull's body, landed safely on the window sill and looked out at the sky. It was clear and blue, with white clouds floating by and a few birds flying overhead. The sight made him feel happy and relaxed.

"The sky! I'm coming!"

He flapped his wings, jumped forward, and his body drew a white arc in mid-air, then shot straight up into the sky.

"Wow~ Take off!"

He squawked, feeling exhilarated. It was like the first time Tony Stark put on the Mark One suit. The power to fly into the sky and dive to the ground made him feel invincible.

After ascending a few hundred meters, Viserys looked down and saw Braavos from a bird's-eye view for the first time. Though it was called the "City of a Thousand Islands," most were just small rocks and mounds. The city was primarily composed of four larger islands. He saw the Long Canal that ran through Braavos and the white Temple of the Moonsingers.

He continued to fly, passing the three great houses, the blue Sealord's Palace, and the red-rocked Temple of the Lord of Light. The sights flashed by beneath him.

"Aegon the Conqueror, is this what you saw?" he murmured, flying towards the Titan of Braavos. A journey that would normally take nearly two hours by carriage or boat took him less than twenty minutes. He flew straight up to the top of the giant statue.

The gray-green statue's face was blurred, likely due to its immense height and lack of maintenance. Viserys soon arrived at the top, where a few seagulls were cooing as if conversing.

One of the seagulls noticed him and moved closer. 'This seagull is so annoying,' Viserys thought. 'Wait, could it be that I am... a female seagull?'

He glanced down at the seagull, then flapped his wings and flew away. However, the seagull seemed particularly fond of him and followed closely behind.

Chapter 52: Viserys in the Basin

As the 10-day celebration approached, Braavos grew busier with each passing day. Coachmen and boatmen worked tirelessly from morning to night, eating, drinking, defecating, and sleeping on their boats, all in a bid to make more money during this lucrative period. Prices of all goods soared, and the shrewd made a profit during the festivities. The temples and shrines saw an influx of visitors, adding to the city's bustling atmosphere.

Although the sale of human beings was not allowed in Braavos, it boasted the most developed sex and theater industries. The theaters were packed, and the girls were making substantial earnings. The sewers of various brothels had become nutrient-rich petri dishes. This vibrant scene extended beyond the city to the numerous ports.

The large and small sailing ships, adorned in various colors—black, white, purple, and green—seemed like lace on the land. When they lowered their sails, a forest of bare masts formed. Sailors and passengers moved back and forth on the ships, resembling fat maggots wriggling about from a distance. Some ships had particularly high bows, indicating they had come from Slaver's Bay, while others, bearing family crests, appeared more respectable, suggesting origins in Westeros.

The seagull, having finally escaped his first suitor, perched on the mast of a ship, surveying the scene. He noticed a ship with black sails painted with golden skulls—the symbol of the Golden Company, a group of sellswords founded by a bastard son of a Targaryen king.

After the founder's death, his head was boiled, plated with gold, and hung on the company's banner, a tradition continued by his successors, creating this unique emblem.

'A bunch of lunatics,' The seagull remarked.

He soon saw the banners of several other mercenary companies, such as the "Company of the Cat," the "Windblown," and the "Second Sons." Each large mercenary company had its own ship. Though not always big, they were branded and recognizable.

There were three reasons why these groups came to Braavos. The first was obvious: they came to have fun. Sellswords, who risk their lives to make money, naturally wanted to partake in the festivities. The second reason was to participate in the tournament. The third was to scout new recruits for their own mercenary groups, based on the performance of competitors in the tournament.

Viserys also had such plans. If he could achieve a high ranking, the doors of all the major mercenary groups would open to him. If anyone dared to mention the banquet of the crown, they would fight. These mercenaries were a relatively pure bunch. They didn't care who the recruits were—commoners, nobles, or fugitives. They didn't care about a recruit's lineage or which house they came from. Their business was only one thing—heads!

"Brothers! Can you kill? If so, the mercenary arena awaits!"

Viserys hadn't yet decided which mercenary group to join, and he had one major concern: Dany.

He considered leaving Dany in Braavos with Methys, but there were too many variables. Without him by her side, the risk of assassination attempts on Dany would increase. She was a key part of his plan, and losing her would be catastrophic. He might end up like Igor Rivers. Even if he had to abandon Dany, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

In Braavos, he had no one he could trust. Even if House Zalyne and the others decided to fight House Fregar, Dany would never be safe. Therefore, he concluded that he would have to join the sellswords with his family.

As he pondered all this, the seagull heard a familiar voice in his ear. "Brother! Brother! Wake up! What's wrong with you?"

The seagull looked around and realized it was a telepathic message from his main body. He tried to transfer his consciousness back. "Brother! Brother! Lady Kyla! Come quickly!"

Dany had remembered that Viserys was in the room, so she wanted to ask him a question. But no matter how hard she knocked, there was no response. Worried, she opened the door and saw Viserys lying on the ground. Her heart dropped. If she lost her brother, she would have nothing left.

Her voice grew more urgent as she called out for Kyla. When Kyla saw Viserys collapsed on the ground, she hurried over to check on him. "He's warging?! So fast!"

Kyla was shocked. She had managed to warg into a fish for the first time, but that was more than three years after she had first encountered warging. She looked around the room and noticed a basin of water on the table. She approached it and saw the tadpoles swimming inside.

"Lady Dany, don't worry, Lord Viserys is in the basin!" Kyla exclaimed.

Dany blinked in confusion. "?"

"I mean his consciousness is in the basin, or rather in the tadpoles," Kyla explained.

"??" Dany was still baffled.

Kyla, unsure how to make it clearer, shouted into the basin, "Lord Viserys! Lord Viserys! Do you remember what I told you? You have to imagine it! Feel it!"

She overlooked one critical problem—tadpoles have no hearing. Dany watched Kyla shout at the basin, finding her behavior incomprehensible. Helplessly, she called out to Viserys in her own way, over and over again.

"Lady Dany, I have an idea," Kyla said, carrying the basin to Viserys.

"What is it?" Dany asked, her face expressionless.

Kyla propped up the back of Viserys's head with her knee and opened his mouth. She scooped up a tadpole from the water and put it into his mouth.

"You... this..." Dany began, watching as the dark, candy-sized object disappeared down Viserys's throat. But after a long time, there was still no reaction.

"Lady Dany, let's try pouring water into Lord Viserys' mouth," Kyla suggested.

"Will this... work?" Dany asked hesitantly.

"Let's try it," Kyla urged.

Dany, uncertain and out of options, followed Kyla's instructions. Kyla held Viserys's mouth open while Dany prepared to pour the muddy water in. Just then, Viserys's purple pupils returned to focus.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw Dany holding a basin, ready to pour water into his mouth. Horrified, Viserys struggled to sit up. "What are you doing?!"

Dany, overjoyed to see him awake, burst into tears and rushed into his arms. "I'm fine, I'm fine," Viserys reassured her, patting her back gently while looking questioningly at Kyla.

Kyla, calm and proud, explained, "You must have received a psychic message from the tadpoles. I fed you the tadpoles, and you woke up."

"What? Say that again! What did you feed me?!" Viserys exclaimed in disbelief.

Chapter 53: Constitution 90+

After much effort, Viserys managed to vomit up the tadpole he had swallowed. The tiny creature, which resembled a speck of ink, twitched once before going still. Viserys felt its death instantly.

As if sensing something amiss, he opened his panel and immediately saw the issue:

Spirit: 99.8

The death of the tadpole, which had paired with him, had cost him 0.2 Spirit. Viserys instantly felt his mind wasn't as sharp as before. If a mere tadpole caused a loss of 0.2 Spirit, it was no wonder Skinchangers went mad if they lost their animal companions. If the seagull had died, he might have lost seven or eight points of Spirit.

Fortunately, the seagull had just reached adulthood and should live for a long time. Additionally, as long as they weren't paired for too long, their connection would weaken, and its death would have a lesser impact on him. For now, though, he needed to pair with it frequently for both spying and defense.

Viserys quickly realized another problem. Kyla frequently killed her animal companions, even though they were lobsters with almost no intelligence. She had likely lost a lot of Spirit as well. Maybe she should practice the Moonsingers' songs to recover. Otherwise, her diminishing intelligence might influence Dany.

Despite the tadpole incident, Viserys didn't blame Kyla. Instead, he decided to teach Dany how to warg. In both the original novel and the TV series, the dragons she hatched were sometimes disobedient. What if the dragon she hatched in the future was too violent and threw her out of the sky? She was just a little girl.

Over the next few days, Viserys began instructing Dany in the art of warging.

...

As the celebration approached, time seemed to fly by. In the blink of an eye, only three days remained. Some people, unable to contain their excitement, began wearing masks and parading in the streets.

In the early hours of the morning, after practicing the Moonsingers' songs, Viserys knew it was time. He opened his panel to check his constitution data:

Constitution: 89.78

'Add some points.' he thought.

With experience from the last time, Viserys prepared a large bathtub. He jumped in and added the general attribute points he had earned to his Constitution. Instantly, he felt his heart pounding as if it had taken an aphrodisiac. The blood in his veins raced, thundering in his ears. His normally pale skin began to glow, and the cool water in the tub warmed under the influence of his body temperature.

Soon, white steam began to rise from his head. Fortunately, he didn't experience the unpleasant side effects he had before. After nearly an hour, the intense feeling of enhancement gradually faded. In addition to increased strength, Viserys felt significant improvements in his heart and lung function.

He immersed himself in the bathtub, holding his breath for one minute, then two, five... He finally emerged after 25 minutes. 'This is definitely not my limit!' he thought. He guessed he could hold his breath for 40 to 50 minutes and remain active underwater for more than ten minutes. It was almost unbelievable.

When his body broke through to eighty, the main improvements were in strength and explosive power. Now, breaking through to ninety, the improvements focused on stamina and recovery—broadly referred to as endurance. With super endurance, he could launch fierce attacks on his enemies continuously. In other words, he could use his ultimate move without rest.

Viserys looked down at his sculpted muscles and smiled contentedly. Although he had the speed of a "fast type," he also possessed the strength of a "power type." His tall stature suggested that a weapon like a hammer might suit him best—one blow to silence his enemies. Of course, he could also choose other weapons, such as a Halberd, a weapon requiring immense strength and skill, capable of slashing, stabbing, chopping, and smashing.

'It is invincible,' he thought.

...

The next morning, a carriage stopped in front of Viserys's house. It was from House Zalyne, and out stepped Pyrena, Methys's personal maid and bodyguard. Without waiting for Viserys to greet her, she walked straight into the living room.

"Lady Pyrena, are you here to talk about the Moonshadow?" Viserys asked.

"That's right," Pyrena replied with a nod. "My lady instructed me to inform you that all the Moonshadows will be delivered this afternoon, and all House Zalyne shops will start selling them."

Viserys nodded, understanding that House Zalyne was preparing to compete with House Fregar for the position of Sealord.

"In addition," Pyrena continued, "the money you are owed has been deposited in the Iron Bank for you by Lady Zalyne. There are 20,000 gold dragons in total. Here is your account password and information." She handed an envelope to Viserys, sealed with the black lacquer of House Zalyne.

"Thank the lady for her generosity," Viserys said. He estimated that the initial wave of sales wouldn't amount to 20,000 gold dragons, so the extra was likely Methys's way of taking care of him and perhaps for Dany's sake.

He anticipated that within three to five years, others would start making soap for profit, potentially impacting his business, but he would be satisfied with earning a hundred thousand gold dragons.

"This is what you deserve. Additionally, my lady hopes you will reconsider participating in the tournament."

"What does she mean?" Viserys asked, raising an eyebrow.

"First, the House Zalyne doesn't need further explanation, correct?" Viserys nodded.

"Second, many sellswords participating in the tournament are looking to take your life."

Viserys quickly understood. Many likely had the idea of killing him to claim a reward from Robert. Although Robert hadn't ordered it, this was a rare and legal opportunity. Many sellswords still harbored resentment from the Crown Banquet and were eager for another chance at him.

Viserys smiled. "Thank you, my lady, I will remember your concern. But I will show them what it means to be the reincarnation of Lu Bu."

'Who is Lu Bu?' Pyrena was puzzled.

...

As the celebration approached, the workshop was also nearing its delivery deadline. However, their raw materials had been destroyed, and they were severely short of manpower. Faced with numerous demands for compensation due to breach of contract, the Morel's family had lost hope. Viserys's soap had been their chance for revival, but the outcome seemed bleak.

At this moment, Morel sat tearfully with his son, a small bottle of poison from Lys in front of him, giving his final instructions. "Rabbi, my son, this is my last moment. If I drink this poison, I can buy you some time. With your reputation, you can borrow from the Iron Bank. Maybe in ten or twenty years, we can pay off the debt. Remember, don't let our family name be disgraced."

"Father," Rabbi wept bitterly.

He thought that if it weren't for the so-called Moonshadow, their family and the workshop could still be sold.

They might not be rich, but they could at least live comfortably. But now even his father's life was at stake. But who could he blame? Viserys? Himself? House Fregar? Does he even dare?

"My dear boy, let me look at you one last time," Morel said, reaching out to touch his son's cheek. Just then, a shout came from outside:

"Master Morel! The Moonshadows arrived!"

!?

Father and son looked at each other in shock and disbelief.

Chapter 54: The Sealord’s Palace

The actions of House Zalyne came as a significant surprise to Tormo. The Moonshadow, which had remained silent for most of the month, had suddenly made a strong comeback. They had managed to keep a major secret from everyone.

There were two key factors in the competition for the position of Sealord among the three great houses. The first was the attitude of the current Sealord. If he were to support one house over the others, either explicitly or implicitly, the likelihood of that house being elected would increase. The second factor was the opinions of the many merchants in Braavos, which the three families had to consider.

Previously, House Fregar had been determined to secure the next Sealord position. However, both the current Sealord and the merchants had been somewhat aggressive in their attitudes and methods. Now, with House Zalyne choosing to stand up and fight, many variables had been introduced. If the Zalyne and Antaryon families joined forces, it could shift the sentiments of other merchant groups.

Tormo, realizing the potential shift in power dynamics, ordered his bodyguard, "Prepare the carriage. I'm going to see that old bastard Roth!" Roth was the current leader of House Zalyne.

...

Purple Harbor, Braavos: The Sealord's Palace

The Sealord's Palace, one of Braavos's most iconic landmarks, boasts a design of extraordinary luxury. The entire building is painted a deep sea blue, and about a meter above the ground, the corners are inlaid with shells, conch, and coral. Through the blue gate, the orderly guards stand as a testament to the strictness of the place.

As the "bastard daughter of Valyria," the palace also incorporates dragon elements. A dragon statue lies at the center of the Sealord's Palace, but this dragon has a tail as thick as a fish's fin and webbed claws. It is a fusion of dragon and fish, fitting the "bastard daughter" theme perfectly.

The Sealord's palace has a lake connected to the outer waterways, where the Sealord's sail boat is moored. From bow to stern, blue smiling face masks hang in a long row, resembling a 'flower skirt' that adorns the yacht. On ordinary days, Sealord is often on the boat.

A middle-aged man with brown eyes and a serious expression walked into the palace. He was the Sealord's First Sword, Qarro Volentin. Handing a small scroll to the Sealord, took it and looked at it, a distinct smile spreading across his face, even adding a hint of red to his pale complexion.

Qarro read the note, and his already shiny forehead, which had receded significantly, seemed to shine even more. "Lord, it seems that all of this is because of that Viserys."

"I thought that after the Coronation Banquet, he would be hit hard and might not recover for the rest of his life. I never thought that... this Targaryen is quite something," Ferrego said with a smile.

In just six months, Ferrego had heard about Viserys Targaryen three times. The first was when Banergar of the Fierce Fish Company came to him. The second was when he heard about the production of soap. And now, the third time.

When the "invention" of soap first emerged, Ferrego thought that House Fregar would definitely be involved. But he never imagined that Viserys would not only remain unafraid but also manage to contact House Zalyne. He had even sent someone to find out about Viserys's condition. Since House Fregar came knocking, it seemed Viserys had withdrawn into seclusion. Ferrego thought he had given in, but he had actually been planning a big move.

"But how did he convince House Zalyne to help him against House Fregar in just one month?" Ferrego wondered, frowning as he thought it over.

Unable to find an answer, he decided to put the matter aside for the time being. As the Sealord, he always had the initiative, so he would wait and see what happened.

Although Ferrego was not in the best of health at the moment, he was confident he would remain the Sealord for at least another six or seven years.

At that moment, another official entered, carrying a wooden tray adorned with a dozen white shells.

"Lord, it's time to choose the topic for the poem."

"Hmm," Ferrego responded, noting that three of the shells had been carefully placed in a more prominent position. His eyes flashed with understanding, but then, as if making a sudden decision, he shuffled the shells like playing a game. After a moment, he picked out three and threw them onto the table.

He opened the shells to reveal a few words in Valyrian...

...

When Helbo realized that House Fregar didn't seem to care about him, he returned to his own residence.Learning about the dire situation of Morel and his son, he felt proud of his decision to cut ties with Viserys. Compared to their devastation, he had only lost some money. The one percent he had invested in the workshop now seemed like life insurance.

Taking a sip of Arbor wine, he sighed, "Damn, this wine is really expensive!" As the celebration approached, wine prices in Braavos had skyrocketed. Sellswords alone had increased the city's wine consumption by 40%, not to mention the influx of other tourists. What Helbo once drank casually was now a luxury.

At least he could still sit and drink. Just then, Helbo's servant entered, carrying a heavy box. "M'lord, this is your 'bonus' from the workshop."

"What?" Helbo exclaimed, bewildered. "The Morel workshop?"

The servant nodded. "Yes, M'lord. The Morel workshop."

"But... How is this possible?" Helbo took the box, finding it unexpectedly heavy. Opening it, he discovered it was full of gold dragons—at least 400 of them. "How is this possible?!"

Helbo was stunned. He had visited the workshop, seen the workers fleeing, the raw materials gone, and the Morel father and son facing ruin. "How did they deliver the goods?"

"I heard that the House Zalyne's carriage brought the Moonshadows to the workshop. After that... I don't know much more," the servant admitted, puzzled.

"Zalyne, Zalyne, Zalyne..." Helbo muttered agitatedly, repeating the name. "Could it be Viserys? How could he... this..."

A figure quickly formed in his mind, but he didn't want to believe it. Yet, the gold dragons before him were undeniable. If Viserys had indeed secured the support of House Zalyne, the production of soap would remain unaffected, and Helbo should have been profiting from dividends.

Realizing he hadn't just lost a few gold dragons but potentially thousands, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. "Hurry up and prepare a carriage for me! I'm going to see Lord Viserys!"

Chapter 55: Heart Rain

When Helbo rushed to Viserys's residence, he could only see Dany practicing swordsmanship on the lawn through the gate. As he attempted to get her attention, a voice from behind startled him. The voice was gloomy and cold, sending a shiver down his spine.

"L-Lady Kyla. I'm here to visit Lord Viserys."

"Lord Viserys is not here. What is your business?" Kyla replied. As Dany's personal bodyguard, Viserys had instructed her to be cautious of Helbo, so her expression was wary and cold.

Helbo's heart sank a little. "Well, it's nothing important. I just wanted to pay a simple visit," he said with a forced smile.

"Lord Viserys has gone out."

"Oh? Where?" Helbo inquired.

Kyla's cold stare remained fixed on him, offering no response.

Realizing his rudeness, Helbo quickly apologized. "When will Lord Viserys be back?"

"I don't know."

Faced with Kyla's frosty demeanor, Helbo felt a chill of dread. He had underestimated Viserys too many times. First, he thought Viserys wouldn't escape the Fierce Fish Company, only for Viserys to earn the moniker "Fierce Fish Eater." Then he dismissed Viserys's soap venture, which turned into a huge success. Finally, he believed Viserys had doomed himself by offending House Fregar, only to see him align with House Zalyne.

The faint spark of goodwill between Helbo and Viserys had been completely extinguished, but he still felt compelled to try once more. He took a small box from his pocket and handed it to Kyla. "This is a small gift for Lord Viserys. Please give it to him."

Kyla opened the box, revealing a black dragonbone ring set with a ruby. "That's fine. If there's nothing else, you can go now."

"Oh, okay." Helbo returned to his carriage, dejected that he hadn't seen Viserys. As the coachman prepared to leave, Helbo suddenly said, "Take the carriage to the locust tree in front. I'll be waiting there today."

"Yes, M'lord. That'll be three gold dragons."

"Three gold dragons! Are your horse's hooves made of gold, or are the wheels made of gold?!"

"M'lord, you have to consider the time. If it were any other day, I wouldn't dare ask you for three gold dragons."

"Okay, okay! Three gold dragons it is."

Helbo reluctantly handed over the three gold dragons. He was determined to wait there until Viserys returned.

...

At this time, Viserys was on Falia's ship, learning about the poetry competition. This competition was not as he had originally understood. It was more like a variety show, with contestants taking turns on stage and judges offering their evaluations. Poets and singers would submit their own songs, which would then be performed by the singers and musicians of the Sealord's Palace.

During the competition, musicians and singers would be spread throughout Braavos, with the highest concentration near the Titan of Braavos. The judging criteria were based on the number of performances each piece received, with votes cast by anyone willing to pay. If a song garnered enough performances, it advanced to the next round; otherwise, it was eliminated. Essentially, it functioned like a recommendation mechanism, ensuring fairness even if someone wanted to spend a lot of money to support a contestant.

The Ten-Day Festival's three competitions were interspersed throughout the schedule. The general arrangement was: song, competition, competition, song, competition, competition, song, competition, competition, celebration.

"In other words, except for the first round's theme, which will be given a day in advance, the other two rounds will be announced the night before?" Viserys asked.

"That's right. Braavos wants to see better works on the first day, so they provide more time," Falia patiently explained. Asha watched Brother Viserys intently.

"Actually, I still suggest you give up, Lord Viserys. Participating in two competitions at the same time will be very tiring," Falia advised.

Viserys smiled crookedly, "Lady Moonshadow, don't worry. The first round's topic is the sea, right? I think I've already written it."

"Already?" Falia was skeptical. She had just told Viserys the topic less than twenty minutes ago. Choosing her words carefully, she said, "Master Viserys, if your song is too similar to existing songs, you may be disqualified." She almost said "plagiarism."

Viserys pointed to the harp hanging on the wall. "I'll play a song for you to hear."

"Okay," Falia nodded, but Asha didn't move to get it.

"Asha!"

"Huh?" Asha, lost in thought while staring at Viserys, quickly recovered. "Oh, okay." Realizing her distraction, she blushed and handed the harp to Viserys.

Viserys examined the harp, noting its resemblance to a guitar or ukulele. Plucked instruments were familiar to him; he had practiced extensively while chasing girls in school. As he tuned the instrument, Falia and Asha watched with anticipation.

"I'm going to start now."

"Okay."

Viserys took a moment to compose himself, then began to play the prelude. The sound evoked images of a vast sea and sky, with lingering notes suggesting a story about to unfold.

(Music: "心雨" (Xīn Yǔ) / Heart Rain by Jacky Cheung (Zhang Xueyou) and Su Rui)

"~Bitter sand,

The feeling of pain blowing against the face,

Like a father's scolding,

A mother's crying, Forever unforgettable.~"

As Viserys played and sang, the two girls began to envision a young man running along the beach. He was filled with longing and hope for the future, but he also faced the harsh blows of reality. At a crucial moment, a determined sailor with a strong physique encouraged him to keep going. Bolstered by the sailor's encouragement, the young man set sail on the winds of life. However, he inevitably lost his way on the sea of existence. The sailor then reappeared to guide him back on course.

Viserys's voice and the melody of the song naturally spread beyond the cabin. Although Joseon, patrolling the lake at a distance, couldn't hear the lyrics, the tune reached his ears, invigorating his men. Some of the more sensitive guards even found tears welling up in their eyes.

'You are worthy of Lady Moonshadow,' Joseon thought with emotion. But then, noticing Viserys's attire, he wondered if the song was his own creation. 'No way! Absolutely not!' Joseon quickly dismissed the thought.

When Viserys finished his song, Falia and Asha had a different look in their eyes. The guarded walls around their hearts had loosened considerably. As they gazed at Viserys's warm smile, they couldn't help but think that spending a night with such a man might be a very good idea.

Chapter 56: Company of the Cat

In the afternoon, Viserys left Falia's ship. Asha stood on the bow, watching him depart for a long time until the silver-white figure disappeared from view.

"You seem to have a good impression of Viserys," Falia said teasingly.

"Yes, it would be nice to marry a man like him," Asha replied straightforwardly, making Falia pause. She remembered that Asha had Dothraki blood.

"I want to lie with him on the Great Grass Sea," Asha continued, her excitement growing. "Him riding on top of me or me riding on top of him, under the stars, in the morning light, in the setting sun..." Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, her enthusiasm bordering on madness.

"Okay, okay, stop," Falia interrupted, though the vivid scene had already formed in her mind.

The Dothraki worship the sky and believe that all important and sacred things should be done under its presence, whether it is birth or death. They also see reproduction as a sacred act. To be united with one's loved one under the open sky is a wonderful and happy thing.

...

Recently, Viserys had been able to switch his consciousness quickly between his body and his animal familiar, a skill honed through relentless practice. It now took no more than two seconds. His warging was more pronounced, enabling him to return instantly if something happened to his body. No longer did he worry about being stuck with a mouthful of tadpoles.

The sun was setting, and dusk was approaching, but there was still enough light. Once he was in the carriage, Viserys transferred his consciousness to the seagull. The seagull flapped its wings and, after about ten minutes, he spotted their home. He began to descend, noticing three carriages parked in front of the house and a crowd of people pushing and shoving.

Viserys's seagull had a bad feeling, so he accelerated and landed on the roof of one of the carriages. He quickly recognized a few familiar faces among the crowd, including Morel, his son Regis, and Helbo. Their presence wasn't surprising; it was likely a matter of gratitude and flattery. However, something seemed off about the situation.

Helbo and the Morels were standing at the gate, trying to prevent another group from entering. This group consisted of five or six rough-looking individuals with brutal faces and equally rude behavior.

"You can't go in!" Morel insisted.

"I heard this is the home of the Beggar King! We're just here to visit," retorted the yellow-bearded leader, trying to force his way in.

"But Lord Viserys isn't home!" Regis interjected.

"It's okay, we can wait. Besides, how can you make guests wait outside?" The leader pushed forward, but Regis and Morel blocked him.

Viserys's seagull flew up to get a better view inside the house. He saw Dany leading Kyla out. Several members of the rough-looking group noticed Dany, and their expressions shifted from surprise to greed.

"My lords, my brother is not at home. If you have any business, you can speak to him when he returns," Dany said firmly.

The yellow-bearded man sneered, "Oh! This is the Beggar King's sister, Dany, right? If your brother isn't here, you can come with us. Our captain will treat you as a VIP."

Dany felt a wave of nausea at his lecherous expression. This yellow-bearded man was from the mercenary group called the Company of the Cat. Their captain, Bloodbeard, was notorious for his cruelty and bloodlust. Few knew his real name. He despised peace, reveled in war, and had a notorious appetite for beautiful women, good wine, and banquets.

Bloodbeard had just arrived in Braavos when House Fregar approached him with an offer: cause trouble for Viserys in exchange for a handsome sum. The opportunity to indulge his vices while getting paid was too tempting. He assumed that Dany, as a princess, would be a prize, so he sent his men to find her.

The laws of Braavos forbade human trafficking, but Bloodbeard and his men saw this as an invitation, not an abduction. With House Fregar backing them, they could always flee if things became difficult. Moreover, Robert Baratheon was offering a reward for the capture of Viserys and his sister. They planned to take Dany by force under the guise of an invitation, hoping to lure Viserys out of hiding.

"Sorry, but if there is an invitation, you will have to wait until my brother returns," Dany said, her voice steady despite her nerves.

"Ha, that won't work. Our captain doesn't like men," the yellow-bearded man retorted, his companions laughing heartily behind him.

"Get out of my way! Do you want to die stopping the Company of the Cat?" Yellowbeard threatened, his tone menacing.

Helbo hesitated, his urge to retreat growing strong.

He was part of a vibrant social group at best, while Yellowbeard and his men were hardened criminals who lived by the sword. But then he thought of this as his chance to repair his relationship with Viserys. Despite his fear, he stood his ground.

Unlike Helbo, the Morel and his son were resolute. They knew that without Viserys, they would have been long dead. They owed him a debt of gratitude, and now was the time to repay it.

"Get rid of these meddlers!" Yellowbeard ordered. He had brought the best fighters with him, and Helbo and the others were no match. They couldn't use weapons, but their fists were just as deadly. In a matter of moments, they had knocked most of the defenders to the ground. Only Regis, who had learned a few moves from Viserys, managed to put up a fight, but he was soon overwhelmed as his companions were quickly beaten down.

Realizing the danger, Kyla tried to drag Dany away. "Don't let them get away!" Yellowbeard shouted. He and his men began slamming against the wooden gate, which groaned under the impact and would likely not hold for long.

Viserys regained consciousness and quickly assessed the situation. He pulled out a few gold dragons, leaned out of the carriage, and waved them in the driver's face. "Run as fast as you can! Do you understand?"

"Yes! Go!" The driver, feeling the heavy weight of the coins, raised his whip high. The carriage suddenly accelerated, causing the ride to become more violent as pedestrians scrambled to get out of the way.

"Company of the Cat, I'll deal with you first!" Viserys muttered, a flame of anger blazing in his eyes. His heart pounded with adrenaline. Today, he wouldn't rest until he had smashed a few heads.

Chapter 57: Kyla, Use Your Head

Kyla is merely an assassin, not suited for frontal combat, much less protecting Dany. As the gate threatened to break under the attackers' pressure, she swiftly took Dany upstairs and locked the door.

'Kyla, use your head! You need to climb over the wall!' Viserys' Seagull squawked in frustration at Kyla's futile efforts.

A loud crash followed. The iron gate gave way, and Yellowbeard approached the front door with his men, shouting, "Prince Dany! We have prepared a carriage for you! Come with us! Our captain is waiting for you!"

Viserys' Seagull, perched on the wall, mused that a parrot might be a better companion next time. Still, he was relieved when Dany calmly retrieved her crossbow and a poisoned arrow from under her bed. No longer just a simple wooden arrow, it now had an iron tip.

Seeing this, Viserys' Seagull sighed in relief, almost smiling like a human. 'The child has grown up!' he thought.

Dany calmly leaned out of the window and aimed at the mercenaries below. "Haha, it seems Prince Dany is a bit impatient!" Yellowbeard taunted, but was silenced by the swish of the crossbow. He felt a foreign object in his throat and, clutching at it, realized a bolt had pierced his neck through his fluffy beard.

'Well done!' Viserys' Seagull thought, wanting to give Dany a thumbs up. As Yellowbeard fell, the remaining mercenaries sought cover. However, Dany and Kyla were relentless, leaving only two mercenaries standing, one wounded in the leg.

"We're leaving! Don't shoot!" one of the mercenaries shouted, shocked by the little girl's composure. Outside, Morel and his son were equally stunned. Dany was no longer the shy girl she had been.

Helbo, who hadn't seen Dany for over a month, was also surprised by her transformation. But the most satisfied was Viserys. The time he had invested in training her had paid off. Although Dany wasn't a natural killer like Kyla, she had grown much stronger through her training. Viserys' goal was never to make her a killer or assassin, but to sharpen her mind.

After a while, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside. A group of Braavos guards entered the courtyard. After the onlookers and Helbo recounted the events, the Yellowbeard men were arrested. Just as they were about to leave, Viserys' carriage arrived.

He jumped out and addressed the only still conscious mercenary, "Tell your captain that Viserys Targaryen is waiting for him in the swordsmanship competition. Tell him to send everyone of you, and I will kill you one by one." He then held up a finger and mimed slitting his throat. The mercenary shuddered, as if his head were truly about to be cut off.

The guards, understanding the situation and knowing that House Zalyne supported Dany, did not make things difficult for her. After a brief discussion, the matter was settled. The injured Helbo and Morel were carried home by Viserys.

Seeing the harmonious relationship between Viserys and Morel, Helbo felt a twinge of envy, hoping it would soon be his turn. However, Viserys did not immediately talk to him. Instead, he turned to Regis and asked, "How are you? Is it serious?"

"I'm fine! Lord Viserys, I'm very strong!" Regis replied, showing his resilience. Despite several bruises, he appeared unfazed.

'Now it's my turn, right?' Helbo, sitting on the sofa, looked on with longing, even stretching his neck a little. But Viserys still didn't seem to want to talk to him.

"Thanks to everyone, we were able to keep the bandits out. I thank you all on behalf of my sister," Viserys said, bowing to the group. Although injured, they struggled to return the bow. Meanwhile, Helbo's heart sank.

"If you ever need help in the future, my son and I will do our best to assist you," Morel said to Viserys. Both he and his son were genuinely puzzled about how Viserys had managed to connect with House Zalyne.

Viserys, however, saw them as useful allies, willing to let them assist him—a reward in itself. With House Zalyne's protection, Morel and his son could face any future challenges with more confidence, even if they lost their soap business.

"I don't think you'll need my help anymore," Viserys remarked, piquing everyone's curiosity.

"After the celebration, I plan to join the Sellswords," he announced.

"Why is that?" Helbo interjected, unwilling to give up.

"It's easy to live as a wealthy man, but Robert and Tywin have the blood of my closest relatives on their hands. As the last male heir of the Targaryens, I can't let this go!" Viserys's tone grew cold, reminding everyone that they were in the presence of a prince who had lost his kingdom. The atmosphere turned solemn.

Helbo realized that, to Viserys, even the three great houses of Braavos seemed insignificant.

"If you want to join the mercenaries, let us make you a suit of armor as a gift from us," Morel offered, knowing the high cost of plate armor, which could easily reach several hundred gold dragons.

"Thank you, Master Morel, but just find me a good blacksmith. I have a special weapon in mind," Viserys replied.

As the evening drew to a close, Morel and his son departed, leaving only Helbo, who was determined to speak with Viserys tonight. He would not leave until he was dismissed.

"Ah, Helbo, we've known each other for a long time, and I have something to tell you," Viserys finally addressed him.

Helbo's heart leapt with joy, his entire being filled with excitement. 'This is music to my ears,' he thought.

Chapter 58: The Customs of the Dothraki

"Don't worry, Lord Viserys, I'll take care of it!" Helbo assured him.

"Yes, be careful on the road," Viserys replied, waving as he fiddled with the black dragonbone ring on his hand.

Viserys had tasked Helbo with ensuring that the bards performing at the celebration would not be disturbed—a precaution based on past incidents. However, Viserys didn't entirely rely on Helbo; someone from House Zalyne would be the main enforcer to guarantee everything went smoothly. Helbo, despite being somewhat of a weak-willed opportunist, had not caused any trouble and there was no need to make an enemy out of him for now.

Viserys glanced again at the ring on his finger. He had to admit, the black dragonbone matched his aesthetic perfectly and looked quite imposing. Though the ring only provided a small benefit of 0.01 assignable points per day, he still valued it. After all, ten days would yield 0.1 points.

'I should get a dragonbone necklace, dragonbone belt, dragonbone bracelet, and maybe even a dragonbone anklet,' he mused. 'Looks like I'll need a jewelry box.'

...

As the saying goes, good news never travels far, but bad news travels a thousand miles. The news that Bloodbeard's men had been defeated by a little girl quickly spread throughout the sellsword community, eliciting public ridicule and mockery from various mercenary groups. They deemed such a sellsword unworthy of existence.

"Haha, when we get back, we'll definitely tell the captain about this. He'll be so happy!" laughed a mercenary from the Windblown, known as Meris the "Pretty Meris." Despite her moniker, Meris was anything but beautiful; her nose looked torn apart, and her face was a mosaic of scars, evidence of a hard life.

Her tall frame and golden hair were her only redeeming features. She was accompanied by a man with gray hair, half a head shorter than her, trailing her every step.

"What! This thing costs twenty gold dragons?" Meris exclaimed, wincing at the price of the palm-sized soap in her hand. After some hesitation, she decided to buy it.

The Golden Company, one of the most formidable mercenary groups with over 8,000 cavalry, also caught wind of the news.

"This one's a Targaryen, too. Should we ask him if he wants to join?" inquired a sellsword with flaxen hair and strikingly green eyes. They had heard some rumors about Viserys before arriving in Braavos. From a martial perspective, he seemed competent, and considering their first captain, Igor, the recruiter was intrigued.

"Isn't there a swordsmanship competition? We'll see about that. Besides, he's only 15, right? He's too young," another member remarked.

Meanwhile, in the Cattery, a man with blue hair and under 30 years old, Daario, the vice-captain of the Stormcrows, heard the news while applying his makeup. Daario, who in the original plot had been seduced by the Mother of Dragons' beauty and turned traitor, found the situation amusing but not serious.

"I heard that the Beggar King's sister is very beautiful. Are you not interested?" one of his subordinates asked.

"Don't the Targaryens favor brother-sister marriages? Maybe the Beggar King keeps his sister very close!" Daario mused, a slight smile playing on his lips. If he had the chance, he wouldn't mind seeing how beautiful the Princess of a fallen royalty was. If she was truly stunning, it wouldn't be too late to consider taking her.

The big celebration started the next day, but many people flocked to the Titan of Braavos the night before to secure a good spot. They slept directly on the banks of the waterway, using blankets or pieces of cloth, creating a spectacular sight from the air.

The rich, however, were in a much better situation. They had beds to sleep in, hot food to eat, and servants to set up tents for them. Some of the Dothraki enjoyed the open-air environment, taking advantage of the night to engage in their customary practices. Perched in a tree, Viserys' Seagull observed the 'live broadcast,' marveling at the Dothraki's creativity and the difficulty of their moves.

Dany, sleeping in the carriage and chatting with Kyla, wondered why Viserys had suddenly decided to set up his tent.

As dawn broke, everyone donned elaborate masks. These masks covered only the upper half of the face, leaving the mouth and nose exposed. The poor wore simple, crudely painted masks, while the rich flaunted masks made from a wider choice of materials, adorned with bright, expensive paints, feathers, and even gold and silver. Overnight, the lords of Braavos lost their dignity and decency in the revelry.

Viserys, his sister, and Kyla began packing early to better conceal their identities. Dany and Viserys wore hats to hide their silver hair. Dany chose a silver mask, while Viserys opted for an unusually ugly black leather mask attached to his hat, which looked very uncomfortable. When asked why, Viserys had only one explanation: "It was black."

Their carriage was parked on a high vantage point, offering a splendid view. In the early morning, ships from the Sealord's palace had already appeared, clearing the waterway of boats. The rising sun cast a golden hue on the water, while the clear blue sky seemed to invite the gods to join in the celebration with the mortals.

Everyone eagerly awaited the arrival of the Sealord's yacht. Suddenly, a long horn sounded in the distance. The crowd craned their necks, their excitement palpable. As the horn grew louder, a yacht adorned with smiling faces from bow to stern came into view, bathed in a radiant light.

"Oh~The Sealord—The Sealord—" the people's shouts nearly drowned out the horn.

As the boat drew closer, the figure standing on the bow became increasingly visible. Draped in a blue silk cloak that shimmered like water, he held a two-foot-long Dragonbone Scepter topped with a large diamond, the source of the boat's glow. Sealord Ferrego smiled and waved to the cheering crowds on either side of the waterway. Behind him stood six imposing guards, their chain mail glinting under their clothes, ready to protect him from any threat.

Following the Sealord's boat were several flower boats, brimming with blossoms. People on board continuously threw petals into the water, the throwers themselves scantily clad and strikingly attractive. Their fair skin glistened in the sunlight, eliciting roars from some of the more spirited onlookers.

Dany noticed her brother Viserys watching with particular interest. Following his gaze, she saw several pairs of leaping rabbits. "Finally!" Viserys muttered. In the distance, two ships brimming with guards escorted the official ship, protecting something precious: a shining Valyrian steel sword and a green dragon egg.

Chapter 59: The Bear

Apart from the dragon egg before them, Viserys and Dany had only seen one other at House Zalyne. According to their knowledge, Illyrio possesses three or more, the Sealord reportedly has three, and House Fregar might also have one.

Euron claims he once had a dragon egg, but it's thought he used it to pay the Faceless Men to assassinate his brother, King Balon.

The Iron Bank, known for safeguarding not just currency but also precious items, might also have dragon eggs. Other Free Cities could have them as well. After the fall of Valyria, a few 'Dragonlords' remained in the Free Cities, but they and their dragons were eventually killed by locals.

The Dothraki, who raid far and wide, might possess a dragon egg, though the probability is low. Viserys' goal is to collect at least five dragon eggs before the appearance of the Red Comet. This egg, plus Illyrio's three and one from House Zalyne, forms his baseline goal. As long as he can find a way to raise the five dragons, he will have "passed the level." However, once the dragons hatch, he will become a beacon in the night, drawing the attention of all forces.

'Let's get the dragon eggs first,' Viserys decided, shifting his focus to the sword.

The sword, seemingly a two-handed weapon, would not be easy to obtain. Even if he won the championship in Swordsmanship, there would be significant hurdles. If all else failed, he could ask for cash instead, as the price of a claymore could arm a hundred men. After all, it was a claymore, not a laser sword.

Following the ships carrying the dragon eggs and claymores were the Courtesans' vessels. One ship, surrounded by flying birds, appeared to belong to the Nightingale, Gortave. Another ship had numerous soap bubbles reflecting a dreamlike luster in the sunlight, clearly Falia's vessel. The enchanting bubbles overshadowed the magic of the bird-laden ship, capturing the interest of the shore's spectators.

"It's so beautiful."

"How long does it take to make this?"

"It's so beautiful."

To some, Falia's boat seemed to be burning with gold. Despite the beauty of other boats, including those of Falia and Gortave, none could match the splendor of Falia's display. Even the boat of the "Poetess" from House Antaryon, which appeared first, was overshadowed.

Yet, she remained unfazed. Ferrego didn't expect her to win the entire beauty contest, and she herself was indifferent. With the Sealord's support, winning or losing didn't matter.

In stark contrast, Gortave had high hopes for her boat adorned with beautiful birds. She believed it would captivate everyone, but the soap bubbles stole the show. "I heard these were made by the Beggar King, Viserys," Gortave's maid, Betha, remarked. Betha, a bed slave from Yunkai, bore a striking resemblance to Gortave. Both had dark red hair, differing only in brightness, making them nearly indistinguishable in dim light. This similarity was why Gortave chose her as a stand-in.

"I remember you saying that Viserys is also participating in the Swordsmanship Tournament?" Gortave asked.

"Yes," Betha confirmed.

"Tomorrow, you'll take my place, and Kethmo and I will go see this Beggar King."

"Okay, I'll inform Kethmo," Betha replied. Kethmo, Gortave's loyal bodyguard, was known for his fierce loyalty. It was said he once killed a sailor who claimed his wife was more beautiful than Nightingale. Gortave had meticulously trained Kethmo to be her devoted protector.

Once, Gortave had Betha dress in her clothes and seduce a Braavosi official while keeping Kethmo on the ship. She instructed Betha to scream as loudly as possible. Just as Kethmo was about to break, Gortave appeared before him, and he felt as if his soul had been saved. Betha spent the night as Gortave's double, while Gortave and Kethmo spent the night counting the stars. Gortave even pretended to fall asleep in his arms, but Kethmo did nothing.

As the courtesans' boats passed, they were followed by vessels carrying musicians and singers. These boats were spaced apart to prevent their music from clashing. The long procession took almost half an hour to pass, with the rich riding in carriages and ordinary people walking.

Illyrio, the great merchant, had naturally arranged for a carriage. He was irritated when Varys informed him that Viserys was bluffing. He realized he had been outwitted by a clever fox but kept this to himself, as his relationship with Varys was a secret. Illyrio suspected Viserys had other sources and wasn't just fabricating his information. Varys might have been a front.

From Illyrio's perspective, Viserys believed he had fooled him, but Illyrio could reverse the deception, making Viserys think he had succeeded. This strategy might yield something useful. Additionally, Illyrio wanted the Lannisters to continue providing cover for his bastards and diverting Robert's attention. That's why he didn't "freeze" the account he had given to Viserys, even after confirming the news with Varys.

However, Viserys was also a master of deception. Illyrio knew that even if he pretended ignorance, Viserys would be aware that he knew. Through this intrigue, Illyrio learned about the soap and House Zalyne. Besides meeting Viserys, he intended to discuss the soap with House Zalyne.

...

At this time, the Titan of Braavos was bustling with activity. Snacks, toys, acrobats, and minstrels filled the streets, creating a lively atmosphere. For safety reasons, Viserys did not allow Dany to get out of the carriage to play; instead, they remained inside. If they wanted to buy something along the way, they would send Regis, who was following them, to make the purchase.

Regis, now acting as Viserys' eyes and ears, was keeping an eye on Kyla. Viserys was curious about who Kyla's contact would be. As Kyla met with the man, Regis realized it was indeed someone from Westeros, and more specifically, from the North.

When the man introduced himself, Regis was completely taken aback. "I am Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," the man said, "and I will be working with you to assassinate Viserys Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen."

Chapter 60: Jorah Mormont

"Ho! The bear!" Viserys' Seagull scratched his head with his claws, quickly recalling the storyline involving Jorah Mormont, the bear. In the original tale, he met the siblings at Dany's wedding to the Horselord. Despite being captivated by Dany's beauty, he chose to spy for King's Landing, constantly feeding them information about the Viserys siblings. Later, as he fell in love with Dany, he became entirely devoted to her. Before that, he had been serving the Second Sons.

"What's going on? Why is he now a spy for King's Landing? And why is he plotting with Kyla to assassinate Dany and me?" Viserys' Seagull pondered intensely.

In the original plot, if Viserys hadn't traveled back in time, he would have fled Braavos six months earlier, warned by Dragon Dreams. It would have been difficult for King's Landing to locate the siblings, which is why they met by chance at Dany's wedding. But because Viserys had traveled back in time, he not only failed to escape Braavos but also caused quite a stir, attracting King's Landing's attention. Dany, also in the Free Cities, heard about it. Perhaps, like in the original storyline, Jorah sought amnesty by providing information to King's Landing, leading him to Braavos.

From his perch, Viserys' Seagull listened intently as Jorah and Kyla discussed their assassination plan.

"I've already approached Viserys as a maid, but he's too vigilant, and I haven't had a chance to strike," Kyla reported.

"What about poisoning?" Jorah asked.

"No, he keeps a dog and always lets the dog eat first," Kyla replied.

Lying is a necessary skill for an assassin. Jorah scratched his eyebrows, sensing Viserys' excessive caution.

"I heard he's good at martial arts?" Jorah asked.

"Yes, far better than the average person," Kyla confirmed.

"How can this be?" Jorah was perplexed, unable to understand the source of Viserys' martial prowess.

Kyla and Viserys' Seagull observed Jorah silently, curious about his next move.

"Well, isn't he going to participate in the Swordsmanship Competition? Let's assess his strength there," Jorah decided.

"Very well, my lord. I'll wait for your news," Kyla replied.

Jorah nodded. Since leaving Bear Island, no one had called him "My lord." Before departing, he glanced at Viserys' Seagull on the wall, but saw nothing suspicious.

"My lord, what should we do now?" Kyla turned to Viserys' Seagull and asked.

Viserys' Seagull stared back in silence, unable to speak. Kyla, realizing her mistake, apologized, "I'm sorry, my lord, I forgot that you can't speak right now."

Rolling his eyes, Viserys' Seagull took flight and soared away.

He flew around and found more than a dozen wandering singers and bards playing "Sailor". However, most of these performers were on the fringes of the festival, while the centre was dominated by the Nightingale's musicians. Suddenly Viserys' seagull heard a dispute in the distance and flew over to investigate.

He saw two groups of people in conflict, pushing and shoving each other.

"Listen to 'Sailor'! We were here first!"

"No, listen to 'Purple Wave'! We were here first!"

It seemed "Purple Wave" was a song from the Nightingale's side.

"You! Sing 'Purple Waves' for a day, and I'll give you 20 gold dragons!" one man shouted.

"I'll give 30! Sing 'Sailor'!" another countered.

In the end, the group wanting to hear "Purple Waves" won out, being more numerous and able to pay more. However, Viserys' Seagull noticed there were still plenty of people who preferred "Sailor." As time passed, the trend moved not only towards the outer areas but also towards the center of the festival. With two more days to go, "Sailor" seemed to be gaining popularity.

He then flew towards the three houses that had gathered near the Titan of Braavos. These houses owned property in the area and thus had secured good spots. To his surprise, he saw Tormo Fregar and Roth Zalyne sitting together, chatting happily.

"This is my House Fregar's mead. Would you like to try some?" Tormo offered.

"No, thanks. I brought tea from The Reach," Roth replied.

Without needing to ask, Roth's servant poured him a cup of tea. What Roth didn't realize was that House Fregar's preference for sweet wine meant they had the lowest level of lead poisoning among the three houses. However, Roth had switched to tea made with water straight from the Long Canal, so he didn't have to worry.

When Tormo learned that Methys had filled the soap vacancy, he immediately approached House Zalyne. The conversation did not go well. Tormo assumed Viserys had offered significant benefits or value to win House Zalyne's loyalty. But now, it seemed House Zalyne was willing to go to war with him for the survival of their lineage.

Could Viserys have solved the problem of House Zalyne not having a healthy child for nearly 20 years? Tormo couldn't fathom how a young kid could have such abilities, nor why Roth and his wife believed in him. It would take at least a dozen years to verify any solution.

"Haha, that's right. Lord Roth has a broad perspective, but I wonder if the swordsman you've chosen shares your business acumen?" Tormo Fregar quipped.

Over the years, House Zalyne had declined due to a lack of a successor. With fewer people willing to join them, attracting good swordsmen was a challenge.

"When I do business, I don't like to cast a wide net. When I find potential, I invest heavily," Roth replied, taking a sip of his tea. "Viserys is the one I'm investing in."

"I'm afraid that investment will be lost," Tormo retorted. "I'm the opposite of you. I invest in anything immediately profitable, turning small gains into large ones."

Their argument about "business experience" was subtle, a confrontation without raised voices.

"Listen," Roth said, cupping his hand to his ear. "This 'Sailor' song is quite good. My sailors love it."

"Oh? Really? But I clearly hear 'Purple Waves' louder," Tormo countered.

Roth, recognizing Tormo's ploy, smiled. "Lord Tormo, perhaps you've been in your own Bird Garden too long. I suggest you venture out and listen to different sounds. A philosopher once said, 'To only listen to what you want to hear is to deceive yourself.'"

"Interesting, but as long as I am strong enough, the world will only make the sounds I want to hear," Tormo replied confidently.

The two men were locked in a battle of wits, neither willing to concede.

As their debate reached a stalemate, a white shadow slipped away. Tomorrow marked the second day of the Ten-Day Festival and the first day of the Swordsmanship Tournament. Viserys pondered whether he should showcase his skills to intimidate Jorah or feign weakness to give him false confidence.

Chapter 61: Marriage Partner

Finally, Helbo had the chance to see Viserys again and brief him on the competition's rules and precautions. "There are 300 contestants in this Swordsmanship Tournament. In the first round, you must defeat your opponent within a certain time limit; otherwise, both sides will be eliminated."

Viserys nodded, unfazed. He was confident in his abilities, despite lacking experience against true masters. He believed he had no match in Braavos or even the Free Cities—unless, of course, there were any mages among the competitors.

The first round was grueling. With only 16 matches held simultaneously, each involving 32 participants, more than 100 matches had to be completed over two days, eliminating nearly half the contestants. The second round, featuring a reduced number of swordsmen, would include the popular betting segment.

Early the next morning, Viserys and his entourage arrived at the seventh arena assigned to him and began to wait. The tournament wasn't held in a single location; the 300 contestants were divided among several venues, allowing more spectators to enjoy the event. The Titan of Braavos, being an arsenal, easily designated 16 arenas. The winners of these 16 arenas would advance to the final round.

Gortave, having learned the location of Viserys's match, arrived early with his swordsman to secure a seat. With everyone except the participating swordsmen wearing masks, Gortave's presence did not cause any trouble, even with her beauty. They were seated in the "VIP room," an area off-limits to local hoodlums.

The first match featured a redhead and a black-haired contestant. Their skills were mediocre, offering little entertainment. In the end, the redhead was defeated by the black-haired fighter due to exhaustion. The following matches included two brown-haired fighters and then two competitors with a significant age difference. The spectators eagerly awaited more thrilling bouts, especially the match featuring Viserys.

...

Gortave watched attentively, but she didn't see Viserys until the last match of the afternoon.

"He didn't get a turn on the first day?" she asked.

"I think so, Ave," Kethmo replied. Ave was Gortave's nickname, a privilege she allowed Kethmo.

Kethmo had offered to compete on her behalf, but she had refused. This gesture deeply moved Kethmo; he felt like he was guarding a tree that would eventually blossom. As for the reality of the situation—good luck to him.

On the other side, Viserys realized he might have been tricked. Waiting for his match was exhausting, and it was hard to ensure no one would exploit the situation. Despite the Sealord's Palace claiming it was for the safety of the swordsmen, Viserys was reminded of his own experience with bureaucratic delays during his driving test.

Since it wasn't his turn on the first day, he returned with Dany and the others. On the way back, they encountered Jorah Mormont. Though he wore a mask, his thick neck made him easy to recognize. As they passed, he touched his beard, signaling Kyla to keep an eye on him.

When they arrived at the temporary residence provided by House Zalyne, a carriage awaited them. Illyrio had arrived, having a house nearby and access to better information than most.

The two greeted each other warmly, arms entwined as they walked inside. To avoid troubling Dany with their conversation, Viserys sent her to bed.

"I guess Lord Illyrio came here mainly to discuss business with the Moonshadow?" Viserys inquired.

"That's true, but I was truly surprised to learn that the Moonshadow was your creation," Illyrio replied with a smile. He couldn't conceal his astonishment at Viserys' accomplishments. Learning that Viserys had also written "The Sailor" left him even more stunned.

Soap and songs were not things a teenager typically created. Illyrio first suspected Viserys had an organization behind him and used Varys as a front to conceal it. However, if such an organization existed, why had it allowed the siblings to endure such hardships over the past few years? Illyrio could only conclude that he was increasingly unable to understand the young man he had initially seen as a mere pawn.

"Well, if you need it, I can help facilitate this business. I estimate that soon this product will be in the hands of the lords of Westeros," Illyrio offered.

"Since you said the Moonshadow is only one reason for your visit to Braavos, is there anything else I can assist you with?" Viserys inquired.

"Nothing urgent, but I'm curious about your future plans. I have someone in mind for a marriage alliance," Illyrio said, patting his ample stomach.

Viserys didn't hesitate to share his plan: he intended to join a mercenary group to avoid Robert's assassins and hone his warfare skills. However, Illyrio revealed he had found a potential marriage partner for Dany.

"Drogo?" Viserys repeated, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

"Yes, he's in his twenties now and has just taken over the strongest Khalasar in the Dothraki Sea from his father. He's incredibly brave and has never lost a duel," Illyrio explained.

Viserys recalled that the current Horselord could already command a formidable army. In two or three years, he might become the strongest overlord in the Dothraki Sea. It would indeed be a significant alliance for a man to marry the most beautiful girl in the world at the peak of his power. Viserys couldn't help but think of a certain king who once lifted a trident. But with Viserys in the picture, Drogo was merely a barbarian suited for herding sheep.

As Illyrio extolled the virtues of "30,000 roaring warriors" and the "Strongest Khalasar," Viserys only smiled. After glancing at the lark on the windowsill, he said, "You've gone to great lengths, but Khal Drogo does sound like a good ally."

The lark seemed uneasy, lowering its body as if sensing a nearby threat.

"But to negotiate such an alliance, I need enough bargaining chips. Just having Dany isn't sufficient. Let's revisit this in a few years, once I have an army," Viserys continued.

Anyone else might have been mocked by Illyrio for such a statement, as raising an army isn't something one picks up from a street vendor. But Viserys's confident attitude and recent accomplishments made Illyrio hesitate to judge rashly.

"No hurry. Lady Dany is still young. We can discuss this in a couple of years," Illyrio conceded.

Viserys smiled and said nothing. After Illyrio left, Viserys turned to the lark and said, "I told you, I will never use you as a bargaining chip. Now, go to sleep!"

The lark flew to Viserys' shoulder, rubbed its head against his ear, and then flew away.

The first day of the tournament coincided with the second day of the poetry contest. Sealord Ferrego was pleased to hear that someone had fought over the songs performed by the singers and musicians. He found joy in this chaos, for it was only when two houses were at odds that he could relax. Due to his anemia, he struggled to sleep at night and lacked energy during the day, often relying on the comfort of poppy milk to rest.

"Lord, the Company of the Cat has bribed their people and intend to work together against Viserys," Qarro whispered to Ferrego.

Ferrego frowned, pondering for a moment before saying, "It's been eight years. Let's see how good this Viserys really is."

Chapter 62: At Least He Still Has His Upper Lip

Viserys, Dany, and the others remained in their room, waiting for the tournament to progress. To pass the time, the brother and sister engaged in a game of five-in-a-row. Meanwhile, Gortave continued to escort Kethmo to the seventh arena. Many individuals with ulterior motives populated the arena, including Jorah, Illyrio, and the Bloodbeard mercenary group.

Bloodbeard had bribed the schedule coordinator to ensure that Viserys would face one of his own men, known as "Roaring Lutha." Lutha was skilled in martial arts, but his most notable trait was his deafening roar. Before a fight, he would bellow at his opponent, often stunning the inexperienced and creating an opportunity for a swift kill. Bloodbeard was desperate; he needed a decisive win to maintain his reputation for future dealings.

As the day progressed, time seemed to fly by, and it was already afternoon. There were several instances of deliberate delays in the arena, raising suspicions about a time extension. It appeared that House Fregar had prepared meticulously, setting up the arena to their advantage.

After a light meal, a servant in a blue uniform approached. "Lord Viserys Targaryen, you are next in the tournament. Please follow me."

"Brother, be careful," Dany urged.

"Don't worry," Viserys reassured her, setting down his chess piece and giving Kyla a meaningful glance, signaling her to stay vigilant.

After ten minutes, the penultimate match concluded, marking the final bout of the first round. By this time, many spectators had left, leaving the arena somewhat empty.

"Kill him..." Bloodbeard, growing increasingly irritable, shouted as his man entered the arena, drawing attention. His eyes were wide with anticipation, already envisioning Viserys' bloodshed.

"Is that Viserys? The Beggar King?" Gortave's eyes filled with amazement. How could such a handsome young man be the "Beggar King"?

Next to him, Kethmo noticed Gortave's expression and felt a surge of jealousy. His gaze on Viserys hardened with envy. He vowed to himself that one day, he would defeat Viserys in front of Gortave and become her most loyal and powerful protector.

Jorah watched Viserys enter the arena and couldn't help but think of Rhaegar. He wondered how different Westeros might have been if Rhaegar hadn't "taken" Lyanna, and how his own fate might have changed.

Clearing these chaotic thoughts from his mind, Jorah focused on assessing Viserys's strength. 'Relaxed body, firm gaze, steady steps. He seems like a good fighter,' he noted.

He then turned his attention to Bloodbeard's man, Roaring Lutha. Despite being half a head shorter than Viserys, Lutha had a solid, pillar-like presence. Such a formidable figure charging into battle would be a terrifying sight.

In Jorah's estimation, the odds were against Viserys, with a 40-60% chance in favor of Lutha. Although Viserys could win, his chances seemed slim.

Meanwhile, Pretty Meris, an experienced mercenary, observed the scene. She quickly realized that Viserys had been targeted. Yet, upon seeing him, her thoughts momentarily blanked. 'What a striking young man', she thought. His slightly curly silver hair tied back and his black long coat gave him a calm, commanding presence. He stood on the arena like a poised halberd.

Viserys's confident demeanor made Lutha feel a twinge of inferiority, but he quickly masked it with defiance. "Haha, with that appearance, which brothel did you run away from?" Lutha taunted.

"Huh? Didn't your mother ever mention me to you? I trained her myself," Viserys retorted coolly.

"You're looking for death!" Lutha froze for a moment before shouting angrily. His battlefield experience didn't immediately register the indirect insult.

With the referee's signal, Lutha let out a deafening roar. The nobleman in the room shuddered, dropping his teacup, which shattered on the ground. However, Viserys remained unfazed.

In terms of battlefield experience and killing, Viserys was no less capable. Had Lutha ever faced a torrent of steel, carpet bombings, or a barrage of bullets? Had he ever been in the hellish chaos where each bullet claimed a life? To Viserys, Lutha's roar was useless, serving only to emit a faint stench of bad breath that mildly disgusted him.

Roaring Lutha swung his great sword, baring his yellow teeth in a savage grin, at Viserys. Seeing Viserys standing still, he grew excited, believing his opponent was paralyzed with fear. He thought he could decapitate Viserys with a single stroke.

The crowd held their breath. Gortave buried her face in Kethmo's shoulder, unable to watch. Jorah Mormont and Meris stared wide-eyed, transfixed by the unfolding drama. Regis gripped the railing so tightly it seemed he might vault over it, and Dany's knuckles turned white from clutching the same railing in sheer tension.

A flash of light blinded the spectators for an instant. Lutha's attack had missed. As he turned to strike again, he felt an intense burning on his cheek. Looking down, he saw a familiar, furry object on the ground. Touching his face, he discovered it was wet. The object on the ground was his chin—his entire lower jaw had been sliced off by Viserys' sword.

"Oh, uh, ah..." Lutha tried to speak, but his tongue and the structure of his mouth were gone, leaving him to produce only guttural, unintelligible sounds. The excruciating pain spread rapidly through his brain, rendering him incapable of continuing the fight.

Viserys slowly raised his sword and pointed it at a masked red-bearded man in the stands, his lips curling into a sneer. The speed of his attack was astonishing—too fast for the crowd to follow. The battle ended almost as soon as it began, and Viserys had not only defeated his opponent but severed Lutha's chin with precision.

The crowd was stunned by the swiftness of the duel. Viserys's victory required a masterful control of distance and angle, making the feat even more impressive. Lutha was left in a state worse than death; without the ability to chew, he would be relegated to a diet of liquid food, condemning him to a miserable existence. His future was bleak, destined to wither away like a stinking rat in a dark corner.

Viserys's single, lethal move shocked everyone.

Jorah announced that the assassination plan had been postponed.

Meris, intrigued by Viserys, decided to find his residence to see if he might be interested in joining her.

Bloodbeard, who had been shouting and jeering, was rendered speechless, as if he had choked on his own words.

The swift outcome of the battle quickly reached House Fregar. "Father, his swordsmanship seems to have exceeded our expectations," a young noble remarked. "But Viserys is still a yonng; he must be weaker than those experienced swordsmen."

Chapter 63: Fate of a Courtesan

The results of the competition reached Tormo in less than twenty minutes. Unlike his busy older and younger brothers, the second son, Andersen, continued to serve him tea and water.

"You handle this. I have only one request: make sure this guy dies in the arena," Tormo commanded Vitus.

"Understood!"

In Tormo's eyes, Viserys had declared himself an enemy, and it was crucial to eliminate him quickly. This move might help him ally with Robert and secure more weapons and ships for his house.

Seeing his older brother favored by their father, Andersen felt a sense of urgency. He knew he had to act or risk losing any chance to change his fate.

Meanwhile, the Zalyne couple also heard about the competition's outcome. Roth, gently stroking his wife's growing belly, was still processing the news.

"This Viserys is exceptional in martial arts," he remarked.

"And they're both beautiful and intelligent," Methys added, recounting Viserys's achievements. "I hope our child will be like them."

She touched her belly, her eyes filled with hope. Following Viserys's advice, her complexion had improved significantly, her cheeks now white and rosy, which only increased Roth's desire for her. However, he restrained himself, mindful of her condition.

"Roth, we should consider marrying our children to this brother and sister, regardless of gender," Methys suggested.

"Marrying them?"

"Yes, they're of pure Valyrian blood, beautiful, and intelligent. Plus, Viserys is a valuable ally for our house."

"Alright, but you must take good care of your health and have a healthy child," Roth said, kissing her forehead. He liked the idea but had concerns. If Viserys still aimed to restore his kingdom, they would have to rethink. If Viserys chose to remain in Braavos and live as a wealthy man, the match could be considered. However, if he pursued his former ambitions, he would be too risky an ally.

On the other side, Helbo, who had been busy for two days, also heard of Viserys' victory. He wasn't surprised. Viserys had tasked him with protecting those who played his song from harassment. His men could only operate on the periphery, yet "The Sailor" was sung everywhere, especially at the docks, where the song had almost become a nuisance. Feeling he had done little, Helbo hired people to sing it for Viserys. With the next round of the tournament approaching, he had decided to bet on Viserys.

Morel and his son personally oversaw the production of Viserys' armor and weapons, spending nearly a quarter of their fortune. Morel even purchased extra gems for the armor.

"Father, we don't need to put gems in Lord Viserys' armor. They could cause problems in battle," his son cautioned.

Recalling Rhaegar's fate at Ruby Ford, Morel reconsidered. "What do you suggest?"

"Why not craft another weapon of the design Lord Viserys created, using the finest steel?"

"Agreed."

Morel placed an additional order for two halberds and a suit of steel armor for Viserys, incorporating necessary decorations. The three dragons on the armor were trimmed with gold, epitomizing one word: Cool!

...

On the day after Viserys' victory, several small mercenary groups approached him with invitations, but he declined them all. By then, he was already aboard Falia's ship, preparing for the next song.

As soon as Viserys arrived, Asha couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Has the theme for the next song been sent yet?" he asked.

"Yes, it should be coming soon. Let's wait a bit longer," Asha replied.

With time to spare, Viserys started chatting with Falia.

"Lady Moonshadow, if you win the final, how will you celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" Falia looked a bit dazed, an unreadable expression in her eyes. "I should be invited to House Zalyne castle."

Falia had been raised as a Courtesan and knew the unspoken rules: winning the competition for House Zalyne would lead to in-depth cooperation, and to ensure her loyalty, House Zalyne would take away her purity. If questioned, the house would vouch for her but disobedience was not an option.

Unaware of this, Viserys didn't press the topic when Falia seemed keen to change it. They shifted their conversation to Sellswords and their grievances, though Falia's knowledge was mostly second-hand.

As time passed, the awaited theme for the next round of poetry did not arrive. Falia grew increasingly puzzled, knowing Viserys was supposed to participate in the next round. The delay meant less time for Viserys to compose. Though he had taken less than an hour to create "Sailor" last time, Falia wondered if it had been a fluke—a case of a blind cat hitting a dead mouse. She wasn't sure if he would be as fortunate in the next round.

In fact, Falia was right. Viserys had composed the song in advance. Not just one, but hundreds, perhaps even thousands of songs. As a mercenary, often isolated from civilization and under constant pressure, he had developed songwriting as a necessary hobby to stave off boredom.

Thus, Viserys remained calm and even enjoyed the night view, while Falia grew increasingly anxious, repeatedly sending Asha to check for news.

After three or four hours with no updates, Asha's anxiety peaked. "What should we do? There are less than three hours left, and the deadline for submitting the song has passed," she said urgently.

Viserys, however, was unsurprised. He had anticipated that House Fregar would cause trouble but hadn't expected them to stoop so low. This delay could jeopardize his chances of obtaining the dragon egg.

Finally, after another quarter of an hour, the messenger arrived, covered in mud and bruises, as if he had been in an accident. "Sorry, Lady Moonshadow, our carriage overturned," he explained breathlessly.

Falia wasted no time and urged him to quickly hand over the theme to Viserys. The messenger, still self-blaming, couldn't comprehend how the accident had occurred. The axle had broken mid-journey.

Handing over the theme, the messenger looked at Viserys with a mix of curiosity and respect. He knew Viserys as the composer of "Sailor," a song he admired. However, he doubted how anyone could create a worthy song in just two hours under such pressure.

Chapter 64: The Old Boatman’s Awakening

When Viserys, the messenger, and the musician left, Falia and Asha could no longer contain their excitement. Falia abandoned her usual composure, chatting animatedly with Asha about Viserys' new song.

"He had only taken a few steps in the cabin, humming a few melodies, before picking up the harp and starting to play," Falia recounted, her eyes sparkling. Viserys had finished composing before the messenger had even completed his tea.

The song enchanted all who heard it. In less than five days, the ship had witnessed the birth of two everlasting songs.

Viserys played the song for himself first, then spent nearly an hour teaching it to the musician. When the messenger returned, there was still plenty of time left.

"Could it be that he is a genius?" Falia whispered in awe.

"Yes, he is a genius!" Asha said decisively. "And he even wrote your name into the song."

Falia's cheeks flushed at the thought of the lyrics Viserys had penned.

...

The next day, a new song about beauty began to spread through Braavos. Viserys had transformed "Katyusha" into "Falia," merging themes of beauty and elegance. This catchy, enchanting version captivated listeners.

While many still enjoyed singing "Sailor," the musicians and singers were growing weary of it. They eagerly embraced the new song, especially since it resonated with young lovers who appreciated its misty, romantic flavor.

An old boatman reportedly burst into tears upon hearing the song, prompting his passengers to ask what was wrong. He explained, "I was transporting goods for a master craftsman. His daughter kept asking if I was hungry and gave me plenty to eat. I was only 16 and could eat a lot, so I did. But she kept asking if I was still hungry, which made me uncomfortable, so I ran away. Now I realize she meant more, and I regret it." This poignant story spread throughout Braavos, with "Falia" becoming synonymous with a beloved person.

The House Zalyne deftly promoted the song, though not everyone agreed with its name. Kethmo, for instance, thought it should be called "Gortave." Viserys's impressive swordsmanship had left him feeling uneasy, even suspecting that Viserys might surpass him in skill. Kethmo's pride and admiration for Gortave, who openly admired Viserys, fueled his jealousy. He felt overshadowed by Viserys's multifaceted talents and noble heritage.

This sense of crisis soon turned into a burning desire to compete with Viserys. News that someone had entered both the Swordsmanship and Poetry Competitions spread like wildfire. When people learned that it was the 'Beggar King' himself, they were astonished. Sensitive young girls wept upon hearing of Viserys's hardships.

As the second round of the tournament began, the arena where Viserys was fighting was packed with three times the usual number of spectators. Security had to deploy more guards to manage the crowd. Thanks to his wealth, Illyrio secured a prime spot at the edge of the arena. His opinion of Viserys continued to rise as he observed his growing popularity and prowess.

Although Illyrio acknowledged Viserys' martial arts skills, he also knew that Viserys had never experienced the brutal reality of war. In Illyrio's eyes, the difference between those who had been to war and those who had not was vast. War veterans carried a unique aura, a hardened momentum that could only be gained through actual combat.

However, Viserys' calm demeanor when facing Illyrio was surprising. He exuded a battle-hardened confidence, as if the wars Illyrio had seen were mere child's play to him. The only advantage Illyrio felt he still had over Viserys was his knowledge of Varys and the ongoing presence of Jorah. He wanted to evaluate one last time the feasibility of killing Viserys.

Kyla couldn't understand why Viserys didn't just eliminate Jorah, given that he knew his intentions. After all, when Jorah came to kill him, Viserys could confront him directly. Viserys, however, aimed to subdue Jorah, not through Daenerys' beauty but by leveraging his knowledge. Jorah was familiar with the Sellswords, the Free Cities, the Dothraki, and even Slaver's Bay. Although Viserys knew the general plot, he needed a guide for the details.

Now that their interests didn't conflict, they could negotiate. Jorah wanted to return to Westeros, to Bear Island. If he worked hard for Viserys, he could not only return to Bear Island but also find his wife, who had run away with someone else.

The second round of the tournament consisted of two days of fighting. The first day was one round, and the second day was another, with the top 16 competing in the final round to determine the champion. After the first round of eliminations, the tournament became more entertaining. The matches were intense, and the audience was thrilled.

However, the real draw was not the other fighters but the fallen prince, Viserys Targaryen, who was both a swordsman and a composer. This time, House Fregar seemed to have changed tactics. They didn't try to exhaust Viserys by scheduling him for the last round. Instead, he was scheduled to fight before noon.

When Viserys entered the arena, the audience fell silent. The men stared with wide eyes, unable to hide their jealousy, while the women clutched their handkerchiefs, their hearts racing.

Viserys' opponent was Thane, a muscular swordsman in his thirties who wielded a two-handed sword. It was a powerful weapon, well-suited for a middle-aged swordsman against a younger opponent. The sheer force could break through a young swordsman's defenses.

"Lord, perhaps you should consider giving up. If I had a face as beautiful as yours, I definitely wouldn't risk coming here," Thane taunted.

Viserys merely smiled, his calm confidence unshaken.

Chapter 65: Choosing a Sellsword Company

"That's a shame. You didn't inherit my good looks from your mother," Viserys taunted with a mocking smile.

Thane, unfazed by the provocation, remained focused. His battle-hardened experience showed in his powerful and wide-ranging attacks with the double-handed sword. Viserys initially focused on parrying and blocking, but soon realized he could defeat Thane within ten moves. However, he chose to use this opportunity to gauge his own abilities against a seasoned fighter, assessing how many opponents he might handle simultaneously in future battles.

He knew he had to avoid getting carried away in the heat of combat, especially after joining the Sellswords. It was crucial to leave himself some margin for error.

Meanwhile, Viserys' "celebrity effect" had drawn a large crowd, leaving the Pretty Meris, who had overslept, without a good seat. Now, she stood in a corner with a particularly bad view.

"What are you pushing for?" a young man in his twenties shouted angrily as he felt someone shoving behind him. But when he turned and saw Meris, a tall woman over 1.8 meters with a scarred face, he froze and quickly gave up his spot. Meris stood in front of him with satisfaction, almost completely blocking his view. He didn't utter a word, just huddled behind her like a monkey hiding from a fierce beast.

From behind, Meris was actually quite striking. Her thick blonde hair hung behind her head, and she exuded a faint scent of lavender mixed with a unique feminine allure. However, the memory of her scarred face quickly shattered the young man's brief fantasy.

Meris, observing Viserys on stage, noted his apparent ease and strength. 'If he can win, we might consider inviting him to join the Windblown,' she thought.

Secretly, she hoped having such a handsome young man around would be a pleasant change from the usual company of rough-looking comrades.

Back on stage, Viserys gradually felt the pressure mounting. Although Thane's two-handed sword delivered powerful blows, it also demanded immense physical effort. Realizing he needed to end the fight quickly, Viserys intensified his attacks, aiming to turn the tide. Each of Thane's strikes targeted Viserys' vital points, reflecting his intent to win at any cost.

Despite the mounting pressure, Viserys remained composed. If he could read Thane's thoughts, he might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. You'll see what a storm is like! Viserys thought, having already gauged Thane's strength and sensed his malice. It was time to conclude this battle decisively.

After receiving Thane's full-power attack, Viserys calmly said, "I didn't want to kill you."

Thane stared at the young man before him, incredulous. 'He can still speak! His breathing is so stable!'

Thane realized he had been defeated. Before he could react, Viserys suddenly bent over, delivering a powerful blow to Thane's waist and throwing him backward. Thane's sword fell from his hand as he was kicked out of the ring, his spleen ruptured, leaving him with only days to live.

With precise combat skills, Viserys had delivered a fatal blow. Thane collapsed like a rag doll, and moments later, the crowd erupted in cheers.

"Viserys Targaryen wins!"

Regis, in the room, roared with a heart-rending cry, while Daenerys felt her blood surge with excitement.

Meris's blue eyes gleamed; he knew that recruiting this young man would surely earn him a reward from the captain. Illyrio, too, pondered whether to introduce Viserys to the Golden Company, considering having his men keep an eye on him.

Meanwhile, Jorah abandoned his assassination plan. Initially, he had intended to use Kyla to lure Viserys out and then kill him. Despite hearing about Viserys' exploits, he believed he stood a good chance, especially with a surprise attack. But now, he dismissed this idea entirely. A head-on clash would require full armor and a long weapon, while Viserys would have to be unarmed.

The power of Viserys' kick was terrifying. Jorah suddenly recalled the title of a Targaryen king, a young lord who had led an army at fifteen to quell a rebellion in Dorne. Although he died young, his legend endured. 'No, even the young dragon lord wouldn't be that good at fighting,' Jorah thought.

Realizing the futility of assassination, he considered providing information to King's Landing instead. Assassinating Daenerys was out of the question, as it would undoubtedly provoke Viserys.

If he could put aside his plans to join the Sellswords and go to Bear Island with a new identity, the consequences would be unimaginable. This judgment came after learning of Banergar's fate.

The next day, Viserys won two more consecutive rounds, solidifying his status as the victor of the seventh ring.

Gortave, along with the five swordsmen under House Fregar, emerged as the winners of the fourth ring. The Lady's three ring winners were also under her command, while the rest were divided among various sellswords and swordsmen from other Free Cities. Standing out among over 300 competitors, Viserys' performance exceeded many expectations.

Over the past two days, Viserys received numerous invitations—from sellswords eager to have him join their ranks, to wealthy merchants and foreign magistrates seeking him as a bodyguard. The offers were substantial, reaching up to 5,000 gold dragons a year. However, when Viserys mentioned he was the inventor of the Moonshadow, many backed off.

Yet, his apparent lack of financial need and continued interest in joining a mercenary group only fueled the excitement among the sellswords. Viserys now faced three main choices: the Golden Company, Stormcrows, and the Windblown.

The Golden Company, the most powerful mercenary group, was a natural consideration due to its historical ties with the Targaryens. Despite being dubbed "The Beggar King" by them, Viserys valued their strength. However, the possibility of being monitored by Illyrio's men was intolerable.

The second option, the Stormcrows, operated frequently in Slaver's Bay, aligning with Viserys' plan to strengthen his forces and acquire the Unsullied from Astapor. However, Slaver's Bay had been relatively peaceful, limiting the scale of operations there.

The third and most favored choice was the Windblown, led by the Tattered Prince. This leader, once a prince of Pentos, fled to avoid being sacrificed as a scapegoat. He eventually founded the Windblown after years of mercenary experience. The Tattered Prince's greatest desire was to return to Pentos and wield real power.

Pentos, with its proximity to Westeros and strategic location near the Dothraki and the Disputed Lands—a hotbed for sellswords—presented an ideal launch point for future campaigns. This made the Windblown an attractive option, given the potential for continuous warfare and market prospects.

Viserys planned to join the Windblown, amass wealth, and eventually form his own mercenary group, using it as a foundation for hatching dragons and conquering Slaver's Bay. However, he knew not to appear too eager, lest he lose his bargaining power.

While deliberating his options, Kyla entered with a man wrapped in a black cloak. The man lifted his hood, revealing a familiar face—Andersen.

Chapter 66: Kinslaying

"Lord Viserys, you have already won the seventh arena, and each arena champion receives a reward of 3,000 gold dragons. I can offer you an additional 10,000 gold dragons if you withdraw from the competition."

Andersen's demeanor was much more pleasing this time, in stark contrast to his previous aggressive behavior. At least he knew how to use honorific language and discuss money. It was a progress.

"You came to see me in private, right? I think your brothers have been putting a lot of pressure on you lately, haven't they?"

"Just say yes or no!" Andersen's face changed, and neither of them answered the other's question directly.

Andersen watched as Viserys stood up and walked towards him, causing him to subconsciously take a step back. After all, Viserys's strength was formidable, and Andersen was wary. Meeting in private carried risks; if he were killed, it would be a waste.

"We can actually cooperate," Viserys said, patting Andersen on the shoulder.

"Cooperate?"

"That's right. My goal is to defeat all my opponents, and so is yours. But my opponents are in the ring, and yours are outside of it."

Andersen swallowed hard, vaguely guessing what Viserys was implying.

"If you kill your brother, you will be the sole heir to the house, won't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Andersen's body shook like a cat with its tail stepped on, his voice trembling. He realized that Viserys was trying to induce him to commit kinslaying.

"I tell you! It's impossible!" Andersen glared at Viserys, as if to assert his determination and ward off the devilish suggestion.

"If it's impossible, then why are you yelling?" Viserys looked at him with a mocking smile. "Kyla, please escort Lord Andersen out."

Greatly provoked, Andersen turned and left, unwilling to stay a moment longer. In his haste and turmoil, he accidentally stumbled.

"Come see me when you've figured it out!" Viserys shouted, watching him leave.

Viserys knew he couldn't simply ignore being targeted by House Fregar. Thanks to the intelligence from House Zalyne, he was aware of the situation within Andersen's house.

He believed that planting the seed of doubt would eventually make it take root in Andersen's heart. If he could control House Fregar through Andersen...

...

On the road, Andersen was restless, his breathing heavy and difficult to calm. He was so irritable that he seemed ready to snap at any moment. Suddenly, his carriage stopped, and he shouted angrily, "What's going on!"

The coachman didn't answer. Instead, a young man who looked like him stepped in—Vitus.

"Where have you been?" Vitus asked indifferently.

"What does it matter to you?" Andersen retorted.

"You should know that Viserys is against the house, right? What did you go to him for?"

Andersen was shocked. 'How did he know where I was? Had Father already included him in the family's intelligence network?' Anger flared at the calm look on Vitus's face. He had always been like that. Realizing he couldn't hide it, Andersen admitted, "Yes, I went to see Viserys."

"What did you want from him?"

"Do I need to tell you?"

"If you don't tell me, you'll have to tell Father," said Vitus, expressionless, implying that if Tormo knew, Vitus would too.

Realizing that Vitus was showing off, Andersen felt his anger suffocating him. He glared at Vitus, his face red, and finally conceded, "I don't think we have to kill him. Maybe he just wants some money and to leave Braavos with his beggar princess."

Vitus looked at Andersen, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You actually went to bribe a dog with a broken leg. As long as you kill him, everything he has will belong to House Fregar."

"Kill him? You have no idea how strong he is!" Andersen argued, his voice rising. Whenever he talked about Viserys, he couldn't help but think of the scene he saw on the Falia flower boat—a single man against an entire guard! It was shocking.

Although the guards he brought from the house were not masters, they were swordsmen who had practiced for many years. Even using their fists and feet instead of swords, Viserys won too quickly, which cast a shadow over his heart. Especially when Andersen had his arm broken and fixed—the intense pain was still fresh in his memory.

"Don't worry about that, I have plenty of ways." Vitus shook out his clothes. "Just follow my orders, and you'll be rewarded with a fortune. But if you're too greedy, think about what happened to your mother."

When Vitus mentioned his mother, Andersen's nostrils flared, and his cheeks turned red with anger.

However, Vitus said with disdain, "What? Are you going to attack your brother again?"

Watching Vitus berate him, Andersen's teeth chattered. In fact, he and Vitus were half-brothers. Andersen was the bastard son of Tormo and a courtesan. The "greed" Vitus mentioned referred to Andersen's mother trying to secure more resources for him. This had displeased Tormo's wife, Vitus's mother, who secretly killed Andersen's mother out of spite.

Because Tormo had been very close to Andersen's mother, he was enraged by her death. He included Andersen among his two legitimate sons, nominally entitling him to inherit. Over the years, however, Tormo's anger faded, and he began to see Andersen merely as a rival to motivate his legitimate sons to work harder.

Recently, Tormo's task of making tea for his two half-brothers had stirred up embarrassing memories for Andersen. Now, Vitus had reopened those wounds, almost driving Andersen to lose his mind.

"Remember to go with me to Falia's place tonight," Vitus said before leaving. Watching him go, Andersen almost trembled with anger.

Suddenly, Andersen heard Viserys' words echoing in his mind: 'Come see me when you've figured it out.' But what could he possibly do? Even if he was the best fighter, he couldn't break into House Fregar's fortress alone, could he?

"No, I can't do this," Andersen shook his head. He still couldn't bring himself to turn his sword on his own brother.

'But are Vitus and Tarth my true brothers?'

Chapter 67: Powerful

"Lady Faria, Lord Viserys is here!"

"Oh, I see!"

Before Viserys could even arrive at Falia's place, news of his victory in the seventh arena had already reached their ears. After witnessing his formidable skills in close combat with Andersen, the two were confident in Viserys's strength. If he was that strong unarmed, how powerful would he be with a sword? Though they often dealt with swordsmen, their methods of judging martial arts were relatively simple, but they sufficed for assessing him.

When Viserys boarded the ship, he was greeted by Asha, who was still wearing the "coin splint" he had made for her. She enthusiastically brought him a cup of hot tea.

"Ah, thank you, Lady Asha," he said.

Under normal circumstances, this would be a simple thank you, though a bit intimate and playful. But this simple greeting was unexpected.

"The third round—the theme for the third round has arrived," Asha said, stuttering slightly.

"This time it was quite fast," Viserys remarked, surprised. It seemed House Fregar was preparing to do something else. Could they let him take the dragon egg so easily? Obviously not. The theme had arrived so quickly that he didn't quite believe it.

"The theme this time is the future?!" Viserys exclaimed, a bit surprised as he received the envelope from Asha. These bumpkins had actually chosen such a philosophical topic.

Through the gauze-like curtain, Faria, seated in the boat, saw the shadows of Viserys and Asha. Viserys looked down at the letter in his hand, and Asha, who was just tall enough to reach his chest, leaned over to look at it with him. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were close. This made Falia feel a little uncomfortable. She had been the main character for so many years, and now she had suddenly become a supporting role. Normally, she wouldn't have cared, but today...

Falia suddenly realized she might have been tempted, just as the old nun had said. 'Take a deep breath and calm down.' Falia counted her heartbeat while imagining an album the nun who had trained her had once shown her. The album was full of images of abandoned women, women who died in childbirth, women who were destitute... She hoped this would strengthen her resolve.

"Lady Moonshadow," Viserys said, realizing he had been outside for far too long, to the point of being rude. He quickly entered the boat and expressed his apologies. His smiling face appeared in Falia's eyes, and the scene she had just recalled in her mind suddenly vanished. Now she had only one question—how could she get Viserys to call her Falia instead of Moonshadow?

This time, Viserys seemed to be a bit out of ideas. He held a pen and paper, writing and drawing, but couldn't make up his mind. There were songs about the future in his music library, but most of them were pop songs, and he worried they didn't match the style of the times, leaving him conflicted. However, even his slightly frowning expression captivated the two women.

After about ten minutes, Viserys finally made up his mind. But just as he was about to play, a voice came from outside:

"Lady Moonshadow, I've come to bring you a new theme."

The three of them looked at each other, then at the letter next to them, all appearing a bit confused.

"Asha, go and see what's going on."

"Yes," Asha replied, running out. Falia looked through the window to see who was coming. It was Andersen, his brother Vitus, and a messenger. After boarding the ship, they came to the boat.

"Lady Moonshadow, Lord Viserys."

It was Vitus who spoke.

"Lord Vitus, Lord Andersen," Falia greeted, standing up to welcome the two.

Viserys crossed his legs and made a face as if to say, 'What are you doing here?' "Didn't you just send the theme over? Why are you sending it again?" he asked, taking the teapot from Asha and drinking directly from the spout.

The messenger and the musicians were both shocked. They dared not offend such important people as Vitus and Andersen, but the 'Beggar King' didn't seem to care at all. Didn't he know that without land and people, he was nothing?

Falia and Asha were in the same predicament. Both knew they had no part in this matter and should stay out of it. Falia usually acted as a go-between, but now she and Viserys both represented the interests of House Zalyne to some extent. Their interests conflicted, and there was no need for cooperation. So her usual "business methods" were of no use.

Andersen realized that Viserys did not want to give them a warm welcome. He could only make a face that seemed to want to say something but couldn't. Vitus appeared indifferent, which was part of their plan. It seemed impossible to them that they could write two songs in such a short time that would be sung for decades.

Tormo suspected there was a traitor in their midst. He consulted with the Sealord and decided to change the theme at short notice. He also sent his sons to see what was going on. If the boy was really so talented, he would have to think of another solution.

Vitus said, "My father suspects that someone has leaked the theme of the song, so he consulted with the Prince and ordered a temporary change."

"Oh, the thief is crying for help. Give it to me," Viserys replied, taking the letter directly from the messenger's hand without offering any courtesy. His sarcasm, though translated from Valyrian, was clear to the educated brothers.

"Lord Viserys, please mind your manners," Andersen said, trying not to appear too weak in front of his brother.

"Don't worry, even if I'm rude, I'm not as rude as a rapist."

"You..."

Vitus glanced at Andersen, eyes full of contempt, but he remained silent. His expression suggested that Andersen had omitted some details.

"Oh, by the way, there are messengers for delivering letters. Why did you two come here personally?" Viserys asked.

"Please forgive us, Your Lordship. You are preparing for the tournament and composing music at the same time, achieving such good results. You are truly a man blessed by the gods. We happened to be passing by and wanted to see you," Vitus replied with a lukewarm attitude.

"Very good. Very much like the eldest son," Viserys remarked, knowing that people like Vitus often had a lot of "fake strength." They were always gentle and soft-spoken until the critical moment. Just like his brother, although far from Rhaegar, he was the same. Viserys was too lazy to provoke him further.

However, Andersen's face turned pale. Apart from his own father, when had he ever been so wronged? He opened the letter and saw that the theme this time was 'Braavos.' Braavos had not produced good music to praise it in several years. The Sealord likely changed the topic for this reason. But since it was a tribute to a place, he could simply change the lyrics.

The moment he saw the topic, a melody formed in his head. In front of the shocked eyes of the two brothers, Falia, Asha, the musicians of the Sealord's palace, and the messenger, Viserys said, "Come, give me the harp."

Chapter 68: Braavos’ Lover

With the third song being played, the Ten Day Festival had entered its final climax. There were still seven or eight songs performed at the festival, but three of these were written by Viserys. The last song, "Braavos' Lover," was played almost as many times as the others combined. Viserys had composed this song using the melody of "Scarborough Fair" and rewriting the lyrics. It was more intense than his previous song for Falia.

In the Sealord's Palace, Ferrego squinted and enjoyed the melody. He knew that with the spread of this song, Braavos would become more well-known.

"Play it again," he ordered. He had lost count of how many times he had it "shuffle-played." That morning, the musicians played all the songs for him as usual, and Ferrego immediately felt the song's charm, asking to hear it repeatedly.

"You know, if Viserys had been born a few years earlier—if he had been born at the same time as Rhaegar—would the Targaryens have lost the Iron Throne?" Ferrego asked Qarro, his chief swordsman and personal bodyguard.

"He's got the skills and the talent, but I don't know how good he is at leading men," Qarro replied.

At the age of 15 or 16, Viserys had not only composed three songs that would be sung for centuries but had also won the championship of the seventh ring. It was said that he had fought very easily so far and might even win two championships. This had never happened in the history of the Ten Day Festival.

Suddenly, Ferrego's eyes became fierce. "He's indeed a very talented boy, but even so, it is not enough to win the support of House Zalyne. What kind of promise did he make?"

"Investigate further!"

"Yes," Qarro replied.

...

On the other side, in the Garden of a Hundred Birds, Tormo, already frustrated, had driven away the musicians he had invited. "You're useless! So many of you, and you can't even beat a brat?" he fumed.

The result of the competition was clear, and his patience was exhausted. In truth, Tormo had bent the rules in his favor. He had put in significant effort to get the theme in advance, using considerable manpower and enlisting the most famous musicians in the entire Free Cities. They had the theme three or four days before Viserys, yet their work had only declined in quality.

Suppressing his boiling anger, Tormo couldn't help but wonder if the gods had abandoned his house. He didn't understand why his house had more healthy children than the Zalyne and Antaryon houses; he just took it as a divine gift. House Zalyne had been prepared to "bend the knee," but then Viserys came along.

"Tell the swordsmen that if they can't defeat Viserys, they can all leave Braavos!"

"Yes, father!"

"~Are you going to Braavos?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

For once she was a true love of mine~"

Unlike the Sealord's suspicions and Fregar's anger, Roth and his wife were pleasantly surprised. Methys became increasingly interested in the "genetics" of Viserys and his sister. However, her husband Roth said, "I'm afraid it won't work. Viserys seems to be preparing to join the Sellswords."

"Why..."

Methys wanted to say that he was living a comfortable and respectable life here; why would he join the Sellswords? But then she thought of what Viserys had to bear. It was a deep hatred that had destroyed his country and his family. No one would be likely to choose to stop.

"There have been multiple large mercenary groups inviting him to join recently. It seems he's using this competition to elevate his status within the mercenary ranks as much as possible," Roth explained.

Methys nodded, a hint of disappointment in her eyes, but soon another idea came to mind. "What about his sister? Is Viserys going to take her with him when he joins the Sellswords? I've never heard of such a thing."

Roth looked at his wife and saw her face suddenly light up. "Maybe we can ask him to leave his sister with us?"

Roth patted his wife's back affectionately and said with a wry smile, "Wouldn't that seem like taking a hostage? Even if we know it's not, how could we convince him?"

Methys realized the flaw in her plan and made a face like a little girl. Roth then said seriously, "It's clear that Viserys will win the poetry competition, but it's dangerous for him to insist on winning the swordsmanship competition."

Methys frowned, recognizing the truth in his words. The final round of the competition would have four bouts, giving Tormo plenty of opportunities to attack.

"If he really wants to win the Valyrian steel sword, I think I can lend him Wavecutter. That might reassure him enough to leave his sister with us," Roth suggested.

Methys was taken aback. "You're going to lend him our ancestral sword, Wavecutter?!"

Sensing something significant, she threw herself into Roth's arms. Despite the age difference when they married, her love for him was no less intense. Roth had decided to lend Viserys the ancestral sword after recently visiting the High Priest of the Temple of the Moonsingers to have Viserys' fate predicted. The high priest said he could not see Viserys's fate and expressed a desire to meet him. This convinced Roth of Viserys's extraordinary nature. He decided to take a gamble and give Viserys something as an "investment."

'Armor is too common. A Valyrian steel sword will make a real impression,' Roth concluded.

...

"I don't know who leaked Viserys's address."

The next day, as he was about to head to the main arena, a crowd had gathered at the door. The name "The Beggar King" had long been forgotten. Now, he was known by his latest song title, "Braavos' Lover." A prince of a fallen kingdom with superb swordsmanship, proficient in music, and blessed with good looks, he perfectly embodied the word "Underdog" to the people and tourists of Braavos.

"Viserys's carriage! It's his carriage coming out!" someone shouted, and the crowd surged forward.

Pretty Meris had arrived early with the intention of involving Viserys, but the scene before her caught her by surprise. The crowd was so dense that it was hard to squeeze through. Even with her 1.8-meter frame, she struggled to get in.

Jorah had also come early, but not only had he failed to see Viserys, his money bag had been stolen. He felt very unlucky!

Just as Viserys in the carriage was wondering how to get out, a blue-clad guard suddenly appeared from behind the crowd. "Back off! Back off!" The guards began to disperse the crowd, but it took considerable effort to clear the surging mass.

Among the enthusiastic onlookers, not far from Viserys's carriage, two pairs of eyes were peering. In a carriage that was not particularly conspicuous, Illyrio sat with a man who had dyed blue hair. He looked no more than forty years old, with neatly trimmed cheeks, though closer inspection revealed his hair roots were a grayish red.

Speaking in the common tongue, he conversed with Illyrio. He was Rhaegar's close friend, Jon Connington, now serving in the Golden Company under the alias "Griff."

In fact, in terms of moral integrity alone, this Jon can be called the Guan Yu of the Game of Thrones version. Both face the same problem. In the 'Romance of the Three Kingdoms,' Guan Yu let Cao Cao escape at Huarong Pass. And in Game of Thrones, Jon Connington let Robert escape, who was hiding in a prostitute's bed during the Battle of the Bells.

He could have burned down Stoney Sept, but because he did not want to kill innocents, Robert managed to escape.

"Are you saying that someone is secretly supporting Viserys?" asked Jon Connington.

"That's just my guess. I don't have any evidence yet," replied Illyrio.

Jon Connington looked at Viserys's carriage with worry in his eyes. If someone was truly supporting him, then they should be supporting Rhaegar's son, Aegon, the true heir to the Iron Throne. How could this Viserys take advantage of it?

"What do you plan to do, my lord?" asked Jon Connington.

"We spoke to him before. He said he would join the sellswords after the celebration. Perhaps we can let him join the Golden Company, and you can keep an eye on him."

"What about Aegon?"

Some time ago, Jon Connington was ready to leave the Golden Company to take care of Aegon. But after hearing more about Viserys from Illyrio, he had put the plan on hold.

"I'll try to send someone else," Illyrio said helplessly.

"Okay, I'll tell Viserys to join the Golden Company," Jon Connington said, and the two of them rode off to the finals.

Chapter 69: I Doubt It

The people of Braavos, especially those at the Sealord's Palace, are quite cunning. They did not disclose where the final arena would be. Instead, they secretly released news that one of three theaters—the Moon Pool Theater, the Sevenstar Theater, or the Purple Mist Theater—would be used.

These three theaters are the largest and most luxurious in Braavos, each capable of accommodating two thousand spectators.

Wealthy individuals and dignitaries, eager not to miss the competition or the chance to see the Sealord, bought seats in all three theaters. For instance, Meris secured seats in all three venues. The Golden Company and the Stormcrows, having participants in the competition, were directly allocated several seats.

Those with less money could only afford to buy seats in one theater, hoping luck would be on their side.

This strategy did not affect the poor, who could rarely afford to visit the theater, perhaps once every few months or even half a year. As the celebration began, ticket prices for the three major theaters soared, rising more than tenfold. However, the schedule for the final competition was made public, allowing the common folk to participate through "gambling bets."

Like when Jorah lost his money bag the other day, if not for a jewel he had on him, he would have struggled to eat. 'Viserys seems pretty strong. Why not bet on him?' Jorah thought. He counted out ten gold coins from his pocket and placed a bet on Viserys.

Viserys was set to fight in the first match of the first day. His opponent was a swordsman from House Zalyne who had just returned from a mercenary group. The man had met Jorah before and, though skilled, was not quite on par with Viserys.

"Any more bets! Any more bets! Braavos's lover Viserys versus the spear group's Benro! Any more bets!" Helbo shouted. The day before, he had won back all the money he lost betting on Viserys.

Unlike Jorah's rational judgment, Helbo had given up thinking. He had decided that no matter who Viserys fought, he would bet on him! Whether he would make a fortune or not depended on this.

Compared to the uproar outside, the theater was much more orderly. After all, everyone seated there was considered a decent person. Many had brought their servants, and, more importantly, the Sealord himself was present. Everyone was careful with their words and behavior.

Suddenly, a figure's appearance caused a commotion. The man wore a blue and gold brocade cloak and held a Dragonbone Scepter. It was Ferrego Antaryon, the Sealord of Braavos.

"Bow to the Sealord's Palace..." a voice commanded, and everyone bowed their heads to the central platform, like a large field of fallen wheat. Ferrego waved his hand, and the people around him shouted again:

"The Sealord announces that the Swordsmanship Tournament is ready to begin..."

Everyone sat down but continued to watch the central stand closely. Ferrego tilted his head slightly, and a servant whispered in his ear.

"My lord."

"Have Lord Roth and Lord Tormo join me here."

"Yes."

The two were both surprised by the Sealord's invitation. However, despite their surprise, it was impossible to refuse.

"My lord," they bowed to Ferrego.

"Sit down, my lords," he said, gesturing to the two chairs beside him.

They took their seats, one on either side of Ferrego.

"Who do you think will win the championship of this Swordsmanship Competition?" Ferrego asked.

"The swordsmen are all very skilled, each with their own strengths. I can't make a definitive judgment, but I have high hopes for a few of the mercenary swordsmen. They've experienced life and death, and their swordsmanship and mentality should be superior to that of the young," Tormo replied, referring to Viserys.

Roth, not to be outdone, voiced his support for Viserys. "When I see him, I think of myself when I was young," he said with a smile.

The other two thought to themselves, 'Isn't that just flattering yourself? Are you as handsome as him?'

"Although the champion swordsman will be decided after the competition, I think the winner of the music competition is already clear," Ferrego said. He was very pleased with the three songs Viserys had performed.

Roth smiled at this. After all, Viserys had at least won one championship, which was also important for Falia. In other words, his side had already won one and a half of the three championships, which was quite good.

"You mean..." Tormo asked in a flat tone.

"Yes, that Viserys Targaryen."

Roth said, his smile widening. "I'm honored to share your opinion, my lord. His songs will be sung for at least a hundred years!"

"Yes, he's a very talented young man," Ferrego agreed.

Tormo felt a bit upset seeing the two of them in agreement. "These songs are indeed very good, but, my lord, forgive me for being narrow-minded, but I always feel that these songs are not his work."

"Every time Viserys submits a piece of music, a messenger from the Sealord's Palace watches. If he didn't write it, who did?" Roth immediately argued.

"That's why I said I was narrow-minded. I want to know, this Viserys seems to be only fifteen years old this year. He came to Braavos when he was seven or eight, and he's been frequenting various social occasions in his teens, hoping to get an army to recapture the throne. Has he ever been a sailor?"

Roth sneered. "So according to you, every bard who recites the songs of the Knights must have been a knight before?"

"Lord Roth, that's not what I meant. I'm just saying that Viserys is too young. Take the first song; it's not something a teenager could compose. What does the Lord think?"

Ferrego knew that Tormo was still trying to "struggle" a bit. Although he intended to support House Zalyne, it was not good to be too obvious.

"There is some doubt, but it doesn't mean he has used any tricks."

Tormo smiled, sensing an opportunity. "I think that after the competition, we should ask him to compose another song in front of us. If he can produce a piece of similar quality, I will give him an additional 50,000 gold dragons in my name!"

Fifty thousand gold dragons. Roth glanced sideways. 'This guy is really rich.'

"But if he can't do it, I don't think the dragon egg should be given to someone like him."

Ferrego appeared thoughtful, then turned to Roth. "I think Lord Tormo's proposal can be considered. What do you think?"

Roth pondered. If Viserys truly had that kind of talent, it wasn't impossible. This would also be a good way to shut Tormo up. "It's all up to you, my lord, but what theme should we choose?"

Chapter 70: The Three Spectators

"Haha, no rush. Is Viserys the first or the last? Let's see what happens first."

With that, the discussion ended for the time being, and the tournament officially began.

After bidding farewell to Dany and the others, Viserys made his way to the arena. His arrival immediately drew the attention of the audience.

"That's Viserys! What a beautiful boy~"

"His eyes are really purple!"

"Hmph, the Beggar King is nothing."

"Look at his hair!"

The various whispers and comments blended together like a murky river, making it difficult to distinguish individual voices. Most people focused on his appearance, but some of the more discerning onlookers noticed something in his posture.

"Is that Viserys?" Daario asked.

"Yes, look at him. His sister can't be that bad. Fortunately, Bloodbeard didn't get his hands on her, or she would have been ruined."

Daario ignored his men. He could tell from Viserys's sword grip, stride, and eyes that he was no ordinary man.

"Let's see how he performs. If he's good, we'll raise his pay and invite him again."

Meanwhile, Jon Connington was also contemplating how to persuade Viserys to join the Golden Company. He wasn't afraid to spend money; the Golden Company had plenty of it, if little else. According to Illyrio, Viserys had invented a kind of soap, which must have earned him a considerable fortune, judging by his alliance with House Zalyne.

'Maybe I need to reveal my identity?' Jon Connington mused. If he could bring up Rhaegar, perhaps Viserys would agree to join the Golden Company. Not many knew that Viserys had been crowned by his mother, and Jon Connington, long expelled from Westeros, believed the heir to the Iron Throne could only be the bloodline of the Silver Prince in his heart.

Meris's eyes lit up when she saw him. She had nearly exhausted her gold coins just to buy the ticket, but she thought it was worth it. If she could recruit him, the leader would have to reimburse her!

Benro, who stepped onto the stage with Viserys, did not receive the same attention. He appeared to be around 34 or 35, with a brown beard covering half his face and a shallow scar on his forehead from a stray arrow.

"You shouldn't go against Lord Tormo," he said.

"Cut the crap. Do you chat with people before a fight?"

"Hmph!"

Seeing that Viserys had no intention of arguing, Benro fell silent.

"The competition begins..."

With a short blast of the horn, Benro made a tentative stab. Viserys easily dodged and taunted, "Is that all?"

"You'll regret this!" Benro retorted.

"Regret?" Viserys snorted. "It seems that nowadays, you have to fight sellswords with your mouth first."

His expression turned serious, and he stopped provoking Benro, focusing instead on fighting back.

"Up! Left! Down! Front!" Viserys called out his attacks, warning his opponent where to defend. Not only was he fast, but he also possessed significant strength.

The crowd watched in astonishment. They had never seen a match like this before; it was more like a lesson. The silver-haired boy was demonstrating his prowess in an extraordinary manner. Meris, Daario, and others secretly raised their bids in their minds.

Benro soon realized he couldn't keep up. What kind of monster is this? Viserys could attack, talk, and maintain his breath effortlessly, while Benro, after less than ten moves, was already flustered.

Benro's defense began to crumble. Finally, his sword slipped from his hand, and Viserys's blade grazed his beard, the cold metal pressing against his neck. Two breaths later, the referee declared, "Viserys Targaryen wins..."

Sealord Ferrego glanced at his personal bodyguard, Qarro, who showed a rare glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Ferrego knew that Viserys's swordsmanship had earned his approval. Beside him, Tormo frowned. None of his men seemed capable of defeating Viserys. In that case, he might not win any of the three championships.

Roth, however, was elated. Although he knew Viserys was strong based on his performance the previous days, he had never imagined this level of skill. He could already envision Viserys shining among the sellswords.

Meris's blue eyes were shining, but her confidence wavered when she noticed the Golden Company not far away. The Golden Company's strength was renowned across the Free Cities, and it had a long-standing partnership with the Iron Bank. If a creditor tried to default on a debt, the Golden Company was the first mercenary group the Iron Bank would turn to, and they always delivered.

If these guys wanted to recruit Viserys, Meris feared their chances of success were slim. She had to remember that Viserys was a Targaryen, and the founder of the Golden Company was a Targaryen bastard. This 'family connection' made her even more uncertain.

Meris's insecurity stemmed from her ignorance of noble affairs; the Targaryens and the Blackfyres despised each other with passion.

"How do you think we can get him to join us?" Meris asked the gray-haired man beside her.

"Mer, are you worried that we can't afford Viserys' price?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"In fact, I don't think money is the most important factor. The key is to find out what he cares about most."

"What he cares about the most..." Meris pondered for a while but came up empty.

As Viserys walked down from the arena, he smiled, but halfway there, he saw several white shadows flying toward him. Instinctively, he tried to dodge, but they turned out to be handkerchiefs in various colors—pink, white, and blue—each carrying the unique scent of a maiden. He had no choice but to catch them as he walked. By the time he returned to the room, his arms were full.

Dany, who had been overjoyed to see him, now wore a sad expression. Viserys noticed her change in demeanor and called out, "Regis!"

Regis quickly approached to take the handkerchiefs. "Get rid of these," Viserys instructed.

"Get rid of them?" Regis asked, puzzled.

"You decide."

Viserys glanced at Dany, then picked her up and spun her around, bringing a smile back to her face.

Just a few minutes earlier, outside the theater.

"The competition has begun!" someone announced, and everyone outside looked toward the theater as if they had X-ray vision. After a few minutes of tense waiting, a cheer erupted from inside.

"There's a result! So soon!" Jorah exclaimed, feeling uneasy. Despite having witnessed Viserys's strength, this was the final match, and he had bet half of his current wealth. If he lost, it would be a significant problem.

In contrast to Jorah's anxiety, Helbo appeared very relaxed. Although he didn't know much about swordsmanship, he recognized that Viserys's martial arts were extraordinary. His confidence was quickly rewarded as the bet of one hundred gold dragons was doubled.

Many people didn't understand swordsmanship; they simply liked Viserys and chose him, much like those who bet on the World Cup by picking the team from the country whose name they liked. However, for every winner, there were naturally losers. Most of the losers were the foot soldiers and thugs of House Fregar.

"Next time, we'll bet on the swordsman from House Fregar," said a man with long, narrow eyes, who looked like a small business owner.

"But this Viserys seems very strong. It seems he defeated his opponent in no time," another man noted.

The small business owner smiled contemptuously and replied, "Don't worry, he'll lose next time!"

Chapter 71: Mother of Dragons’ Lover

After watching the tournament, Ferrego was ready to leave. It was already quite impressive that such a notable figure had made an appearance. Halfway through the second tournament, Ferrego exited the theater under the escort of guards. Shortly after, Tormo also left, and the Roth arrived at Viserys' room.

"Lord Roth, Lady Methys," Viserys greeted the couple, with Dany following closely behind. The couple moved in perfect harmony. Methys walked towards Dany, and Kyla, who was standing nearby, instinctively moved closer but was stopped by a look from Viserys.

Roth then spoke of the tournament, praising it in his speech. "Lord Viserys' swordsmanship is, I believe, the best in all the Free Cities."

"You are too kind. I'm still young, and even a master must always keep an apprentice's heart."

"A master must always remain an apprentice! That's good, that makes perfect sense," Roth said, appreciating the sentiment, even though he knew it was just a figure of speech.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they got down to business. "I heard that Lord Viserys wants to join the sellswords."

"That's right," Viserys confirmed.

Roth's expression grew serious. "I can't say I understand your feelings, but I can understand your actions. However, I have one more question that I would like to ask."

"Please go ahead," Viserys invited.

"What is your real reason for participating in the tournament? I mean, apart from the Valyrian steel sword and the prize money."

"I want to increase my bounty."

"Increase... your bounty?" Roth didn't quite understand. But when Viserys explained it to him, he understood.

"Oh, to increase the cost of assassinating for the Usurper through the tournament."

"That's right."

Roth nodded. He had always thought that Viserys was only participating in the tournament to demonstrate his martial arts skills in order to improve his starting position when he joined a mercenary group.

"So, are you going to win the championship? Based on the strength you've shown so far, if someone wants to hire the Faceless Men to assassinate you, it will probably cost the same as hiring a mercenary group."

Viserys sensed Roth's intentions keenly, but the other party didn't seem malicious, so he asked, "Do you want me to stop here and withdraw from the swordsmanship competition?"

Roth thought for a moment and said, "It's not good for House Zalyne if you withdraw now, but I still hope that you can be more cautious. Tormo must have other methods."

Viserys nodded, and Roth's next proposal surprised him even more.

"You mean to lend me your house ancestral sword?!"

Viserys felt a little unreal. Had he reached such a level of value? Although he was slightly tempted, he still refused. That was a Valyrian sword, not a normal sword. Although it was sharp, tough, and light, according to the setting of the novel, the main function of a Valyrian sword was to kill the "Others".

He didn't need it for the time being in recent years. If he agreed to Roth's proposal, he would be indebted for a favor that wouldn't be worth the actual benefits. In short, it wasn't cost-effective.

So Viserys declined the offer. "Thank you, Lord Roth, for your kindness, but I want to say that my true strength is greater than what you see. I still want to compete for the championship in swordsmanship."

Looking at Viserys' expression, Roth knew he couldn't say anything else. What he saw on Viserys' face was not the arrogance of youth but a kind of powerful confidence. Since he had said everything he should have, there was no need to continue persuading him.

After chatting for a while, Roth gave Methys a wink. Before leaving, Methys reluctantly took Dany's hand, stroked it a few times, and insisted on giving her earrings.

"All women should have their ears pierced. I'll send someone to pierce your ears for you. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Thank you, my lady."

As he watched the Roths leave, Viserys was somewhat puzzled. Why did they think so highly of him? By ordinary standards, joining a mercenary group meant his best-case scenario would be becoming the next "Bittersteel." Could it be that Roth truly believed he could reclaim Westeros?

Just as Viserys was contemplating Roth's intentions, someone suddenly came to visit. A man in his thirties entered the room. His eyes were blue, and his beard and hair were dyed the same shade. It was said this was the style of the people of Tyrosh. He had coquettishly divided his beard into three prongs and carried a Dothraki scimitar on his left side and a slender sword on his right.

Regis and Kyla were on their guard, protecting Dany. But the blue-haired man showed no malice and introduced himself politely, "Lord Viserys, my name is Daario Naharis, from the Stormcrows."

"Daario," Viserys repeated, quickly recalling the man's identity. In the TV series, he was the one who stabbed his teammates in the back and then offered the Sellswords to the Mother of Dragons. He had a fling with her and became her most loyal general.

Viserys suddenly felt uneasy. Not only did he have to guard against those with "yellow hairs," but alsothose with "red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple" hairs. However, the Mother of Dragons in the original storyline was alone and had to resort to desperate measures.

Sure enough, Dany now only looked at Daario warily, her eyes showing no sign of trust.

"My lord, what brings you here?" Viserys asked inquisitively.

"I'm here to invite you to join our Stormcrow mercenary group. If you're willing, we'll offer you 2,000 gold dragons a year and the position of Sergeant Major," Daario replied. The Sergeant Major was a second-level combat unit leader, in charge of nearly 300 men. This was a highly generous offer for someone new to the group.

As he spoke, Daario glanced around and quickly spotted Dany hiding at the back, making his eyes light up.

"Your conditions are indeed generous, but I want to concentrate on the competition for now. I will give you a reply once it's over," Viserys responded.

Suddenly, Daario drew his Dothraki scimitar, startling everyone present. Viserys didn't know what he was up to but remained calm, confident in his power. Daario placed the scimitar horizontally on his hands and said, "Please give my scimitar to the beautiful lady. If she needs my sword, I will answer her call."

Viserys glanced at the scimitar, noting the gold-carved woman on the handle—an overly sensual design. Just as he was about to speak, Dany stepped forward and said, "Thank you for your kindness, but my brother's sword is the most powerful in the world! I don't need anyone else's sword."

'Okay, okay, okay. You're interested in my sister, aren't you?' Viserys thought, feeling a bit annoyed but pleased with Dany's firm response. The conversation ended on a somewhat cold note.

Daario had just left when another blue-haired man walked in. This one was older, with neatly groomed cheeks and carefully matched clothes. His facial features were more Westerosi. Viserys didn't recognize him immediately, but it was Jon Connington.

The next scene made Viserys even more cautious. The man turned around and closed the door to the compartment. Sensing something was wrong, Viserys quickly positioned Dany behind him. Kyla and Regis drew their swords and stepped forward, cornering the man.

But the next second, the blue-haired man knelt down and said, "Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys!"

Chapter 72: You Have Nothing to Do With the Targaryens

"Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys."

'What the hell!'

Everyone present exchanged glances, and Viserys struggled to recall the man's identity. The man in his forties then spoke up, "Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys, I am called Griffin, but that's my pseudonym. My real name is Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost. I once followed Prince Rhaegar."

Viserys paused, then said, "The Battle of the Bells?"

Jon Connington's body trembled slightly. "Yes, the Battle of the Bells."

The Battle of the Bells was a significant conflict during the War of the Usurper. Robert had been cornered by Jon Connington in Stoney Sept, forced to hide in a prostitute's bed to escape. Jon Connington could have burned down the town and killed Robert, but his honor wouldn't allow him to harm innocent people. This decision led to his expulsion by the Mad King Aerys. He later joined the Golden Company and rose through the ranks.

According to the original plan, Viserys and Dany should have left Braavos half a year ago and would not have encountered Jon Connington. Yet, here they were.

"I remember now. Get up," Viserys said.

Jon Connington looked up at Viserys, his tear-filled eyes glistening. Seeing the resemblance to Rhaegar, he struggled to compose himself, but his heart was filled with devotion to Rhaegar's 'orphan.'

"Are you still serving in the Golden Company?" Viserys asked.

"Yes. I was going to leave last year, but after hearing news about the two of you, I stayed."

"What are you doing here now?" Viserys's tone was cold, but Jon Connington thought he understood. He believed Viserys was resentful due to their shared hardships.

Feeling the need to explain, Jon Connington said, "I hope to follow the Prince and Princess."

"No need. You were banished by my father. You and the Targaryens no longer have any relationship of subordination. Follow whoever you want and live however you wish," Viserys said. He then turned to Kyla, "Kyla, escort this man out."

"Wait!" Jon Connington pleaded, thinking Viserys was angry with him for sparing Robert. "The late king Aerys was merciful and only banished me. But if it weren't for me, Prince Rhaegar and the late king wouldn't have... Please, give me a chance to atone for my sins."

The others were moved by Jon Connington's plea. To any bystanders, it might have seemed that Viserys was about to gain a 'confidant.'

However, Viserys frowned as he watched Jon Connington's performance. He stood up and placed a firm hand on Jon Connington's shoulder, making it feel as though an iron clamp was ready to crush it at any moment.

"Ser Jon Connington, you have not told the truth once since you entered," Viserys said.

Jon Connington's heart trembled, and his eardrums seemed to ring. He had no idea how he had revealed his weakness. "Prince, I don't understand what you mean," he replied nervously, a figure flashing through his mind.

"Don't you really understand?" Viserys squeezed his hand, sending a wave of numbness through Jon Connington's shoulder. His grip was terrifying.

"Please tell me, Prince."

Viserys bent down, bringing his face within half a foot of Jon Connington's, and stared into his eyes. "I'll say it one last time. Don't make me repeat myself, or I'll kill you the next time you appear before me."

Dany was puzzled by Viserys' cold attitude. This "Uncle" had followed Rhaegar and should be a good person.

She knew the story of the "Battle of the Bells" and that he was responsible for it. But Viserys had told her that some things should be judged by facts, not by heart. Why treat him like this?

Finally, after struggling for a while, Jon Connington said, "Rhaegar's child is still alive. I've been protecting him."

Rhaegar's child? Wasn't Rhaegar's child killed by the Mountain? Dany seemed to have heard explosive news and opened her eyes wide in disbelief.

Viserys sat back in his chair. "Tell me more. What is yours, Varys, and Illyrio plan? Tell me everything!"

'How—how is that possible! How could he know?' Jon Connington was horrified. He looked into Viserys' eyes and felt his insides being seen through.

In the end, Jon Connington told Viserys everything he knew. How Varys had switched the babies, how Illyrio had given the baby to him, and how he had pretended to be the baby's father and taken care of him.

"What about us? What about Dany and me? What did you arrange for us?" Viserys demanded.

Jon Connington didn't dare to answer. What they had arranged for Viserys and his sister was heart-wrenching. They wanted to use the siblings as decoys to attract firepower and ensure "Little Aegon" grew up safely. This was something Jon Connington wanted to keep hidden.

"Can't say it, can you? You think 'Little Aegon' has a better claim to the throne than me and Dany, so you put us on the front lines, leaving us to wander, to be assassinated, to be manipulated. Even if Dany were sold into a brothel and I were killed, you wouldn't care!"

Viserys's voice was stern, his tone icy, making Regis, who stood behind him, tremble.

"No!" Jon Connington's defense sounded particularly weak.

Ignoring him, Viserys continued, "If that's the case, why did you come to me? Just continue to train the little one, isn't that enough? Is it not enough to use us as shields? Do you want me to kneel down and pledge my loyalty to that little bastard?"

Jon Connington was already trembling. This involved his next plan with Illyrio. Viserys was growing up very quickly, and he was not only qualified as a decoy but also overqualified. They needed to keep Viserys under their complete control. Jon Connington's aim was to get him into the Golden Company and keep him under surveillance.

In a weak voice, as if justifying himself, Jon Connington said, "Prince, Aegon is the heir of Prince Rhaegar. The prophecy speaks of three dragons with three heads. Now is the time for us to take back the Iron Throne together!"

"What do I need with that broken chair? And when did you ever have anything to do with the Targaryens?" Viserys retorted. He then turned to Regis and Kyla. "Regis, Kyla, you can leave us. Guard the door."

The two men nodded and passed by Jon Connington, who was almost limp. Viserys pulled him to the table and wrote a sentence with his finger dipped in water.

Jon Connington couldn't believe his eyes. "This is impossible!" he exclaimed.

Chapter 73: A Targaryen’s Life is a Mess

"How is this possible?!"

"Keep your voice down." Viserys whispered, wiping the water stains from the table. "Whether it's true or not, you can find out for yourself. But I warn you, if you ever dare to put that idea into your head again, I'll cut it off! Get out!"

Seeing Jon Connington emerge from the room in a daze, Dany slowly walked towards Viserys.

"Brother," she said, her purple eyes fixed on him, as if she had understood something.

"Oh, my poor little Dany." Viserys hugged her tightly and stroked her head, trying to comfort her. He had the mind of an adult now, so it was fine for him to be schemed against. But these people were scheming against Dany as well. 'Damn it, a Targaryen's life is a mess!'

However, in Dany's eyes, was it really a hard life? She didn't think so. She felt no hardship being with Viserys.

What Viserys had written on the table was the true identity of "Young Aegon." It was only natural that Jon Connington couldn't accept it right away. But the man was smart enough. Viserys wasn't worried that he would go straight to Illyrio and Varys to ask questions. He would surely realize that if "Young Aegon" was an impostor, there must be a big conspiracy behind it. The wisest choice was to continue as normal.

In fact, Viserys didn't have any concrete evidence. But once the seed of suspicion was planted, it would sprout on its own. Perhaps Connington didn't want to believe it at first, but as he began to recall the details of his relationship with Illyrio, he would naturally discover some clues from the affection Illyrio had for "Young Aegon." Moreover, he didn't know who had leaked their plan. How did Viserys know about their scheme?

Connington might have been skeptical about Illyrio's guess that someone was helping Viserys in secret, but now he was convinced. At least, he dared not play any tricks on the brother and sister.

With the 'alliance' between the trio broken, Viserys looked forward to the day when Varys and Illyrio would begin to suspect each other and even try to kill each other. As for Connington, he still intended to use him. Connington was first-rate in terms of character, integrity, and personal ability. He had risen through the ranks in the Golden Company over the years. If he stayed, he might even become the leader.

There were rumors that Connington not only admired Rhaegar but also loved him. When he realized that because of his own mistakes, he had repeatedly put the only two blood relatives of the "Silver Prince" in danger, that kind of self-blame would make him extremely loyal.

Plus, it was Rhaegar who had interceded for him after the defeat in the Battle of the Bells. The Prince's kindness had been accumulating interest, and he hadn't yet repaid it.

Of course, Viserys would not treat him badly.

The next day, Connington appeared at the theater as usual, but his expression was tortured and complicated.

He looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept all night. On one hand, he didn't want to believe what Viserys had said. He truly hoped that Rhaegar had left a bloodline in the world. But on the other hand, he feared that he had really been deceived, and that would be a great sin. The reason he appeared as usual today was to not alarm the snake. He still needed evidence.

Regardless of Connington's turmoil, the tournament continued as scheduled. Yesterday's competition had determined the "top eight." This morning, the "top four" would be decided. In the afternoon, it would be the "top two." That meant the winner this morning would have to fight twice, which was very exhausting.

Viserys was scheduled to fight in the last match of the morning. If nothing unexpected happened, he would be in the first match of the afternoon. Sure enough, the first match was between a red-haired swordsman from House Fregar and a mercenary. The mercenary seemed to have been bribed; he pretended his sword broke and lost the match. The swordsman from House Fregar won without much effort, ensuring he would face Viserys in the afternoon with full energy.

The tournament quickly reached the fourth round. Many people were already impatiently waiting for Viserys to appear. Finally, the silver-haired boy emerged, and handkerchiefs and flowers were thrown at him as if they were free. This display left his opponent somewhat speechless, as if Viserys had already won.

This time, his opponent was from House Antaryon, the family of Sealord Ferrego. He was a young man in his late twenties or early thirties, with brown hair tied back and shining blue eyes.

"Lord Viserys."

"Lord Cole."

After the two exchanged greetings, the competition began. This was Viserys' first match without any trash talk, making him a bit uncomfortable. The swordsman named Cole was polite and fully immersed in the competition.

"Lord Cole, your steps are too unstable. You are agile but not stable enough," Viserys commented, starting his military training anew. This time, he wasn't as arrogant and used a voice only the two could hear to give advice. Cole was very receptive, trying to stabilize his steps, and it noticeably improved his performance.

Viserys gave him a few more pointers, all of which seemed to enlighten Cole. Feeling he had warmed up enough, Viserys said, "That's enough for now," and parried Cole's attack, placing his blade at Cole's neck. The match was decided, and Cole gratefully bowed to Viserys.

"Thank you for your advice, my lord."

"I've learned a lot from you as well."

"Viserys Targaryen wins!"

Last night, Jorah heard some rumors. Viserys seemed to have offended House Fregar, the strongest family in Braavos. People were worried about his fate, but House Fregar was not only ruthless but also powerful, so they only dared to grumble about it. Jorah thought he could no longer bet on Viserys winning.

"Viserys Targaryen wins..."

After hearing the news from the theater, Jorah investigated the backgrounds of the other three people who had entered the "top four." They were all from House Fregar. Jorah decided he should bet on Viserys losing next.

'Maybe he will die directly on the battlefield, and then I can capture Dany alive with Kyla. In that case, I might be able to get a pardon from the Iron Throne!' He envisioned a grand plan and thought he should raise the money for the journey. Counting the more than 100 gold dragons in his pocket, he set aside a small amount for living expenses and prepared to bet the rest on Viserys losing in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, on Tormo's side.

"Father, what should we do next?"

Tormo felt a little irritated for the first time. Viserys's swordsmanship exceeded his expectations.

"Is this Targaryen not seventeen years old yet?"

Vitus thought for a moment and said, "He's not even sixteen."

"He's not even sixteen, but his swordsmanship is so strong!" Tormo couldn't figure it out. He had targeted him so much, but it hadn't worked at all.

Vitus looked at his father quietly, waiting for him to make a decision.

"Don't worry about those two swordsmen. I just want this Targaryen's life!"

"Yes, Father."

Vitus knew he had to prepare some 'props' for the two swordsmen. Tormo felt frustrated for the first time. He had investigated the previous Andersen incident some time ago. Was this the feeling of failure, of being defeated time and time again by the same person?

'No! I must kill this Targaryen brat.'

Chapter 74: Props

The red-haired swordsman from House Fregar swept his sword, forcing Viserys to quickly distance himself. Just as he was about to counterattack, he felt his body swaying. Looking down, he saw two red streaks spreading from his chest. The red-haired swordsman attacked again, and though Viserys desperately dodged, he still lost an arm. Before he could react, the red-haired swordsman's long sword pierced his chest.

With all his remaining strength, Viserys looked toward his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the audience in a panic. Dany was rushing towards the arena like a madwoman...

"Ho—" Viserys gasped, waking up from his brief nap. His Dragon Dreams had been triggered. He looked at Dany, who was sitting next to him, fanning him, and began to relax.

"There's something wrong with that sword." Recalling the scene in his dream, he knew the swordsman's weapon must have some kind of mechanism. The mechanism fired a hidden weapon, and the hidden weapon was probably poisoned.

'Should I report it now?' He hesitated. After considering, he decided against it. If they could bring such a sword into the arena, they could probably switch it during the inspection. Unless it could be exposed on the spot, other plans would be difficult. Since he already had a prediction, he would watch the opponent's movements closely.

Viserys glanced out of the window of the room and saw that the audience was mostly seated. After the last match ended, he had chosen to rest in the room. Knowing Tormo might act out of desperation, he had used Dragon Dreams to make a prediction. Sure enough...

When Viserys woke up, Dany handed him a cup of honey water.

...

The finalists for the afternoon were about to be decided, and Ferrego was there again. Roth and Tormo were still present as well. In fact, Ferrego had only been there twice before, for the first and final rounds. However, suspecting Tormo of foul play, he decided to attend again, believing his presence would deter any brazen actions.

Yet, Ferrego hadn't expected Tormo to appear so confident. Tormo thought his "little move" was very subtle. Under those circumstances, Viserys was a dead man. As long as the swordsman finished him off, the wounds caused by the hidden weapons would be covered up, making even an autopsy futile. Tormo had instructed the swordsman to make the corpse as bloody as possible.

He had already envisioned his punishment for Viserys: beheading him and watching his sister become a whore for everyone to ride. 'A Targaryen brat and a Targaryen whore,' he thought with a sinister grin.

Tormo's expression made Roth uneasy, but he didn't pay it much attention. Even the high priest of the Temple of the Moonsingers couldn't foresee Viserys' fate, so how could he fail here? It was as if Roth knew Viserys was the protagonist, destined to face numerous obstacles and dangers along his journey. Although he didn't know the exact plot, he could tell from the progress bar that the end was still far away.

Viserys and the red-haired swordsman had already taken the stage, and the anticipation of the upcoming competition electrified the theater. Jorah had bet most of his fortune on the red-haired swordsman, doubting Viserys would make it to the finals. To compose a song like that was a divine gift; could the gods truly be so kind to one person?

Soon, the theater announced the start of the competition. Viserys parried his opponent's attacks while observing his movements. He needed to catch him in the act to cause the greatest damage to House Fregar. He would never let Tormo, that old bastard, get away with it.

The day before, Viserys had warged into the Seagull and visited Tormo's Bird Garden. The old bastard enjoyed listening to the birds chirp and drinking tea there. Viserys planned to peck out his eyes while he was relaxed, letting his sons fight among themselves.

However, Tormo not only had bodyguards but also a net overhead to prevent the birds from escaping. The nets were very strong, and the seagull couldn't peck them open by itself. Unless someone helped it...

To lure his opponent's attack, Viserys focused on defense, reducing the frequency of his strikes. Every now and then, he gave his opponent a chance to make a mistake. But the red-haired swordsman wasn't skilled enough to capitalize on the first two or three errors. Viserys' performance made Ferrego's chief swordsman, Qarro, frown. 'Why has this young man's swordsmanship suddenly declined so much?' he wondered.

As he pondered, the red-haired swordsman, Leon, finally caught Viserys' big mistake. He rubbed his thumb on the hilt of his sword, revealing two small holes, then swept sideways with a bit of force. His face twisted into a ferocious, bloodthirsty grin, ready to tear his opponent to pieces. However, to his surprise, Viserys did not retreat but stepped forward to block. The poisoned steel needle that should have flown out of the hilt fell out directly due to insufficient force.

Ding-dang~

Both fighters glanced down simultaneously. He knew he had been exposed and tried to kick the needle away. Panic set in, causing his offense and defense to fall into complete disarray.

From his seat in the center of the stands, Tormo noticed something was amiss. 'How is this possible? How could he—!' The scene before him made his eyes widen as he instinctively leaned forward. Ferrego and Roth also noticed his reaction but said nothing. No one wanted to explain it to Tormo.

Viserys cut off the red-haired swordsman's arm with his sword. Blood gushed out, splattering blood everywhere. The swordsman, sweating profusely, leaned against the corner of the arena. His severed arm still clung to his sword, making Viserys jump up.

'There's something wrong with his sword!' Several guards in blue rushed onto the arena in full view of everyone. Ferrego nodded to Qarro, who then entered the arena, causing everyone to move aside. He took the sword in his hands, examined it carefully, and picked up the steel needle from the ground. After ensuring there was nothing more to inspect, he took it to the center of the stands.

"What's going on?"

"What's wrong with the sword?"

"Isn't Viserys the winner?"

"By the gods, this is happening in Braavos. Shame on you!"

The stands were full of complaints, each spectator focused on different aspects of the incident. The inspection results came out quickly, and the referee announced, "The contestant Leon, who used a concealed weapon in the competition, is disqualified! Viserys Targaryen wins..."

Everyone knew Leon was a swordsman from House Fregar, but the Sealord didn't mention their family name first, a move intended to save face. However, it was clear to all that Leon was from House Fregar.

"This shameless fellow, please have the Sealord's Palace sentence him to death!" Tormo's face turned pale, but he had to maintain a facade of righteousness.

The Sealord, with a blank expression, declared, "According to the law, he should be stripped of all his property and expelled from Braavos."

This verdict made Tormo's face even more ashen. Braavos, as a commercial city, highly valued its reputation. Although House Fregar was powerful, its reputation was now tarnished, with far-reaching consequences for the future.

However, House Fregar wasn't the only one affected. Jorah now had to figure out how to survive in Braavos, where prices had risen seven or eight times, with only thirteen silver moons and forty-seven iron coins to his name.

Chapter 75: Simping Until the End

Swish—

Click—

In the Garden of a Hundred Birds, Tormo bent his bow and shot arrows at the delicate birdcages, venting his anger. Some birdcages were small, and the arrow stuck in them, causing the cages to swing like pendulums. Others were larger, and the arrows went straight through. His three sons stood behind him, silent and wary.

After shooting more than twenty arrows, Tormo finally calmed down. He turned to his personal swordsman, seeking advice. The swordsman explained that when facing a powerful sweeping attack, one should avoid it unless extremely confident in their own strength. Blocking such an attack was a tactic used by experienced swordsmen to bully novices. Even Qarro wouldn't have avoided the hidden weapon Tormo had given his swordsman. But Viserys had not only avoided it but had also exposed them publicly.

Despite the House Fregar's influence, their reputation was at stake, and the long-term consequences were uncertain. Peace was impossible. Viserys was not yet sixteen, but once he grew up, their conflict would reach a dead end. One side would have to fall.

"Do you still have any of the medicine you bought from Lys?" Tormo asked.

"Yes, Father," Andersen replied.

"Then give it to the swordsman."

"Yes."

Lys was rich in poisons, such as the "Tears of Lys" that killed Jon Arryn and the "Strangler" that killed King Joffrey. They also had other strange potions, including ones that could block human perception, making them unaware of pain and fatigue. These were precious and used only when absolutely necessary. But Viserys's strength was impeccable, with no weaknesses in his swordsmanship or physical fitness. The only choice was to exhaust him.

The potion Andersen bought could make a person attack relentlessly for about thirty minutes. In a normal swordsmanship competition, the winner would be decided within ten minutes. Thirty minutes was more than enough.

"A medicine?"

The father and son didn't say it explicitly, so Viserys's Seagull in the shadows had no way of knowing the effects of the medicine. But since it was for their swordsman, it must be some kind of stimulant. According to his memories from his previous life, stimulants lasted about half an hour to an hour. He could probably handle it with his own physical strength...

...

At this moment, Jorah had just lost 100 gold dragons and was left with barely enough money for food. If he used the summons, he would have only a dozen silver moons remaining.

"How much for the bread?" he asked.

"Two silver moons for a pound," the shopkeeper replied.

"That's expensive!" Jorah protested, recalling that just two days ago, he had paid only a silver moon for the same amount. Was the bread now made of gold, or perhaps the crumbs were?

The shopkeeper shrugged. "You think it's expensive? So do I! This flour comes all the way from Westeros."

"Fine, half a pound," Jorah conceded.

As he chewed the slightly cold bread, Jorah marveled at Viserys's prowess. In the arena, Viserys had not only dodged hidden weapons but also exposed his opponent on the spot. His skill reminded Jorah of Arthur Dayne. Though Jorah had never faced the "Sword of the Morning" himself, he was well aware of his legendary reputation. Viserys's performance evoked memories of Dayne's unmatched skill.

After the initial surprise, Jorah turned his thoughts to his future. Assassination seemed futile. Perhaps revealing himself and pledging loyalty to Viserys would be a wiser move. This would allow him to gather intelligence for King's Landing while giving him a chance to strike when the moment was right. Most importantly, it would alleviate his financial woes.

...

The direct victims of Viserys' victory, aside from House Fregar and gamblers like Jorah, included Lady Nightingale. On her ship, she could now hear the songs that Viserys "created" everywhere, underscoring his inevitable victory. Falia was already ahead in the beauty contest with her soap, but if Viserys won the championship, Lady Nightingale's fate would be sealed. Losing her greatest asset, she feared how House Fregar would "recycle" her. At seventeen, she couldn't wait for the next Ten Days' Festival.

Sitting on her boat, she felt the world crumble around her, sapping her motivation. Suddenly, she heard Kethmo's voice outside the window.

"Ave, I can take you away!" Kethmo called, his voice gentle yet firm. He had witnessed Viserys publicly accusing Leon of using hidden weapons, understanding the significance as a first-class swordsman. With Viserys's victory almost certain, Kethmo decided to escape with Gortave, even if it cost him his life.

Gortave smiled wryly, her face full of helplessness. "You can't escape. Fregar's power is more terrifying than you think."

"No! I have friends. If you decide to escape, I'll make the arrangements. Tomorrow's the final of the Swordsmanship Competition—our last chance!" Kethmo insisted.

Gortave remained silent, weighing her options.

"Ave, we can go to Lys, Pentos, Hall, the Great Grass Sea, even Westeros. I'll protect you until the ends of the earth!" Seeing her indecision, Kethmo continued to persuade her.

Gortave closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Let me think about it. Let me think about it..."

Her future was shrouded in confusion and fear.

In contrast, the atmosphere on Falia's side was more relaxed. However, news of hidden weapons in the competition shocked them.

"Lady Falia, I'm so worried about him," Asha said absentmindedly, gazing toward the theater as if she could see through it.

Falia wanted to voice the same concern but restrained herself, a habit instilled since childhood. She could only pray for Viserys's safety. The comfort was knowing they could attend the final tomorrow and cheer him on.

Falia was already confident she had won the beauty pageant and began contemplating her future. As a courtesan "sponsored" by House Zalyne, she would prioritize their interests. Though likely to be the ultimate winner, Falia also felt a lack of control over her own fate.

Chapter 76: One Last Effort

The final of the Swordsmanship Tournament was held the next morning. Inside the Sevenstar Theater, used as the main arena, chaos reigned. Many commoners who had gathered outside the theater hadn't left since the previous day. Among them was Jorah, once again.

Jorah's purse was nearly empty, and he didn't know how to place his bets. Having been the Lord of Bear Island, a mercenary, and a slave trader after fleeing Westeros, he had a keen understanding of human dynamics. He believed there was no room for maneuver between Viserys and House Fregar. The Fregars had paid a high price and couldn't afford to back down in the final, while Viserys wouldn't tolerate their actions against him.

Despite Viserys's rapid rise over the past half year, Jorah still favored the Fregars, whose roots in Braavos ran deep and strong. However, he hadn't yet seen the limits of Viserys's abilities.

Taking a silver moon out of his pocket, he muttered, "Fregar is heads, Viserys is tails." Flicking the coin with his thumb, the bright silver reflected the dazzling sunlight. Jorah spread his hands and looked at it...

...

Compared to Jorah's confusion, Helbo was elated. He had one steadfast rule: bet unconditionally on Viserys's victory. This strategy had already netted him nearly 4,000 gold dragons—almost as much as he had earned in the past two prosperous years combined.

Helbo wisely kept his initial stake intact and distributed the winnings among his men, ensuring no one became too greedy. He had even planned to use some of his earnings to buy two fine horses for himself, essential for a sellsword's mobility.

Inside the theater, the atmosphere differed markedly from the bustling commoners outside, who were betting and enjoying the spectacle. The theater's audience was composed of wealthy individuals eager to witness history. Viserys was poised to become the first "double champion" in over a hundred years.

"They say Targaryens are either mad or great. Viserys is definitely the latter!" remarked one spectator.

"Yes, and he doesn't look crazy at all," agreed another.

Viserys had no shortage of admirers in the crowd.

"Hmph, ruling a country and mastering swordsmanship are two different things. How many Targaryens have fled to the Free Cities over the past century?" a skeptic retorted.

"That's not the same thing. Viserys is a true Targaryen; those others were just pretenders!" a fan countered.

Overall, Viserys's supporters were in the majority.

"This time, the final features another House Fregar swordsman. Let's hope they don't resort to underhanded tactics again," said a young man under twenty.

"Don't talk nonsense!" his companion whispered urgently.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the chatter. "Look! It's Lady Moonshadow!"

Heads turned as people spotted Falia in a high room. With her successful soap sales and the popularity of Viserys's songs, Falia had earned the title of "the most beautiful courtesan." The beauty pageant wasn't just about physical appearance; it was about having a discerning eye. She had "discovered" Viserys's genius and sold soap that became a Braavosi specialty—a significant achievement. Though Falia felt she hadn't done much, her wealth had skyrocketed.

Waving to the audience below, Falia then noticed Lady Poetess, who was present only to represent House Antaryon. Their interaction was cordial. However, when Falia saw Lady Nightingale, she noticed something peculiar. Gortave was wearing a veil and sitting motionless, which struck Falia as odd. Yet, she dismissed it, focusing instead on the day's main event: Viserys's competition.

"It's the Sealord's Palace!" someone exclaimed.

As the most important competition of the Ten-Day Festival, Ferrego's presence was essential. Yesterday's incident had dealt a significant blow to Ferrego and marred the celebration. Fortunately, Viserys' three songs had mitigated the damage. There could be no further issues in the final round.

Roth and Tormo accompanied Ferrego. "Qarro, have you dealt with the swordsman from yesterday?" Ferrego asked directly, in Tormo's presence. Despite House Fregar being the most powerful of the three houses, Ferrego, as Sealord, needed to assert his authority.

"Yes, Sealord, he has been banished from Braavos," Qarro replied.

"Good. Lord Tormo, be more careful in the future."

"I will remember your kindness, my lord," Tormo responded with a stern expression.

At this point, Roth, who had been silent, joked, "I see that Lord Qarro is very interested in Viserys."

"I'm getting old, and I can't help but be impressed by talented young people. I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord," Qarro replied.

"Sometimes I even think my apprentices aren't very good. If Viserys could be the Sealord's First Sword, that would be great," Qarro added, unobtrusively patting Ferrego on the back.

"Haha, that's an interesting idea, but I heard that Viserys is planning to join a mercenary group," Ferrego said.

'Join a mercenary group?' Ferrego thought. It seemed this young man intended to build an army with his abilities. However, while he was an excellent swordsman, building an army was a different challenge. His predecessor, 'Bittersteel' Aegor, had created the Golden Company but was ultimately left on the continent of Essos. In Ferrego's opinion, Viserys was likely to become the next "Bittersteel."

A chill flashed in Tormo's eyes. 'After going against me, he thinks he can just leave? There's no such thing as a free lunch,' he thought.

Roth, observing their reactions, added, "This Viserys seems very interested in the dragon eggs. If you want him to stay, you might try using the dragon eggs."

"Haha, then he must be the most expensive swordsman in the world," Ferrego laughed. Rumors suggested he owned three dragon eggs, but the Sealord had always denied it. Even the dragon egg that was the prize this time had been redeemed through the Iron Bank. Whether Ferrego actually possessed a dragon egg remained a mystery.

Soon, a short blast of the horn signaled the start of the final. The previously boisterous crowd fell silent and focused their attention on the temporary arena built on the stage.

Chapter 77: Time Challenge

Before going on stage, Darklane took the pill Andersen had given him. He knew it might harm his body, but he had no choice. He was a member of House Fregar, and despite the ban on the slave trade in Braavos, there were other ways to control people. His family was under House Fregar's control. If he disobeyed...

Darklane had no choice but to accept the arrangement. As long as he won the competition, everything would be fine. Now, he felt a surge of power coursing through him. His lungs felt cool, as if he had swallowed a large piece of ice. He took a deep breath as he watched Viserys approach the arena from the other direction.

Judging by the previous bouts, Viserys's swordsmanship was quite advanced—at least technically superior to his own. The only way to win was to outlast him. Darklane, not yet thirty, was at the peak of his swordsman's life, with top-notch physical strength, technique, and power. In his opinion, while Viserys might have a natural talent for swordsmanship, he was still not fully grown. Darklane believed he could win by outlasting him, especially since the medicine made him stronger and tireless. He still had a good chance of victory.

Just as the judge was about to announce the start of the match, Viserys suddenly said, "Wait!"

Everyone was surprised, uncertain of his intentions. "I demand that the weapons of both sides be inspected!" He thrust his sword into the ground, indicating it could be inspected at will.

"It should be inspected!"

"Yes, who knows if the swordsman from House Fregar will use hidden weapons again."

"But the Sealord is also here; they can't play tricks twice in a row."

Various discussions erupted. Roth, seated in the center of the bleachers, said, "My lord, I think we should inspect it to dispel doubts. After all, it also protects Braavos' reputation."

"Hmm, that makes sense," Ferrego nodded in agreement. "What does Lord Tormo think?" Roth asked, pressing his advantage.

"Then let's do it as soon as possible," Tormo frowned slightly.

Ferrego signaled to Qarro, who led his men to the arena and collected the two men's weapons for inspection.

At this point, the audience agreed with Viserys's approach.

"That's the way it should be."

"Weapons should be inspected before every competition in the future!"

"What about the honor of the swordsman? This can't happen again!"

The crowd buzzed with various opinions.

"My lord, please check my sword first," Viserys said.

"No rush, it'll be quick," Qarro replied.

"Then check it twice, and let all the spectators see it," Viserys insisted.

Darklane's expression darkened at the suggestion. With nearly 2,000 people in the theater, such thorough inspections would take too long, rendering the medicine's effects useless.

Qarro, however, did not heed Viserys's advice. The First Sword of the Sealord was in a hurry and unwilling to waste more time. After five or six minutes, Qarro returned the swords, indicating everything was normal. The competition was ready to resume after nearly a ten-minute delay.

During this time, Darklane felt the cool sensation in his lungs begin to fade, replaced by a warming feeling. His blood flow and heartbeat quickened. 'I need to let off some steam,' he thought.

"Any other questions?" the judge asked.

"Yes," Viserys said. "I suggest we search him again, just in case he's hiding any hidden weapons or lime."

The judge thought this was excessive, but since House Fregar had already done it, he had to consult the Sealord again. The result, predictably, was negative. Ferrego could reprimand Tormo but doing so too harshly would be akin to disrespecting him, leading to unpredictable consequences. However, this request still took an additional three minutes.

In the meantime, the effect of the pill had already worn off by half. Where Darklane had initially felt warmth in his lungs and body, now it was burning hot. He felt like a sports car burning its tires in place; if he didn't release the brakes, he might be ruined.

Finally, with the referee's order, Darklane could no longer hold back. He let out a strange cry and rushed towards Viserys, his attacks wide open and aggressive. The two swords clashed, sending sparks flying and eliciting gasps from the audience. The dramatic "special effects" made the tournament thrilling to watch.

However, knowledgeable spectators noticed the flaws in Darklane's strategy. His all-out assault was unsustainable. It seemed he wanted to end the fight quickly. But as the minutes ticked by—three, five, ten—Darklane showed no signs of exhaustion; instead, he grew fiercer. Viserys, meanwhile, was forced into full defense, unable to launch any counterattacks.

Only Darklane knew the truth: he was like a wave crashing against a cliff. Though he was making all the noise, the cliff passively absorbed the impact. While his own strength would eventually deplete, the cliff would remain standing. Viserys had used less than a third of his strength, biding his time to see the pill's side effects. If the pill didn't kill Darklane, Viserys might even consider using it himself in a dire situation.

Among the concerned spectators, Dany gripped the railing tightly, her fingertips turning white from the pressure. Falia clutched her handkerchief, as if willing her support to Viserys. The First Sword Qarro, observing closely, gained new respect for Viserys's defensive skill. Despite not attacking, Viserys was defending effectively, revealing the abnormality of Darklane's relentless assault.

Viserys, closest to the action, noticed blood oozing from Darklane's nostrils, partially hidden by his beard. 'This drug is too strong,' he thought, as their swords locked together.

"Give up, you're no match for me," Viserys said, looking into Darklane's bloodshot eyes.

But Darklane didn't appreciate the advice. His eyes bulged, and his mouth puckered in a jet-like shape. Viserys quickly ducked as a thick mist of blood sprayed across the arena, accompanied by a sound like tearing cloth.

Chapter 78: Victory Kiss

That mouthful of blood mist seemed to drain all of Darklane's vitality. His vision blurred, and he spun around, searching for Viserys. Finally, he spotted a vague silver-white shadow and rushed forward, but instead of swinging his sword, he charged with his chest.

Viserys understood that Darklane wanted to die with dignity, preferring to fall by the sword rather than succumb to the poison pill. So, Viserys thrust his sword into Darklane's chest. The sharp blade pierced through, and a faint smile crept onto Darklane's lips.

"Thank..." he began, but his sentence was cut short as his body crumpled to the ground. The theater fell into a moment of silence. The sight of the silver-haired boy, the limp corpse, and the spreading blood formed a tragic tableau.

"Oh..."

"Oh..."

"Oh..."

"Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

"Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

The crowd's cheers erupted, echoing outside the theater. Jorah's face changed, and he felt a tremor run through his body.

"Viserys Targaryen wins!"

Countless handkerchiefs were thrown into the air as people celebrated. They didn't seem to care who had fallen, as long as there was a victor. But there were those who genuinely hoped for Viserys's triumph. He saw Regis roaring and shouting, Kyla expressionless, and Dany smiling.

He blew a kiss to Dany. Though she didn't quite understand the gesture, she felt something and blushed slightly. After all, young girls can be shy. Viserys enjoyed the moment, knowing it wasn't impolite. The kiss became a ritual for lovers before parting after the tournament.

His gaze continued to scan the crowd and locked with a pair of green eyes—Falia. She quickly looked away when she realized he was looking at her. Asha, on the other hand, waved enthusiastically and blew him a kiss just as he had done. Falia gathered the courage to extend her long, white neck, but Viserys had already shifted his gaze.

He looked up to the center of the stands, first bowing slightly to Sealord Ferrego, then smiling and acknowledging Roth, and finally locking eyes with Tormo. It was as if iron arrows shot from their eyes collided mid-air. Tormo secretly decided he would not let Viserys leave Braavos easily.

Viserys felt something change on his panel. He checked it and saw that his swordsmanship had improved significantly:

————

Swordsmanship: - Master (8900/10000) +

————

He realized he was about one-tenth of the way to becoming a Master. 'I wonder what level lies beyond Master,' he thought.

Viserys didn't plan to focus on improving his swordsmanship for a while. He intended to enhance it through actual combat in the future. He hadn't even used half of his strength in the competition. Since he was joining the mercenaries, he should focus on improving his riding and archery skills, as well as his warg abilities.

In short, many skills needed improvement, requiring more resources. The blue dragon egg could be used to gain 10 more GP, with an allocation of 0.5 GP daily. In ten days, that's 5 GP; in three months, 50 GP; and in one year, 200 GP. If the upper limit for attributes like Constitution, Health, and Magic was 100, what use were the extra points? He also wondered if the Valyrian Steel Sword could provide some points...

As Viserys was about to leave, a young man in a blue cloak descended from the center stand. He was Ferrego's personal guard.

"Lord Viserys, please follow me."

The guard's choice of title—"Lord" instead of "Prince"—revealed the Sealord's stance. Ferrego had no intention of helping Viserys reclaim his kingdom. He was merely a witness to the "secret marriage pact." But Viserys didn't mind. When he demonstrated enough strength, people would clamor to share in the "achievements of the dragon."

He glanced at Darklane's body on the ground, considering having it collected. However, he worried that Tormo, the old lord, would take out his anger on his family, so he decided against it.

Following the guard, Viserys reached the center of the stands. The blue-cloaked guards saluted him, their faces showing envy, jealousy, and admiration. Ascending the spiral staircase, he saw the three people seated there. Everyone, including the attendants behind them, turned to look at him. Ferrego and Roth smiled, while Tormo remained expressionless.

"Lord Ferrego Antaryon," Viserys bowed.

"Viserys, the last time we met was five years ago," said Ferrego.

"Eight years ago, my lord, around November," Viserys corrected, recalling the winter day despite the summer air.

"Haha, I'm getting a bit old; my memory isn't what it used to be."

It was clear Ferrego didn't want to dwell on the past. As a ruler, such a lapse in memory was likely intentional, signaling twice that he would not involve himself in Viserys's restoration.

A guard brought a stool, markedly inferior to the grand chairs of the three lords, but Viserys sat down leisurely.

"Are you going to join the mercenaries?" Ferrego asked.

"Yes, I'll leave after receiving my prize and bonus," Viserys replied with a smile.

Ferrego and Roth exchanged glances and laughed.

"Then you've made quite a profit. A dragon eggs and Valyrian sword alone are worth a fortune."

"That's why I came. If there are more dragon eggs in the next prize, I'll definitely return," Viserys joked, easing the atmosphere. Everyone, except Tormo, smiled knowingly.

Hearing that Viserys was indeed leaving, Ferrego visibly relaxed. If Viserys remained in Braavos and grew unruly, it could cause problems. Robert might perceive Braavos as supporting Viserys, which could lead to complications. Even if war was unlikely, it could affect trade—Ferrego's primary concern.

"Well, come visit me at the Sealord's Palace tonight, and I will give you the dragon egg and Valyrian steel sword myself," Ferrego said.

Chapter 79: You Don’t Have the Answer I Want in Your Eyes

After the tournament concluded, Ferrego announced that all theaters and troupes in Braavos would perform for free. Musicians and singers were also required to entertain tourists without charge. However, they could visit the Sealord's Palace afterward to receive a reward. This decision was not out of Ferrego's generosity but a strategic move to collect a bit more tax this year.

Viserys, assured by Ferrego's promise, waited patiently for nightfall to claim his prize at the Sealord's Palace. Tormo had initially planned to create obstacles, but he soon received devastating news: the "Nightingale" had fled, leaving only her maid behind. Enraged, Tormo ordered the maid's execution and dispatched men to kill Gortave and Kethmo. Meanwhile, the rest of the city plunged into the carnival's climax.

"It's confirmed that Viserys has rejected the Stormcrows' invitation," Dick reported to Meris.

Touching her broken nose, Meris responded, "He turned down the Stormcrows, the Company of the Cat is at odds with him, and he seems uninterested in the Second Sons. Does that mean it's just us and the Golden Company now?"

"It looks that way," Dick nodded.

"Then let's go!"

Viserys was anticipating the Windblown's arrival. He had already begun gathering information about the Disputed Lands and the Windblown. The three Free Cities had been in conflict here for years, with the Dothraki in the northeast being a constant menace. Amidst such turmoil, a well-organized mercenary group could quickly establish a reputation. The Windblown had a blood feud with the Company of the Cat, who had been causing trouble since arriving in Braavos. Viserys saw an opportunity to eliminate them if given the chance.

Additionally, he noted that famous sellsword companies had distinctive traits. The Golden Company collected the skulls of their former captains. The Long Lances were known for their cruelty and bloodlust. Bloodbeard, leader of the Company of the Cat, was lustful, bloodthirsty, and boisterous. The Tattered Prince of the Windblown, in contrast, was elegant and spoke High Valyrian.

As Viserys considered forming his own sellsword company, Dany suddenly ran in. Seeing him surrounded by maps and books, she slowed her pace. He had just finished a tournament and was already contemplating his next move.

"Brother."

"What is it?"

"The fat merchant is here."

'Illyrio!' Viserys thought for a moment. He probably wanted to discuss his joining the Golden Company.

"Do you want to come with me to see him?"

Dany nodded hesitantly.

"If you don't want to go, you don't have to."

Dany shook her head again.

"Okay, then you should think about what you're going to bring. We'll be leaving Braavos soon."

"Okay."

Viserys quickly tidied himself up and went to meet Illyrio. By now, Illyrio must have settled his accounts with Varys, making this meeting potentially interesting. It would be a game of "I know you know" and "Do you know what I don't know?"

Illyrio was still clad in a red robe, though of a different style. The gold jewelry and his reddish-golden hair and beard still gave him the air of a nouveau riche.

"Prince Viserys."

"Master Illyrio."

The fat merchant began with exaggerated praise of Viserys's martial prowess and talent, expressing amazement and envy from various angles. Then he shifted the conversation to the mercenary group, revealing that he had already spoken with Jon Connington, who suggested giving it another try.

"If the Prince is interested in joining a mercenary group, have you considered the Golden Company? I have some friends there who can introduce you."

"Thank you for your kindness, but I have no intention of joining the Golden Company. It's precisely because I know too many people there that I don't want to go."

Viserys smiled and added, "Have you forgotten who founded the Golden Company? Aegor Rivers, a Targaryen bastard. How could I possibly join?"

Illyrio sensed something amiss. Viserys had always seemed pragmatic, so why refuse the Golden Company for this reason?

"But the Golden Company is the strongest mercenary group on the continent of Essos. Aegor founded it to reclaim the Iron Throne, which is your goal as well!"

Viserys suppressed his expression and waved his hand dismissively. "My lord, only bastards covet what belongs to legitimate children. How could legitimate children covet what belongs to bastards? It's a disgrace! And you forgot? They laughed at me. At the Crown Banquet, they called me the Beggar King."

Illyrio felt a pang of bitterness. How could he have forgotten? But he was not ready to give up.

"You can change your name, and then, with enough experience, start your own mercenary group!"

"The proud dragon blood surges through my veins, and I will never change my name!" Viserys declared.

Suddenly, Illyrio seemed to have a revelation. 'Could it be that he has discovered something?!' With this thought, he abandoned trying to persuade Viserys to join the Golden Company.

"Which mercenary group are you going to join? With the Prince's martial skills, you must have many options, right?"

Just as Viserys was about to respond, a maid entered to announce, "My lord, Meris of the Windblown wants to see you."

"Please send her in."

Illyrio's eyes twitched, suspecting that Viserys might want to join the Windblown.

Soon, a tall blonde woman with scars all over her face walked in, accompanied by a shorter, gray-haired man. The deep scars on Meris's face made it look as if she was wearing a crude mask.

"Lord Viserys, I am Meris, and this is Dick."

"Lady Meris, Lord Dick, this is Illyrio."

Meris couldn't recall who Illyrio was, but his build did not suggest a sellsword.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the conversation turned to business. "Lord Viserys, I've come on behalf of the Windblown to invite you to join us. What do you say?"

The fat merchant's expression hardened, sensing that his man might be poached. He turned to look at Viserys, but Viserys's eyes did not reveal the answer he was seeking.

Chapter 80: Dragon Egg (1/5)

"Then please tell me about your situation."

Meris saw an opportunity, and her blue eyes lit up. "Our leader is the Tattered Prince, as you might know. The Windblown has 2,000 cavalry, more than twice as many infantry, and military servants, totaling 6,000 people. We operate in various regions and have engaged in recent battles..." Meris spoke for over ten minutes, detailing their operations. Whenever she mentioned the Tattered Prince, Dick would nod in agreement, indicating the leader's high reputation within the group.

"What kind of offer can you make me?" Viserys asked, signaling the end of Illyrio's attempt to recruit him for the Golden Company. Illyrio realized this as well, while Meris grew more enthusiastic. 'The old man would be thrilled to have someone like Viserys!'

"If you join us, you could be the deputy sergeant-major with an annual salary of about 2,000 to 3,000 gold dragons," Meris said, though she felt a bit insecure. She knew Viserys could earn at least 100,000 gold dragons in prize money alone from the tournament. Five thousand gold dragons was insufficient. However, she quickly realized that Viserys wasn't joining for the money.

"Deputy sergeant? Can't you make me a sergeant? Master Illyrio here is offering me 5,000 gold dragons a year and the position of sergeant with the Golden Company," Viserys said, catching Illyrio off guard. Illyrio hadn't made that offer, but he smiled, not wanting to contradict Viserys.

"Well, it's not impossible, but..." Illyrio began, but Viserys interrupted.

"Let's not talk about that now. I have two conditions. Can you agree to them?"

"Please go ahead," Meris said.

"First, I'll sign a one-year contract at most, with the option to renew based on performance. If I don't meet your expectations, you can choose not to pay me."

Meris glanced at Dick, who nodded. "That should be fine."

"Second, you know my identity. I have a younger sister who is in her teens years old. I want to bring her along."

"Prince Viserys, if you trust me, Dany can stay with me," Illyrio interjected.

"I'm sorry, Master Illyrio, but my siter and I must stay together," Viserys insisted.

Meris hesitated. While the profession of sellsword had become more professional, there were still few instances of family members accompanying the army. Usually, only those fathers and brothers who were all sellswords traveled together. Nevertheless, Meris was determined to make this decision for her captain, even if it meant facing consequences. In her eyes, the captain had given her a second life.

"Fine. When can we sign the contract?" Viserys asked.

"Anytime, but it will take at least a week to get out of Braavos," Meris replied.

"No problem."

Meris couldn't believe how smoothly things were going. 'The captain would be thrilled to welcome such a champion into their ranks!' If only he weren't so attached to his raven, he would have received the news in three or five days at the most.

Seeing that Viserys had decided to join the Windblown, Illyrio abandoned his efforts to recruit him for the Golden Company.

"Master Illyrio, you deal in dragon eggs and dragonbones. Could you help me acquire some eggs?" Viserys asked.

"That's no problem, but what do you want them for?" Illyrio responded, curious.

Viserys knew he couldn't hide his intentions any longer. "Of course, to hatch a dragon. What else would I use them for?"

"Oh, uh, okay." The fat merchant was momentarily speechless. He realized he needed to reassess Viserys's value. Dragons had been extinct for ages, and even if one hatched, how would Viserys manage it? He sensed the Targaryen madness stirring in the young man's veins.

In addition, Viserys had requested a variety of dragonbone items: rings, necklaces, belts, and other such nonsense. Though these items were worth only a few thousand gold dragons collectively, Illyrio decided to charge him since Viserys now had money.

Viserys thought, 'If you want me to be a target, you old man, you have to give me gold.' He had no intention of paying.

...

It was almost evening when the Sealord's carriage arrived to pick up Viserys. He and Dany, dressed in her finest, approached the elaborately decorated blue carriage. The axles were embossed with seahorses, and the top of the carriage arched like a turtle shell, adorned with inlaid shells.

Viserys, Dany, and Kyla sat inside the carriage, while Regis rode alongside on horseback, serving as Viserys's attendant. With his head held high, his bald head gleaming like a golden egg in the setting sun, he looked particularly dignified, almost as if he were the champion of the tournament.

Noticing Dany's nervousness, Viserys took her hands in his own, wrapping them gently. "Don't be nervous, Dany. The Sealord's Palace is nothing. I'll show you even more magnificent places in the future." The warmth of his palms helped Dany relax considerably.

Viserys examined Dany's hands and noticed the light yellow calluses from her relentless swordsmanship practice. She had worn out three pairs of gloves already, though still far from mastering the skill. Yet, she was intimidating enough for ordinary people and showed great promise for the future. As a dragon rider, shouting "Dracarys (Dragonfire)" would suffice; why bother with tactics when you have firepower?

The three of them chatted as they rode, and soon they approached the Sealord's Palace. Through the window, they admired the blue palace, moved by its grandeur. Viserys, in particular, felt a rush of memories from his previous visit when he had secretly met with Ferrego.

Upon arriving, a servant placed a blanket-covered step in front of the carriage door. Viserys was the first to step out, turning to help Dany. They stood at the entrance of the Sealord's Palace, peering inside to catch glimpses of fountains and a tall statue.

Viserys knew it was the statue of the sea dragon. He had memorized the layout of the palace during his previous visit. As they walked forward, they glanced at the blue-robed guards, who reminded Viserys of the gold-cloaked guards in King's Landing. It was hard to tell who imitated whom. These guards were clearly elite, exuding a pressure that demanded respect. Even Regis, who had previously been arrogant, appeared a bit subdued. Dany, still nervous, managed to maintain her composure by staying close to Viserys.

They passed through the main gate, traversed the square, bypassed the five-meter-tall statue of the sea dragon, and passed through two more doors, walking nearly twenty minutes before arriving at the "Sealord Hall."

'Luckily it's not the Forbidden City, or this distance would have been just a warm-up,' Viserys thought, comparing it to his memories from his previous life. Through the doors of the Raging Waves Hall, he could see a crowd inside.

"Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen..." the guard announced.

Viserys felt a brief moment of silence in the hall. As they crossed the threshold, he saw at least a hundred people, all Braavosi nobles. They might not hold real power, but they were certainly from distinguished families.

In an instant, hundreds of eyes turned to the siblings, sizing them up. The scrutiny made Dany's breathing falter slightly, but after months of swordsmanship practice and Viserys' teachings, she quickly adjusted, letting a smile appear on her lips.

"What a beautiful girl."

"What a handsome young man."

Some of the nobles finally had the opportunity to see the siblings up close and couldn't take their eyes off them. While they observed Viserys and Dany, Viserys observed them in return. The Braavosi nobles, aware that plain black and white clothing was dull, often added patterns to their garments. Many used gold thread to hem their clothes or incorporate their family's crests, making even black and white attire look shiny and elaborate.

Viserys soon spotted several familiar faces in the crowd: Andersen, Vitus, Tormo, and other members of House Fregar.

Tormo and Vithas looked at Viserys with indifference, as expected, but Andersen gave him a meaningful glance, as if he had something to say. Viserys guessed that Andersen had "figured something out."

Among his "old rivals" were also the Roth, who were the first to greet Viserys and Dany. "Lord Viserys, this outfit suits you very well!" Roth commented, glancing at the red three-headed dragon on Viserys' chest.

"Lord Roth looks very spirited today as well!" Viserys replied.

Dany, initially embarrassed, gradually relaxed under the guidance of Methys, who introduced her to a group of noblewomen. However, Dany's temperament set her apart. If these noblewomen were all flowers of the world, then Dany was like a small sapling—fragile now, but destined to become someone they would one day look up to.

"I heard that you have decided to join the Windblown?" Roth asked.

"Yes, my siter and I will leave Braavos in about a week."

"Then, if you have time in the next few days, you must come to my place and let me host you."

"No problem. Since Lord Roth has invited me, I will definitely attend the banquet."

"The Sealord is here..."

Another loud announcement echoed through the hall, followed by a sound like waves. Ferrego, wearing a blue brocade robe, a crown on his head, and holding a black dragonbone scepter, appeared. Behind him was a priest in a pale robe. As soon as everyone saw Ferrego, they fell silent.

"My lords, this year marks the 623rd anniversary of Braavos' founding. Let us once again thank the Goddess of the Moon for her guidance." He made a circle on his chest, then closed his eyes and bowed his head. The crowd followed suit, praying and giving thanks. The Temple of the Moonsingers remained the dominant religion in Braavos, despite the introduction of other faiths over the centuries.

After a moment, Ferrego looked up and cleared his throat, signaling the others to look up as well. "This is the 200th celebration in Braavos, and this celebration is different from the past. A name will be remembered."

Ferrego pointed towards Viserys, and the crowd turned to look. Most were envious or admiring, though a few cold glances came from House Fregar.

"Lord Viserys has composed three songs that will be sung for centuries to come. In appreciation, I will increase the prize money by 50,000 gold dragons!"

"Mm!"

"Yes!"

"It's only right!"

"That's it."

The crowd responded with a chorus of approval. Viserys thought it would be nice if they clapped their hands; it would make the atmosphere less strange. Judging by the situation, it was his turn to speak. He stepped forward and addressed the crowd:

"Thank you, my lord, for your kindness. This is the least I could do." He glanced at Dany before continuing. "When House Targaryen lost the Iron Throne in the War of the Usurper, Braavos took in my sister and me. Three songs are not enough to express my gratitude. Braavos will always be my second home!"

"Well said!" Roth was the first to applaud. The others whispered among themselves, their eyes on Viserys changing once again. He spoke eloquently, truly a worthy descendant of the Targaryens.

Ferrego smiled and clapped his hands. Two maids emerged, each carrying a tray covered with blue brocade. The raised shapes underneath revealed the hidden treasures—a dragon egg and a long sword!

'My dragon egg, my Valyrian steel sword!' Viserys couldn't help but feel excited after all his planning.

"Please, our champion, come and claim your prize!" Ferrego announced.

The maids knelt before Viserys, holding the trays above their heads. With everyone watching, Viserys lifted the blue brocade, revealing a green dragon egg. The crowd craned their necks to get a better look.

Dany had seen one before at House Zalyne, but this one was different. It was truly theirs.

Viserys carefully held the egg up, his excitement barely contained.

Assignable Points: 11.5

'Hmm? 11.5. It seems the quality of dragon eggs varies,' he thought to himself.

Chapter 81: Fire’s Joy

Feeling the delicate scales on the green dragon egg, Viserys noticed a swirling pattern at the bottom. 'What determines the quality of a dragon egg? Is it active?' he wondered.

He recalled the reign of Aegon III, when a "Dragon of No Name" had hatched. According to records, this "dragon" was as pale as a maggot, blind, and wingless. It was possible that a dragon egg could hatch a monster instead of a dragon.

After a moment of contemplation, Viserys set the dragon egg back on the tray and lifted the brocade from the second tray. A long sword with a wave pattern on the blade appeared before him. The Valyrian steel sword's blade featured five evenly distributed ripple patterns. The handle, made of wear-resistant maple wood, was inlaid with a red gem.

Viserys gently touched the blade with his fingertips, puzzled when his panel did not respond. The Valyrian steel sword should have had magical properties, so why wasn't it working on the panel? 'Does it need to be touched with blood?' he thought. He tried channeling his magic into the sword and was surprised to feel a slight but rapid vibration from the blade. Shocked, he quickly stopped the transmission of magic to avoid being noticed and decided to experiment further in private.

Setting aside these thoughts, Viserys picked up the Valyrian steel sword and swung it lightly. It was perfectly balanced and had the right center of gravity, making it very handy. There was a saying that "a sharp weapon will awaken a killer instinct," and Viserys couldn't help but calculate the odds of killing Sealord Ferrego.

He concluded that, even disregarding Dany's safety, his chances of success were less than 30% due to the high platform. If the steps were lower, the success rate would increase to 50%.

He then glanced at Tormo. The chances of killing him were 90%! Viserys's murderous intent seemed to make Tormo feel a chill in his heart.

"Lord Viserys, give this sword a new name," Roth said beside him. It was said that there were fewer than 2,000 Valyrian steel swords in the world, with only about 200 in Westeros. Every Valyrian steel sword had its own name, but the previous owner of this sword had been dead for many years, and its original name had been forgotten.

Viserys glanced at the crowd and declared, "The most prevalent things I saw in Braavos were purple paint and thick fog. I will name it 'Purplemist!'"

"Good name!" Roth, as always, applauded.

Viserys smiled at the crowd. In truth, he would have preferred to call it "Fire's Joy," in keeping with the Targaryens' motto. Everyone congratulated Viserys, and Dany came over to stroke the dragon egg.

At that moment, Ferrego, seated at the head of the table, suddenly spoke:

"Lord Viserys." The unique voice of the Sealord's Palace came into play, drawing everyone's attention.

"Before the banquet began, Lord Tormo shared an excellent suggestion with me, and I think it's worth considering. Now, please allow him to present it to everyone."

As soon as Ferrego finished speaking, all eyes turned to Tormo. Viserys suppressed his joy from just receiving the prize, while the Roth stared at Tormo expressionlessly, thinking, 'What is this guy up to now?'

Tormo, flanked by his two sons, stepped into the center of the gathering and said:

"Everyone, the Lord Viserys before us is a rare 'double champion' in hundreds of years. He not only excels in competition but also in songwriting. I've heard that Lord Viserys can compose a song in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. While we've all heard his masterpieces, I wonder if it would be convenient for him to demonstrate his creative process for us now?"

Tormo had taken a roundabout way to ask Viserys to compose a song on the spot. Knowing that most musicians needed a quiet environment to create, Tormo hoped to pressure Viserys in front of the crowd. As Roth tried to defend Viserys, Tormo added:

"Lord Viserys, why not use the moon as your theme? After all, you are under the protection of Braavos, and it is thanks to the Moonsingers that you have thrived. What do you think, Your Holiness?" he said, turning to the priestess.

Roth frowned. This was clearly an attempt to put Viserys on the spot. The Moonsingers held a high status in Braavos, and even the Sealord often visited their temple. Roth was puzzled as to why the High Priestess Silicet, who had previously divined Viserys' fate, would support Tormo.

Falia, at the back of the hall, overheard the conversation and couldn't help but worry for Viserys. Seeing the expectant faces around him, Viserys knew he couldn't avoid this challenge. He took a few steps forward, bowed to the priestess, then addressed the crowd:

"A few months ago, I had nightmares and sought solace at the Temple of the Moonsingers with my sister. Their song brought me peace, and I've since wanted to express my gratitude. Lord Tormo's suggestion is actually very good. Even if not today, I will compose a song to thank the Moonsingers at another time."

Tormo's face fell. Had Viserys already planned this? Nonetheless, he was curious to see what kind of song Viserys could produce on such short notice.

A maid handed Viserys a harp, and he sat down in a chair, announcing:

"This song has no lyrics, only a melody."

"No lyrics?"

"What kind of song is that?"

"Can it still be a song?"

Roth was surprised by Viserys' approach but could do nothing to intervene. Tormo snorted in contempt, thinking Viserys was trying to muddle through. Dany, however, believed in her brother's abilities and backed away with her dragon egg and Valyrian steel sword.

The nobles gathered around, eager to hear the wordless melody Viserys was about to play.

'You country bumpkins, let me enlighten you,' Viserys thought to himself.

As he plucked the strings, a melodious sound slowly spread through the hall. The room fell silent, with some initially clearing their throats, but soon everyone felt as if they were enveloped in a soft light. As seasoned nobles who frequently attended musical and theatrical performances, they possessed a basic artistic literacy. Most were deeply affected by this "Moonlight Sonata," listening with their eyes half-closed.

Even Tormo, despite his discomfort, recognized the quality of the song. The better it was, the more uneasy he felt. The Roth' eyes filled with amazement once again.

"I feel so peaceful," Methys whispered to her husband.

"Listening to this before bed will give me a good dream," Roth agreed.

Dany, closest to Viserys, was even more excited. Her brother truly was capable of anything!

A few minutes later, Viserys finished playing. From the high platform, Ferrego looked at Viserys with a strange expression. Could it be that the Targaryens, descendants of the Dragonlord, truly possessed something special? He glanced at the High Priestess beside him and saw her nodding in approval.

The crowd gradually emerged from the gentle melody's spell, expressing their appreciation.

"What a beautiful song."

"I feel like I'm bathed in moonlight."

"Me too, I feel at peace."

Seeing their expressions, Viserys knew that, even in a different world, a master remained a master.

"I call this song 'Moonlight Song,' to express my gratitude to the Moonsingers."

Silicet, standing next to Ferrego, nodded approvingly. "The moonlight is with you."

Another priest approached Viserys, holding a box. "This is the 'Moon Prayer,' used by the original Moonsingers to lead the slaves of Valyria to Braavos. It has the power to guide people on their journey," Silicet said. Her willingness to entrust such an important artifact to Viserys showed her satisfaction with his song.

'A prayer song!' Viserys remembered that the "Moon Song" he received at the Moonsingers' Temple could help accelerate his magical recovery. This "Moon Prayer" was undoubtedly a high-end version, potentially offering additional benefits. He expressed his gratitude again and accepted the "Moon Prayer."

The nobles, whether they liked it or not, congratulated him. Seeing that Viserys had passed the test, Ferrego announced, "Well, it's time to bring out our winner courtesan."

Viserys turned to see Falia enter with a group of female musicians holding harps and other instruments. Once seated, they began to play Viserys' three songs for the audience. This was the role of a courtesan; even in victory, she remained a background figure to the powerful.

As the music played, the young nobles began to dance. The powerful nobles, however, would only join in when the atmosphere was sufficiently "hot." It seemed the art of the Moondancer had yet to be fully developed.

Viserys recalled the mural of the "Broken Moon" he had seen in the Temple of the Moonsingers and decided to take this opportunity to ask the temple priestess about it.

Chapter 82: To Hatch it, Of Course

Silicet is a priestess in her forties. She has fair skin, gray and yellow eyes, and crescent-shaped earrings. Her speech always carries a hazy quality.

"High Holiness Silicet, may I ask you a question about the frescoes in the temple?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice quick and responsive. Silicet seemed to have a good impression of Viserys.

"I saw a fresco in the temple depicting the 'broken moon' (chapter 26). I've heard that the dragons came to earth because the moon broke, but why isn't there any follow-up in the fresco? Could it mean something else?" Viserys asked.

"I'm not sure about this either," Silicet said, pausing to think for a moment.

Viserys nodded, having asked out of curiosity rather than expecting a straightforward answer. "But I did hear the priests say that the broken moon was supposed to be a sign of some kind, a sign of disaster."

"A sign of disaster?" Viserys's interest piqued as he listened intently.

"About a hundred years ago, when dragons were still around, Braavosi merchants would come to the temple for predictions before setting sail. The priests used the moon to determine whether their voyage would be smooth or not. Most of the time, they were accurate, but after the dragons went extinct, the temple's predictions became increasingly vague. This allowed other beliefs to spread in Braavos."

'The Temple of the Moonsingers couldn't have survived for so long without business,' Viserys thought, listening to her continue.

"So I was thinking, maybe the broken moon is not literally 'broken,' but a sign of disaster."

"I see. Thank you for clearing that up," Viserys said.

Silicet had given the "Moon Prayer" to Viserys largely because of a divination Roth had asked her to perform. She had made the divination using the skull of the previous High Priest of the Moonsingers. The Moon Prayer was the most precious artifact of the Moonsingers, but it had been unable to play a significant role for many years. Silicet thought that perhaps Viserys could change that.

The event allowed Viserys to acquire 50,000 gold dragons for free. He also obtained the dragon egg and the Valyrian steel sword he had always desired. As a bonus, he received the "Moon Prayer." He was elated, but Tormo was naturally very displeased. He had tried to embarrass Viserys but didn't expect him to "get lucky." Now, Tormo's goal was unachieved, and he had wasted 50,000 gold dragons. Publicly, he couldn't deny his debt. To ease his frustration, he drank the Sealord's wine. His three sons stood by, too afraid to speak, even Vitus had lost his initial determination. He had spent no less than 30,000 gold dragons trying to stop Viserys, but still failed.

But Vitus glanced at his father. Compared to his father, who casually gave away 50,000 gold dragons, his own situation wasn't so bad.

Tarth, the youngest son of Tormo, was mainly responsible for maintaining order at the celebration with the Sealord. He didn't receive any credit, but he also escaped any blame. As for Andersen, he was the happiest person there. At least now his older brother couldn't look down on him. Everyone had been defeated by Viserys, so there was no point in hurting each other.

Tormo also had to contend with his father's sons. He didn't need to guess what his three sons were thinking, but he still decided he would somehow recover some of his losses. Seeing that the priestess Silicet had left, and with Viserys alone except for Dany, he said to Andersen, "Andersen, go ask him for how much he is willing to sell the dragon egg."

Tormo watched Viserys chatting with Dany while holding the dragon egg. "Yes, father," Andersen replied. Given their repeated defeats against Viserys, Tormo thought maybe it wasn't entirely his son's fault. Since all the plans had failed, it was inappropriate to treat Andersen harshly again. After all, everyone in the family looked down on each other. Recently, he had begun to show concern for Andersen again, primarily to use him as a means to keep his other two sons in check.

However, he had no idea what consequences sending Andersen to negotiate with Viserys would have. Roth, who had planned to approach Viserys, saw Andersen had already arrived and decided to wait.

"Buy my dragon egg? It's not for sale! Not for any price." Viserys refused without hesitation. He was even considering whether he could get another dragon egg from House Fregar. Dany held the dragon egg protectively, eyeing him warily.

"Lord Viserys, if you carry a dragon egg around, many will covet it. If you are willing to sell, House Fregar will definitely give you a satisfactory price," Andersen offered.

Viserys sneered, dismissing the offer. Instead, he asked, "What did you think of my last offer?"

Andersen was stunned and instinctively wanted to look towards Tormo but resisted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't pretend. Did that old man in your family make you feel secure again?"

"You!" Andersen's expression twisted with anger.

"Lord Andersen, listen to me. What others promise means nothing. Only what you can control yourself matters," Viserys continued, his words full of temptation.

"Hmph, so what can you do?" Andersen asked.

"It's simple. You find a way to make a hole in the net of the bird garden, and I'll handle the rest."

"Make a hole?" Andersen didn't understand. 'In the bird garden's net? Could he fly in?'

"Okay, you can go now." Viserys pushed him away with a flourish, deliberately making a big gesture to attract the attention of Tormo and his son.

'A hole?' Andersen still didn't understand what Viserys was trying to do, but the words echoed in his mind like a magical incantation. If anyone else had said it, he would have dismissed it as nonsense. But coming from Viserys, he had to consider the possibility that he could actually pull it off.

After adjusting his expression, Andersen returned to Tormo's side. Tormo saw his expression and knew the result without asking.

Once Andersen had left, Roth approached Viserys.

"That guy wanted to buy my dragon egg," Viserys said before Roth could speak.

"Can I see it?" Roth asked.

Dany glanced at Viserys and handed the dragon egg to Roth. The dragon egg shone like a large jewel, its luster three times more brilliant than the purple one owned by House Zalyne.

"Lord Roth, how did your family acquire the dragon egg?" Viserys inquired.

"My ancestor was 'The pirate Raymun.' He was a sailor who stole a ship from a Dragonlord. It is said there were five dragon eggs on the ship at the time. He sold four of them as capital, which laid the foundation for House Zalyne," Roth explained.

Viserys nodded. It seemed that many fortunes were not earned honestly. This was true in any world. "I heard that the Sealord has three dragon eggs. Is that true?"

Roth returned the dragon egg to Dany and looked at Viserys seriously. "Can you tell me why you are so interested in the dragon eggs?"

Viserys realized his attitude had been too obvious. 'I need to be more careful in the future.' he thought. However, instead of dodging the question, he looked Roth in the eye and said in a low voice, "Of course it's to hatch a dragon. What else would I want it for?"

After a moment, both of them burst into laughter, filling the air with a happy atmosphere.

...

As the banquet progressed, maids and servants brought refreshments and drinks to the nobles in a steady stream. Everyone donned the masks they had prepared long ago. Music, martial arts, and acrobatics entertained the guests. As midnight approached, a familiar roar echoed through the air—the Titan of Braavos. This was answered by the throwing of masks high into the air, not only in the Sealord's Palace but also in the ports and theaters of Braavos. Countless candles flickered like stars on the ground. Occasionally, a fire flared up too brightly and was quickly extinguished.

Despite everything that happened, the ten-day celebration, held every three years, finally came to an end. The siblings would soon leave Braavos for the Disputed Lands.

Chapter 83: Harder Than Aegon’s Campaign

After the banquet ended, Viserys began studying the "Moon Prayer Song." From the "prayer" alone, he could tell the item in his hand was of high quality. With the panel's blessing, he repeated the chant over ten times, causing the panel to change once again:

——

Moon's Revelation: -Beginner (1/100) +

——

'Moon's Revelation? It seems to be a divination-type skill,' Viserys mused, recalling Silicet's speculation that the Moonsingers were once fortune-tellers. Unlike Daoists who use a compass, the Moonsingers relied on the moon above them. He now felt a unique 'connection' with the moon.

Viserys gazed at the moon, still high in the sky, and continued enhancing his new skill:

——

Moon's Revelation: -Proficient (566/1000) +

——

For a moment, he felt his connection with the moon strengthen significantly. 'Maybe I can use the moon to predict things more often...' he thought, looking up and reciting a prayer, focusing on what he wanted to predict. Closing his eyes, a round moon appeared in his mind.

'Can I defeat the Night King?'

Boom! As soon as the thought formed, the moon in his mind quickly vanished, and Viserys exhaled sharply. He opened his panel to see his magic completely drained.

"It seems I can't predict such a significant event with my current magic capacity," he sighed. After chanting the Moon Prayer again, his magic slowly recovered. After about two hours, it had returned to around 80. This was much faster than the Moonsingers' Song.

With the moon gradually disappearing in the distance, Viserys decided to attempt divining a smaller matter. "Can I successfully take revenge on Tormo?" This time, the moon in his mind did not collapse but became bright and clear.

"Looks like this will work," Viserys nodded in satisfaction. 'This is different from Dragon Dreams. Dragon Dreams provide accurate information but have limited uses. Moon's Revelation offers less precise information but can be used more frequently. In future wars, I can consult the moon before battles. If the outcome looks unfavorable, I can prepare in advance.'

Given Viserys' current strength, there weren't many who could kill him. He might not die on the battlefield, but if his army were completely wiped out, Dragon Dreams would be powerless.

Viserys thought again of the relief on the wall. What kind of disaster were the Moonsingers' priests warning future generations about? Could it be the White Walkers and the Night King? Braavos was separated from the White Walkers by both the Narrow Sea and The Wall. Did this mean that even without sending dragons to the Night King, as depicted in the show, he could still break through The Wall with the White Walkers? The thought left Viserys feeling overwhelmed. He had believed The Wall would give him the upper hand. If those creatures broke through, it would spell trouble.

Although the celebration was over, the Braavos visitors still appeared to be enjoying themselves. Many were planning to leave, but the festive atmosphere persisted. The next day at noon, the brother and sister returned to the house in Bitterwell. Dany accompanied Viserys for a walk in the afternoon sun. The two sat on the steps, looking at the plants in the yard. The target and dummy on the lawn, the weapons rack—all brought back memories. Dany felt a wave of nostalgia.

Before Viserys' transmigration, Dany's happiest time had been at the House with the red door. After his transmigration, this small house became her fondest memory.

"Dany, do you have any dreams?"

"Dreams?" she echoed.

"Things you want to do in the future," he clarified.

"Well... I want to take the Iron Throne back with my brother!" Dany replied seriously.

In truth, she had no real attachment to the Iron Throne or Westeros. She had come to Braavos as a newborn and was influenced more by her 'predecessors' than by any personal desire.

Viserys smiled and put his arm around Dany's shoulders. The maiden's scent of flowers and grass was comforting.

In fact, Viserys had always known that Robert wasn't his true enemy. 'That fool will die on his own,' he thought. 'There's no need to worry about him.' Most of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms—Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, Renly Baratheon, Tywin Lannister—would also perish in the game of thrones.

The real enemy was the impending Night and the Night King beyond the Wall. Viserys' plan was to collect dragon eggs and work as a mercenary. Once the dragons hatched and grew strong, he would return to Westeros to take charge. His first priority would be to kill the Night King.

Since arriving in Westeros, the Night King had loomed as the ultimate threat. But now, it seemed his plan was too simplistic. Aegon the Conqueror brought Balerion the Black Dread to Westeros, but even then, he didn't completely conquer it. Dorne and its guerrilla warfare remained a thorn in his side. Aegon had loyal houses and thousands of soldiers at his disposal, yet it took nearly a century of preparation before the Targaryens made their move.

Viserys didn't have a hundred years to raise his dragons. Even if he returned to Westeros with a few, could he rely on them as advisors? And what about the alliance of the "stag, eagle, wolf, and fish"?

'If I were a Stark or a Baratheon, after overthrowing the Targaryens, would I accept their descendants' plea for loyalty and forgiveness?' he pondered. 'The chances are slim. This is a hatred that destroys nations and families. Especially the Lannisters—they would stop at nothing to kill me. They'd rather face me while my dragons are young than wait until they are fully grown.'

Dorne alone had vexed Aegon, and now it seemed all of Westeros, except for Dorne and The Reach, would be engulfed in flames. If he went too early, he'd be targeted by many. If he went too late, Westeros might be destroyed by infighting, leaving nothing to stand against the Night King. It was a difficult decision.

Viserys sighed lightly, looking down at Dany, who lay on his lap, eyes closed, playing with her hair. Through her slightly reddened eyelids, he could see her eyeballs moving comfortably.

Feeling playful, Viserys took Dany's braids from her hands and gently tickled her ears with the tips of her hair. Dany immediately felt a tickling sensation spreading from her ear to her heart and giggled.

After a few giggles, Dany couldn't help but look up.

"Dany, if one day I were to be killed, would you avenge me?"

Dany was stunned. For the past six months, Viserys had seemed invincible to her. In her heart, her Viserys stood taller than the Titan of Braavos. It seemed impossible that he would ever fall. But the seriousness in Viserys' eyes showed he wasn't joking.

Her heart trembled as she responded earnestly, "I swear by the Seven Gods, I will do whatever it takes!"

Their purple eyes locked, a silent agreement passing between them. Viserys smiled happily and hugged Dany's head to his chest. In this moment, he felt reassured. Dany was far better off than the original Viserys. She just needed to be stronger than the Mother of Dragons in the original story.

Forget conspiracies and intrigue, with a stable territory, a stronger army, and more dragons, even gods would kneel before her.

Just then, Viserys heard Kyla's voice in his ear. "Lord Viserys, Morel and the others are here."

The siblings got up and walked to the door. Morel and his son had arrived with a delivery carriage loaded with several boxes and a long-handled weapon wrapped in red silk. At Morel's command, several young men unloaded the armor and placed it on the prepared armor rack, then carried the heavy long-handled weapon. As they unwrapped the red silk, the halberd's spearhead appeared, glinting coldly in the sunlight. It was adorned with a relief dragon head, looking mighty and domineering.

"Lord Viserys, here are the weapons and armor we made for you," Morel announced.

Viserys inspected the black armor, noting the three-headed dragon pattern on the chest and the relief dragon heads on the shoulders. The joints were flexible, and the material was the finest steel. He took the halberd and swung it a few times, the weapon slicing through the air with a chilling sound.

The young men who had been eyeing Dany were immediately terrified. The weapon, weighing 50 to 60 pounds, seemed light in Viserys' hands. He struck the target dummy they had been using, nearly destroying it with a single blow.

This scene took Helbo, who had come to deliver horses to Viserys, by surprise. Regis, standing nearby, breathed a little faster.

'Strong! So strong!'

Viserys thrust the halberd's hilt into the ground, drawing applause from the crowd.

"Lord Viserys, I have selected two horses for you and Lady Dany," Helbo announced.

He and Regis led two large horses up to Viserys. One was white with a reddish mark the size of a coin between its eyebrows. The other was pure black, with a shiny, flowing coat and a muscular build.

"Good horses!" Viserys expressed his approval and affection.

Afterward, everyone gathered for a final farewell dinner together.

Chapter 84: This Old Man Is Blocking My Attack

Under Andersen's management, Tormo's Bird Garden had nearly returned to its former glory. Viserys and House Zalyne had emerged as the biggest winners, a reality Tormo was forced to accept. Whenever he was uncertain about his next move, he retreated to the bird garden.

Tormo lay comfortably in a rocking chair, with two maids standing three steps behind him and guards positioned less than ten meters away. Despite the fortress's heavy security, both Tormo and his guards were relatively relaxed. Only the maid by his side maintained a vigilant watch over Tormo's every move.

The previous bird's feathers and blood still stained the cage, but a new bird had been placed inside. Tormo closed his eyes, listening to the birds' chirping, but he felt a strange restlessness in what was usually his most relaxing place. Was it because of Gortave's escape? He had already sent someone to kill her, and the results would be known within a month.

The biggest mystery was why House Zalyne had suddenly chosen to cooperate with Viserys. What conditions had Viserys offered to make the Roth turn against him? Tormo couldn't figure it out.

In the bird garden, a white seagull perched in a tree less than ten meters away from Tormo. This seagull was Viserys in disguise, positioned there before his transformation. The day before, Andersen had sent a signal by cutting a handkerchief in front of Viserys, indicating that a hole had been made in Tormo's security net.

Andersen had also suggested through another gesture that Viserys should eliminate his older brother. However, Viserys believed that removing Tormo was the best course of action, as it would trigger infighting within House Fregar, allowing Roth to support whichever brother he chose.

Viserys watched Tormo, so close that he could strike in an instant. He adjusted his position and pointed at Tormo with his beak. Just as he was about to act, Tormo suddenly coughed twice.

"Ahem, ahem."

The maid standing next to Tormo immediately stepped forward and poured a cup of tea into his mouth. With the maid obstructing his view, Viserys had to wait for another opportunity. 'Huh! This old man really knows how to enjoy himself!' he thought. The maid anticipated Tormo's needs with precision. When Tormo raised his leg, the maid squatted at his feet to massage him. When he twisted his neck, another maid came forward to massage his scalp.

'Damn! This old bastard is blocking my attack!' Viserys fumed silently. He had finally found a suitable position, but now Tormo was getting his feet and head massaged, obstructing any chance for a clear strike. Attacking rashly would leave him unable to escape, let alone strike again.

Just then, Tormo's eldest son, Vitus, entered the garden. He stood by Tormo's side, providing even more protection.

"Father, our men have discovered Gortave's trail in Pentos. She is with her swordsman, Kethmo."

"Kill the swordsman and bring Gortave back to be dealt with."

The so-called "dealt with" naturally meant that Gortave would be reduced to a plaything, used for pleasure or abuse, doomed to a life of darkness. Even Viserys, accustomed to death, felt a chill as he watched them decide her fate so callously.

"Father, we've also learned that Viserys has joined the Windblown and will leave Braavos in ten days at the most," Vitus reported.

Hearing his own name, Viserys stood motionless on a branch, afraid to miss a word.

"Send Baland's men. Give them two hundred sets of armor. Make sure to bring Viserys' head back to me!" Tormo commanded.

"Understood," Vitus replied.

'Baland? I don't recognize that name. I'll ask Roth later,' Viserys thought. The fact that Tormo was going all out with 'two hundred sets' of armor showed his determination to kill him.

Tormo stood up to leave, his guards moving in closer. 'No, he has to stay,' Viserys thought anxiously. If Tormo and his guards left together, there'd be no chance to kill him.

As they all exited the pavilion, Viserys quickly went to a large birdcage and released a blue bird the size of a pheasant.

Chirp, chirp, chirp—

As soon as the bird was free, it soared into the sky.

However, there was a large net overhead. The bird kept bumping into it, the vast sky tantalizingly close yet unreachable. Hearing the commotion, Tormo stopped and turned around, frowning.

"Andersen is useless. He can't even fix a garden!" he muttered.

Just as he was about to continue walking, a few more birds flew out, further souring his already bad mood.

"Catch these feathered brutes for me!" Tormo commanded.

Several guards rushed into the courtyard, armed with bamboo poles, trying to knock the birds down.

"You two, don't just stand there!" he snapped at the maids behind him. But what could they do? The wild flailing was just Tormo venting his frustration. Watching the group's clumsy efforts only made him more irritated.

"You go too!" he ordered the guard next to him.

The guard, more adept than the others, picked up a few stones, aimed, and threw them hard. A yellow bird cried out in agony as feathers scattered, and it fell heavily to the ground.

"Haha!" Tormo laughed proudly, feeling as if he had regained control of the situation. As the guards continued their assault, more birds fell to the ground, struggling in pain.

Amid the chaos, Tormo suddenly saw a white shadow before his eyes. Before he could react, he felt a sharp pain in his left eye.

"Ahh!" he screamed, reaching up to push the white shadow away, only to feel another sharp pain in his right eye. The intense pain forced him to the ground, blood oozing from between his fingers as he covered his eyes.

The white shadow vanished. Viserys had attached a rusty iron nail to the seagull, soaking it in sewage for two days. He couldn't imagine how many viruses it carried, not to mention the deadly tetanus.

Tormo would be lucky to survive a month. Regardless of the chaos that would ensue within House Fregar, it no longer concerned Viserys. He was off to Roth's house to celebrate.

Chapter 85: Little Viserys

"Falia, look, it seems to be Lord Viserys' carriage!" Asha exclaimed happily.

Falia recognized it immediately. "It is indeed Viserys' carriage," she confirmed.

"He seems to be leaving in a few days," Asha said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Falia also felt a pang of reluctance, a feeling that surprised her. She remembered her tutor's words: "Reluctance is just a temporary inability to find a better replacement. People are like that." She tried to use this wisdom to dispel her emotions, but could she really find someone better than him?

Falia reflected on the moments she had spent with Viserys. Despite her initial control over the situation, he had always shown genuine skill and charm. His impressive performance in the Swordsmanship competition and his quick thinking in various situations stood out. No one else could compose a classic in less than an hour, and his time with Andersen had also left a mark.

She glanced at Asha, who was wearing a bracelet made of iron coins—the temporary splint Viserys had fashioned for her. Asha had turned it into a bracelet, using string made from pieces of Viserys' clothes. Falia suddenly felt a twinge of envy. Asha had something to remember him by, but she herself had nothing.

It didn't take long for Viserys to reach the fortress of House Zalyne. This time, it was more grandly decorated than his previous visit. The gates were wide open, and carpets adorned the ground. The dwarf who greeted him was dressed even more brightly, with a vibrant red collar and cheeks, and a wide, welcoming smile.

"Lord Viserys, Lord Roth and Lady Methys are waiting for you," the dwarf announced.

"Good, then let's not delay," Viserys replied.

The carriage drove straight into the fortress, and as soon as it stopped, someone brought a wooden ladder. As he stepped out, Viserys saw Falia's carriage. Asha was the first to emerge, her smile revealing her white teeth. She was so focused on Viserys that she forgot to warn Falia to watch her step.

"Lady Moonshadow," Viserys greeted.

"Lord Viserys," Falia responded.

Since they had met by chance, they exchanged pleasantries. Falia maintained her composure, but Asha's eyes were glued to Viserys' face. This made Dany feel a bit uncomfortable, and she subconsciously leaned closer to Viserys. Comparing herself to Asha, she looked at Viserys with some uncertainty. His unwavering gaze reassured her.

The arrival of Pyrena soon put an end to their small talk.

"Lord Viserys, Lady Daenerys, Lady Moonshadow, please follow me," the guide requested.

Despite it being her second visit, Dany, still a bit of a lost soul, felt slightly dizzy at the familiar yet disorienting scenery. This time, however, the route was different. On their previous visit, Viserys and Dany had not entered the "main hall" of House Zalyne, but today they were led directly to it.

The hall was already bustling with people. While not as significant as those who had gathered in the "Sealord Hall" the previous day, everyone present belonged to House Zalyne. Their attire was more colorful, with dresses and gowns in a spectrum of colors.

The hall itself was vast, approximately 500 square meters. Three meters above the ground, candlesticks were installed every three feet along the walls. Combined with the chandelier above, it was estimated that five or six hundred candles could be lit at once! Below, a huge carpet dominated the floor, embroidered with a fleet of ships riding the waves, House Zalyne crest prominently displayed on the sails. Viserys noted that the most expensive carpets in the Free Cities came from Myr, and this custom-made piece must have cost a fortune.

As soon as the siblings entered, they were greeted warmly by the crowd. A group of noblewomen, along with children about Dany's age, surrounded her like stars around the moon. Some of the young boys immediately vied for her attention, eager to introduce themselves.

Many of the men in the hall were captains or chief sailors of House Zalyne. With years of battling the wind and waves on the high seas, they had a fierce air about them. Having seen Viserys in the arena and knowing he was a guest of Roth, they treated him with great respect.

"Ah, Lord Viserys, I didn't see you clearly in the theater the other day, but I didn't expect you to be so young." one exclaimed.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll soon be the strongest swordsman in Braavos." another added.

"That's already the case!" they chorused, showering him with praise.

It was clear that Roth's guests were no fools; they knew how to flatter someone effectively. Their words, while not elegant, were direct and heartfelt, making Viserys feel very comfortable.

Not wanting to simply bask in the praise, Viserys asked a maid for a glass of wine, then raised it high and shouted, "To Zalyne!"

"To Zalyne..." the crowd echoed, their voices blending with the clinking of glasses.

"To Lord Roth and Lady Methys!" a sharp-eyed captain shouted as the couple walked hand in hand into the hall. This captain, Jalifah, was in his forties, with slightly crossed yet very bright eyes. He was one of Roth's most capable captains and an excellent marksman.

Jalifah had a rich history, not only transporting goods but also having been to war. Seeing Roth's smiling face and the radiant Methys, who was pregnant, brought further cheer to the gathering. They had already seen Silicet, and it was likely a boy.

"Lady, you look so healthy. I'm sure you'll give birth to a strong heir!" one captain exclaimed.

"What a mouth on you! I bet Lady Methys could give birth to twins!" another chimed in, trying to outdo the first.

The captains vied for attention, creating a lively and enthusiastic atmosphere in the hall. Despite the joviality, the Roths did not share the secret of the 'lead' with their subordinates. Instead, they offered them plenty of sweet wine, hinting that they could drink it like water.

"By the way, have you decided on a name for the baby?" one of the captains asked.

Roth and Methys exchanged a glance and then looked at the siblings.

"If it's a boy, we'll call him Viserys," Roth announced.

Viserys raised an eyebrow, momentarily forgetting the local customs.

"If it's a girl, we'll call her Danys," Methys added.

"It's our honor, Lord Roth," Viserys responded, understanding the gesture. Roth' decision was like when Ned named his son Jon, hoping he would inherit the cunning of his foster father. Roth, both appearance-conscious and impressed by Viserys' talents, had made his choice.

"To little Viserys!" Jalifah raised his glass, tacitly acknowledging that Methys was carrying a boy. Although the banquet had not yet started, he had already encouraged everyone to drink two glasses of wine. However, Methys, having been warned by Viserys that pregnant women should not drink, followed the rule strictly, ensuring a healthy heir.

"I have another piece of good news to share with you all," Roth announced. "According to reliable sources, Tormo's eye was pecked out by his own bird!"

The hall fell silent for a moment before erupting into loud cheers, the crowd nearly tearing the roof off with their excitement.

"This guy deserves it!" one captain shouted.

"Yes! I say he's better off blind! If we could find that bird, I'd honor it as my own father!" another added, the captains' shouts reflecting their sense of vengeance.

Viserys chose to ignore the outlandish comment about honoring the bird as a father. Just as he was about to discuss the dangers ahead, Roth spoke again.

"As you all know, Lord Viserys is leaving Braavos for the Disputed Lands, carrying a dragon egg with him. I expect many will covet it. Who would like to escort him?"

"Lord, let me go!" Jalifah volunteered immediately.

"Okay, that's fine," Roth agreed, looking at Viserys.

"Thank you, Lord Roth, but I have received news that Tormo has hired over 200 men to kill me at sea, and they are equipped with armor..."

"Armor!?" Roth's eyes widened, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Jalifah, take more men with you," Roth ordered.

"Yes, my lord."

"Wait, Lord Roth, Lord Jalifah, I have an idea..." Viserys interjected.

After hearing Viserys' plan, Jalifah exclaimed, "Isn't this too dangerous?!"

"I don't know if you've heard of a snake that uses its tail, which looks like a worm, to trap birds. The tail often gets bitten, but the snake usually ends up with a good meal. I will be the tail of this snake, luring Tormo's men. In gratitude, I will strip them of their armor for House Zalyne."

"Crazy, too crazy. A man like that can't live long," Roth muttered. But considering Viserys' capabilities, it seemed possible. Two hundred pieces of armor were a significant asset, likely hoarded by House Fregar as a trump card. Viserys' willingness to use himself as bait to repay House Zalyne for their escort was a sincere and strategic move.

Chapter 86: Crown

Viserys wouldn't take such a risk without assurance. He had already used the "Moon's Revelation" to divine the future. The moon in his mind was a bit cloudy, but the overall picture was still clear. In other words, the operation might be a little dangerous, but it was manageable. When the risk is estimated, the unknown becomes less frightening.

His plan far exceeded Roth's imagination. Reflecting on the priest's prophecy, Roth agreed with Viserys' approach. Methys wanted to object, but given the setting and her role, she remained silent.

Roth would not let Viserys take such a risk without proper compensation. The gifts initially prepared to "bestow favors" and "win over" Viserys now had to take on a new significance.

"Lord Viserys, we actually have two more gifts for you," Roth announced.

Two maidservants approached with trays in their hands. One tray was covered with a red cloth, and the other contained a small box. A faint salty smell emanated from under the red cloth.

Jalifah lifted the red cloth to reveal the severed head of Danglar. While they couldn't kill Andersen, they managed to eliminate one of his henchmen. With Tormo now an old blind man and House Fregar struggling to survive, Roth was poised to become the next Sealord.

"The House Zalyne is truly remarkable, knowing so much about their own affairs," Viserys remarked, his estimation of Roth's strength increasing. He had never forgotten Roth, but he hadn't expected him to act first.

The sight of a severed head didn't faze the crowd, who were used to such displays. Jalifah then opened the small box, revealing a crown—the crown of Queen Rhaella, which Viserys had once sold. The crown was shaped like a three-headed dragon, with the body made of gold and the wings and claws carved from silver and agate.

Dany looked toward Viserys, her face filled with nostalgia.

"Lord Roth, please allow me to thank you again for your kindness," Viserys said, bowing deeply to express his gratitude for the relic of his mother.

"I hope it can also be a testament to our friendship," Roth smiled.

"Put it on, Viserys, and let us see what the king looks like," Jalifah called from the crowd.

"Put it on!" the crowd chanted in unison, eager to see the spectacle.

Viserys wasn't there to entertain, but given the setting, it was inappropriate to show anger. He smiled and raised his hands to calm the crowd.

"Everyone, this is my mother's crown, Queen Rhaella's crown. She once taught me that the meaning of a crown is not to elevate oneself above others, but to vow to the ordinary people that in times of disaster, I should stand up and protect them from harm, so that they can see hope."

As Viserys finished speaking, a tingling sensation spread through the crowd, as if an electric current had shot up their spines. The hall fell into a deep silence, and they looked at Viserys with eager eyes, as if they were witnessing a true king.

Realizing he had become too emotional, Viserys continued, "If I wear this crown now, I dishonor it and forget my mother's teachings. So, I'm sorry, but I can't wear it."

'Did my mother say something like this to my brother?' Dany wondered, picturing Queen Rhaella for the first time with clarity—silver hair, fair skin, amethyst eyes, and a golden crown. 'Mother...' she muttered, feeling a lump in her throat. Methys, sensing her emotions, gently stroked her back.

Falia and Asha, standing with a group of noblewomen, also looked at Viserys in awe. To them, he seemed to glow with a golden light, shining like a god.

Under the gaze of everyone, Viserys placed the crown back into the box and bowed slightly in apology. Jalifa was tempted to persuade him further, but he realized he was fortunate just to witness Viserys' profound words.

Roth, moved by Viserys' sincerity, felt a spark of hope. Perhaps Viserys truly could reclaim the Iron Throne. Putting this thought aside for the moment, he addressed the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, the most precious part of this celebration is the three songs of Lord Viserys. Let's ask Lady Moonshadow to play them for us again!"

The crowd responded with enthusiasm:

"Moonshadow!"

"Wow! That's Moonshadow!"

"Hey, did you know her name is Falia?"

Falia stepped forward and began to play the harp. Her fair hands plucked the strings delicately, and her lips parted beneath her veil as she sang. She glanced at the crowd, noticing Jalifa and others toasting each other.

Inwardly, Falia sighed, wondering who Roth might send her to bed with as a reward. She suspected it would be Roth himself, given Methys' long pregnancy. But perhaps he might delegate the task to an old maid with some "little props." The more she thought about it, the more resentful she became, her gaze drifting towards Viserys. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind.

As the party wound down and guests dispersed, Methys suggested she and Dany chat, especially since they had an appointment to get their ears pierced. After asking Viserys for permission, they went to Methys' room together.

Viserys, meanwhile, requested a quiet study. There, he found a collection of information on the Disputed Lands from House Zalyne. The data was accurate and updated timely. With the celebration over and everyone else resting, Viserys focused on preparing as much as possible before officially becoming a mercenary.

Chapter 87: Storm

——

Warfare: - Expert (1233/3000) +

——

Viserys looked at the map of the Disputed Lands with a new understanding, his expertise growing. The Free Cities of Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys maintained a delicate balance, with significant conflict between Tyrosh and Lys, likely due to their demand for slaves.

As Viserys studied the terrain, a knock at the door interrupted him. "Who is it?" he called. There was no response. Normally, a visitor would be announced, and if not, they would at least respond. Could it be the Faceless Men? If so, why hadn't his Dragon Dreams warned him?

"Who is it?" he repeated, reaching for his dagger. Still no answer. 'I'll have to warg to more animals in the future,' he thought, cautiously approaching the door. He unlocked it and quickly stepped back. "The door is open. Come in yourself!"

The door slowly opened to reveal a familiar figure in a cloak and black hood. "Lady Moonshadow!" Viserys was surprised to see her at such a late hour.

Falia removed her hood, gathering her brown-blonde hair behind her head. Her eyes were slightly red, and her lips, moist and nervously bitten, exuded a seductive allure. With a trembling voice, she said, "Lord Viserys, I have come to thank you."

"Thank me? Why now?" Viserys asked, sensing something significant. He invited her inside.

"Lord Viserys, if it weren't for you, I might not have even passed the workshop..." Falia took out a small box and placed it on the table. "I have some savings in the Iron Bank. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation."

"No, you don't owe me anything. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have won the dragon egg," Viserys replied.

Falia insisted, "No, please accept it. Although it won't build an army, it's enough to buy some weapons. This is all the money I have. Please don't reject it."

Viserys was tempted. According to her, Falia must have saved at least a hundred thousand gold dragons over the years. But why give it all away? As a courtesan, she had many expenses. What would she do without the money?

"Is there something you need?" Viserys asked.

Falia paused, wringing her handkerchief. Finally, she gathered her courage. "Lord Viserys, do you remember when you asked me what I planned to do after becoming the winner courtesan?"

"Yes," Viserys nodded.

She explained the relationship between courtesans and the three houses. Viserys was not surprised. "So I thought..." Falia's usual act of shyness and innocence gave way to complete sincerity. "Oh, so you're paying me to have sex?" he asked bluntly.

Falia, believing she would give her body away anyway, preferred to choose someone she liked. Viserys felt conflicted. Was Falia beautiful? Absolutely. Her looks and figure were everything he desired. He liked her, but he couldn't afford an affair. He needed House Zalyne's support against Tormo's pursuit. Although Falia was very attractive, he had to prioritize his alliances.

But! One can only live once, and he was already living his second life! What was the point of being so indecisive? Not to mention that she was offering him hundreds of thousands of gold dragons for this. Still, he needed to confirm one more thing.

Taking a deep breath, Viserys said, "Lady Falia."

Falia's body trembled. It was the first time Viserys had called her by her name.

"Do you really like me, or are you just unwilling to give yourself to a stranger?" If it was the latter, he would discuss it with Roth and become her guarantor, as a favor to both her and himself for the time they had spent together.

"Like? That word is so blunt." Falia paused but then said firmly, "You are the light that pierces my dark life. I will never forget you!"

Her blue eyes sparkled, making Viserys' heart race. She had said it—what was there to hesitate about? If he hesitated now, he would be no different from a hypocrite. Viserys cupped Falia's face in his hands and kissed her deeply. She felt as if she had fallen into a cloud, floating away.

Her thoughts stopped, her legs went weak, and she almost clung to Viserys. He supported her with one hand around her waist, providing a great sense of security. One minute, two minutes, three minutes, five minutes passed. Falia felt like she was drowning in the passionate kiss. She could no longer stand, her body limp like a boneless snake, entirely supported by Viserys.

"You wait here. I have to tell Lord Roth about this," he said.

Falia didn't answer, too weak to make a sound. She merely let out a breath through her nose in response.

As Viserys left the room, he saw someone not far away holding a lantern, searching for something.

"Lord Viserys," the man said, bowing as soon as he saw him.

"Who are you looking for?" Viserys asked.

"No, no, just looking around."

"You're looking for Lady Moonshadow, aren't you?"

"Huh?" The man was taken aback. "You—you know where she is?"

"I need to see Lord Roth. Show me the way."

The servant seemed to have guessed something and agreed. Soon, the two of them arrived at Roth's study.

However, Roth seemed to know why Viserys had come and said, "Do you have Falia?"

"Yes," Viserys replied, initially surprised but quickly recovering. This was Roth's home, after all. How could a girl as delicate and weak as Falia escape unnoticed?

Roth smiled, a playful expression passing between them. "If that's the case, why not take advantage of the situation and enjoy the moment?"

"Because Falia came to see me in private, and I didn't want to hide it from you," Viserys explained.

Seeing his honesty, Roth's eyes flashed with admiration. He remembered his own youth, filled with indulgences that often earned his father's scorn. It was rare for someone to remain so clear-headed in the face of such beauty.

"It's true that House Zalyne and Falia have a special relationship. If she can be a witness to the friendship between us, it would be a beautiful thing," Roth said, staring into Viserys' eyes, expecting to see joy.

Instead, Viserys' eyes first turned cold before a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Then I thank Lord Roth for his kindness."

"Hahaha, then I won't keep you any longer," Roth said, patting Viserys on the shoulder.

Viserys was relieved. He had considered offering up his share of the soap trade if Roth hadn't agreed. According to their agreement, he stood to gain a few hundred thousand gold dragons over the next few years. Besides, he had won the dragon egg thanks to Falia.

Returning to his room, Viserys found Asha and Falia sitting together on the bed. He smiled as he walked toward them. That night was a whirlwind of passion and intimacy, a night to remember.

Asha was passionate and unrestrained, while Falia was shy and reserved. The contrast made the experience all the more unforgettable. The storm in the room did not cease until dawn, leaving Viserys with memories of a night filled with devotion, beauty, and desire.

Chapter 88: Fame from a Single Battle

"Sex is a steel blade that scrapes the bones," Viserys muttered to himself. Opening the panel, he noticed his Constitution had decreased by 0.03. Glancing at Falia and Asha, who lay peacefully on the bed, he couldn't help but reminisce about the beauty of the previous night. He gently covered them with a blanket and stepped out into the courtyard to get some fresh air.

Despite his reduced Constitution, Viserys could go without sleep for several days without any problem. He prepared to do some boxing to loosen his muscles, but before he could begin, Pyrena arrived unexpectedly. Seeing Viserys so lively, she thought she was imagining things. The servant had told her that the noise in the room had been constant from the end of the banquet until dawn. Seven or eight hours, one against two, and yet he seemed perfectly fine.

Sensing her confusion, Viserys coughed and asked, "Lady Pyrena, good morning. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Lord and Lady invited you to breakfast," Pyrena replied.

"Oh! That's a great honor. What time is it?"

"About two quarters."

"No problem."

Pyrena had expected Viserys to be too weak to walk, but soon after she left, she heard the sound of his powerful punches echoing through the courtyard, accompanied by the rush of wind. After finishing his set, Viserys felt invigorated. A maid brought him a basin of warm water and a clean towel. Although she kept her head down, she couldn't help but steal glances at him. Viserys thought proudly, 'Looks like I made a name for myself last night.'

He changed his clothes and headed to breakfast with the Roth. To his surprise, the dining room was small but cozy, reflecting the close-knit nature of the family. The couple sat side by side, with Dany across from them. Servants brought in refreshments and breakfast with the efficiency of a waterfall.

As if reading his mind, Dany turned to look at Viserys before the couple, who were facing the door, could see him. "Brother," she called.

Dany had her ears pierced the night before, and Lady Methys had gifted her two green stone earrings. The stones matched her violet eyes perfectly, impressing Viserys. He smiled at her first, then greeted the couple. "Lord Roth, Lady Methys, good morning."

"Lord Viserys, sit!" Roth invited.

The couple had heard about Viserys' exploits the previous night, and seeing him in such good spirits, they felt the same amazement as Pyrena. As Viserys sat down, he noticed the Roths were enjoying a small but varied meal, with four or five different colored soups and various delicate side dishes.

"Help yourself," Methys offered.

"Thank you," Viserys replied.

After a night of exertion, he was ravenous. As he enjoyed the rich dishes, Dany quietly sniffed her delicate little nose, sensing a familiar smell on Viserys.

Just as Dany was trying to recall where the familiar scent came from, Methys suddenly shifted the conversation to her.

"Since Lord Viserys is going to become a sellsword, what about Lady Dany? Will you bring her along?"

Although Dany knew that Viserys would take her with him, she couldn't help but look at him nervously.

"Yes, we are each other's only family. We should try not to be separated if we can."

"But sellsword camps aren't the safest places. I was thinking that if you would like, Lady Dany could stay with us for the time being," Methys suggested.

Dany slowed her chewing and pricked up her ears, eager to hear Viserys' response.

"Thank you for your kindness, but as you know, our identities are sensitive, and assassination is a common occurrence. Dany could bring trouble here," Viserys replied.

Although his words were blunt, Dany felt relieved. Viserys understood that the couple might see her as a "political chip." If their motives were divided into ten parts, two might be to use Dany as leverage, five were likely because they saw potential in him and wanted to help, and the remaining three were due to Methys' genuine affection for Dany. Having declined twice, they gave up on the idea.

"Haha, what a brother and sister you are," Roth said, breaking the ice, and clapped his hands.

A maid approached the table with a tray holding five large books. The text on the covers looked old, somewhat resembling Valyrian.

"I remember saying that my ancestor was 'Pirate Raymun,' a Valyrian slave who, unable to bear the cruelty of the Valyrians, stole a ship and came to Braavos. These books were brought back at that time."

Viserys glanced at the books and noticed that the paper was quite new, indicating they were likely hand-copied.

"The text is in High Valyrian, which not many people understand. I don't know their real value, but I'll give them to you as a gift."

"That's very kind of you," Viserys said, bowing slightly in gratitude.

High Valyrian was almost extinct but was the language of dragons and magic. The Unsullied even used High Valyrian to receive orders. While Viserys suspected that Missandei, the translator in the original story, had only an introductory level of real High Valyrian, he had the panel and could quickly become proficient.

Even if the books didn't contain secrets of magic, they were key to unlocking the door to magic. Their value was beyond ordinary imagination.

After a brief chat, Viserys left Zalyne's Keep with Dany. Meanwhile, Falia and Asha slept until the afternoon. Upon waking, they smiled at each other and blushed, remembering the previous night's craziness. Falia noticed the sky outside and became confused. Suddenly, she remembered something important and exclaimed, "Quick! Moon tea!"

Viserys was packing his things, organizing their belongings for the journey ahead. Most of their money was safely stored in the Iron Bank, so he was only taking 10,000 gold dragons and some valuable gems to Windblown. These gems, worth 40,000 to 50,000 gold dragons, were all gifts from Falia. Even with these riches, their combined luggage weighed nearly 10 kilograms.

Reflecting on his former life, Viserys felt a pang of nostalgia. The Dragonbone Bow, the Dragon Egg, the armor, the clothes—all of these items filled three large boxes. Additionally, there was a raven entrusted to him by Illyrio, which also required attention. To minimize their baggage, Dany had to leave behind some of her birthday gifts.

While the siblings were fretting over their luggage, an unexpected visitor arrived: Jorah Mormont.

Chapter 89: Jorah Arrives at the Door

Jorah was not penniless, but he was as poor as a church mouse. When he met the siblings Viserys and Daenerys, he directly revealed his identity. He hoped that Viserys would allow him to follow and help him restore his title when he "reconquered Westeros." However, after Jorah finished speaking, Viserys looked at him without saying a word, making Jorah feel as though he were naked in front of him. He replayed his words in his mind, convinced he had said nothing wrong.

Jorah knelt there for a long time, waiting for Viserys's response. Finally, Viserys spoke, but his first words were directed at Daenerys.

"Dany, do you think this person is a good person or a bad person?"

Seeing Viserys ask, Daenerys looked at the burly Jorah. His strong body and neck, thicker than the average person's, made him seem untrustworthy.

"He should be... a good person?"

"A good person? Hmph!"

Hearing Viserys's sneer, Jorah felt a chill down his spine, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt Viserys's hand clamp down on his shoulder, causing him to shudder involuntarily. As Viserys's grip tightened, Jorah was even more shocked. 'This guy's got a lot of strength!'

Realizing the danger, Jorah felt his hairline recede a few more inches and reflexively reached for the hilt of his sword. But Viserys's entire arm exerted force, making Jorah feel as if a carriage were pressing down on him, rendering him immobile.

'Is he going to... kill me?'

"Preparing to draw your sword in front of me?!" Viserys sneered, ripping the sword from Jorah's waist. The leather strap tore off with a loud thud.

Realizing that Viserys might kill him, Jorah struggled, but the boy's strength made him feel like prey being bitten by a wild animal.

"Don't move, or I'll really kill you!"

Hearing this, Jorah could only try to suppress his urge to resist. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, completely exposing him. He looked up at Viserys with his black eyes.

Viserys let go of his hand and walked around Jorah, talking.

"Jorah Mormont, banished by Robert the Usurper for human trafficking. Then his wife ran off with someone else, and he joined the sellswords in Essos and sold slaves. Am I right?"

Jorah had omitted the shameful part about his wife being given away as a concubine for the sake of his own reputation, but Viserys knew all about it.

"Dany, if you were this guy, would it be easier to work for the Usurper Robert and assassinate us, or help us take back the Iron Throne?"

"Of course, it would be easier to assassinate us."

At this point, Daenerys realized that this seemingly honest and simple-minded man was actually quite cunning. She responded coldly.

Seeing his intentions exposed, Jorah looked at Viserys in horror. Viserys placed one hand on Jorah's head, pressing his palm directly against his bald scalp.

Then, almost face to face, Viserys said, "You're a bold one, Mormont, to think of taking advantage of my sister and me." After saying this, he pushed Jorah's head hard, knocking him to the ground.

"No! It's not true! I really want to follow the Prince!" Jorah knew he was no match for Viserys and could only beg for mercy. The only thing he could rely on now was that Viserys had no concrete evidence. He didn't want anything now; he just wanted to live.

"Isn't that right, Kyla?"

Hearing this name, Jorah felt his heart contract violently, and his mind went blank. It wasn't until Kyla walked in and looked at him expressionlessly that he seemed to realize something, and his hope finally died.

"I don't need to introduce myself, do I?" she said.

"How? How could that be?" Jorah muttered, unable to accept it.

"But don't worry, I won't kill you for now." Viserys sat back down in his chair. "I gave Kyla two chances. Now she not only follows me, but she's also Dany's bodyguard. You have the same chance."

Jorah jumped to his feet, grabbing at the lifeline. "I'll follow you! I'll follow you! I swear it by the gods!"

Viserys looked at him impassively. Jorah's tone was much more sincere than when he first arrived. After a moment, Viserys told Jorah about Cersei's affair with Jaime, then took a handful of gold coins from his breast and threw them on the ground.

"Use your own methods to let as many people as possible know that the children of the usurper Robert are all bastards of Queen Cersei and Kingsguard Jaime. I'm leaving Braavos in two days. Meet me at the port of Old Clothes. Of course, you can always run away. Go ahead and try."

Looking at the gold coins on the ground, Jorah knew he had no choice but to go down this path. If he publicly slandered the royal family, he would be breaking with the Iron Throne. It would be like cutting off his own path. He already knew that Viserys was a guest of House Zalyne. He guessed that as soon as he left, someone would be watching him.

"Very well, Prince."

"Go, and I look forward to hearing good news from you."

For some reason, Jorah saw a smile on Viserys' face, but it made his heart tremble. As Jorah left, Dany asked with concern, "Brother, do you really want him to follow us?"

Viserys turned to look at Dany and said seriously, "Dany, remember, there is no such thing as eternal loyalty in this world, only eternal interests. Now we want to return to Westeros, and so does Jorah Mormont. Our interests are the same, so we can use him without any worries."

He stood up and continued, "On the contrary, when Tywin led his army to attack King's Landing, the interests of my father's Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, and the Targaryens clashed, and he became a Kingslayer. My father's Kingsguard, the Sealord's First Swords, and the Dothraki Khal's Bloodriders are all the same. They all use interests to exchange for loyalty."

Viserys lifted the veil of the world's artificial, warm, and affectionate appearance for Dany, directly exposing its most ruthless side, which greatly shocked Dany's immature heart. The most important reason why Viserys chose to keep Jorah was that he had been on the continent of Essos for so many years that he could be a guide for them. The second reason was that Viserys really didn't have many people he could use. This guy had a certain amount of martial arts and warfare talent, and it would be helpful to have him around. And because of his plan with Roth, it would be more appropriate to have a skilled hand around at that time.

Chapter 90: Braavos, See You Again

When Meris saw Viserys, she couldn't stop laughing, her blue eyes sparkling. "Hurry, get their luggage to the ship!" she called out.

Several servants with blue and white patterns sewn on their chests deftly carried the boxes belonging to Viserys and his sister. These servants didn't usually go to war and were basically the "porters" of the Sellswords. However, since they were close to the "front line," they were paid much more than ordinary porters. This time, the various mercenary groups came to Braavos not only to recruit or play, but also to buy supplies such as cloth and medicine.

"There are still some supplies left. We will set sail at noon. Do you want to go on board or wait a bit longer?" Meris asked.

"Wait a bit longer. There may be someone who wants to join the Windblown later, but if you don't like him, let him be my attendant."

"No problem!" Meris readily agreed, believing anyone who could serve as a follower for Viserys must be a capable fighter.

As the group chatted, Meris's eyes occasionally glanced at Dany's face, which aroused Viserys's vigilance. The scarred Meris looked like she had suffered misfortune. Viserys could sympathize with her, but if she were mentally disturbed and wanted to harm Dany, he would have to be cautious. Fortunately, after observing her for a long time, he saw no malice in Meris's eyes—only a look of affection, less maternal but more loving, like that of Lady Methys.

"Lord Viserys! Lord Viserys!" Viserys heard a few familiar shouts while the others were chatting. When he looked back, he saw Regis approaching, pulling his horse.

"Lord Viserys," Regis called out.

"Why are you here?" Viserys asked.

Regis, having come to Viserys, took a few deep breaths and swallowed a mouthful of saliva. "Lord, please let me be your squire!"

Meris looked at Regis, noting that while he was tall and appeared strong, she didn't know how skilled he was.

"Become my squire? I'm going to be a sellsword, not a noble lord. Go back," Viserys waved his hand dismissively, but Regis was determined.

Regis lifted his shirt to reveal his armor, showed his sword, and then patted his horse. "My Lord, I have exchanged all my money for weapons, armor, and a horse. I am willing to follow you."

Viserys remembered that Regis was almost obsessed with his fighting skills. Whenever he had a chance, Regis would ask him for advice. 'Is he reluctant to part with his coach?' Viserys wondered.

"Do you want to learn fighting skills from me? If that's all you want, there's no need to risk your life. Practicing on your own is better than anything else."

Although he was being criticized, Regis didn't blush and admitted directly, "Yes, my lord, but I think that only through blood and iron can true strength be forged. So please let me follow you!"

Viserys, too lazy to persuade him further, said directly, "I won't bother you, but since you're willing to follow me, I can give you some money to go back to Braavos when you're done."

Seeing that he had agreed, Regis happily said it was no problem.

"Lord, his horse..." Dick, who had not spoken much, pointed at Regis's horse. "There may not be much room on the ship."

Seeing that he had said this, Regis looked up at the crowd and shouted, "Who wants this war horse? It's free!"

"I want it! I want it!" several voices shouted.

Hearing that someone was giving away a horse for free, a group of people rushed over, eager to seize the opportunity. Perhaps sensing Viserys's cold gaze, the man who ended up taking Regis's horse removed all his rings as a gesture of respect.

Seeing that Viserys had accepted him, Regis stood behind him happily, appearing ready for his new role. Before long, it was noon, and the Windblown's cargo had been loaded. The ships at the docks were setting sail one after the other.

At first, Meris and Dick could still wait patiently, but as time went on, they grew impatient. The captain of the ship mentioned that the last few days were the best for sailing and that they were unlikely to encounter a storm. If they waited any longer, they might miss their chance to leave.

Viserys was puzzled, wondering where Jorah had gone. He had been spreading rumors about Robert for the past two days, so he should have been back by now. Just as everyone was growing restless, Jorah finally showed up with a noticeable bruise on his cheek.

"Prince Viserys, Daenerys."

"What happened to your face?" Viserys asked.

Jorah was about to explain, but Viserys interrupted him. "Let's get on the ship and talk as we walk."

Meris was relieved, and her opinion of Viserys improved a little. According to Jorah's description, he had run into some Stormlands nobility. The Stormlands were the base of Robert's power, and they were not happy to see someone slandering their king. Jorah was a good fighter, but he was no match for four men, so he suffered some minor injuries. However, this had achieved Viserys's goal.

Jorah knew that his chances of ever reaching the Iron Throne were over. As the group stood on the bow of the ship, they chatted while the ship slowly moved away from the harbor. Soon, a huge shadow fell over them as the ship passed under the "crotch" of the Titan of Braavos. Almost all travelers passing under the Titan's crotch would look up, even though there was nothing there.

The Long Canal that ran through the city, the blue Sealord's Palace, the white Temple of the Moonsingers, the red Temple of the Lord of Light, and the House of Black and White, hidden in the shadows, all came into view. As Braavos receded into the distance, Dany felt her nose tingle. She had lived in Braavos almost since she could remember. For Viserys, calling it his "second home" was just a polite phrase, but for Dany, Braavos was her real home. She had spent nearly ten years there.

However, Dany soon realized that the only place she could truly call home was with her brother. Sensing her emotions, Viserys placed his hand on her shoulder. As he watched the Titan of Braavos fade into the distance, he whispered to himself, "See you again, Braavos."

Chapter 91: Robert’s Troubles

King's Landing.

Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep.

Since the completion of the Red Keep by the "cruel Maegor," this castle within a castle has served as the royal family's sleeping quarters. After Robert succeeded to the throne, he naturally made it his residence. Although he preferred to sleep in brothels most of the time, this was still his home.

The walls were adorned with yellow tapestries depicting stags' heads, and the floor was covered with carpets. More than ten sconces on the walls could hold fifty candles at a time. The room was filled with incense, leaving no doubt that this was the king's room. The only thing that didn't fit with the surroundings was Robert's loud snoring. Since becoming king, his weight had increased significantly. The big bed looked undignified with his lumpy belly rising and falling.

Just as he was fast asleep, a blond boy ran in, carrying a silk parcel from which a slimy substance was oozing.

"Father! Father!" The boy was Joffrey, about eight or nine years old, and he had just done something 'brave' that he wanted to show off to his father. Joffrey called out, trying to push Robert's enormous body with his skinny arms.

Puff! The snoring stopped abruptly, and Robert woke up. He heard Joffrey's voice and turned to look at him.

"What... ahem, what is it?" Robert asked, clearing his throat.

"Father, look!" Joffrey said, placing the silk package on Robert's bedside table.

"What is it?" Robert, like a fat seal, struggled to prop up his round body against the headboard. He sat up under Joffrey's expectant gaze and then reached out his thick, fat fingers to uncover it. A wet, bloody mass appeared before his eyes.

"What is this?" Robert exclaimed in alarm.

"I caught a pregnant cat and wanted to see what color the kittens in its belly were, so I cut open the cat's belly. Father, aren't I brave?" Joffrey still looked at Robert with a smile, unaware that murderous intent had already appeared in his eyes.

Pop! A loud sound echoed throughout the entire bedchamber, and Joffrey was knocked to the ground by Robert's slap. Two milk teeth were knocked out, completing the process of tooth replacement early. Known for his strength, Robert didn't hold back too much when he slapped his eldest son. Even with an awkward technique, he still knocked Joffrey's eyes out.

That day, the entire Maegor's Holdfast could hear Robert's roar: "Lock up this bastard! No one is to give him any food!"

The servants quickly went to clean up Joffrey and the unborn kitten, leaving Robert, still breathing heavily, in bed.

'By the Gods, what have I done to deserve such a monster?' He rubbed his fat face, and a servant girl brought a basin of water and a piece of lavender soap. Robert skillfully wet his face and then applied the soap. Because of his poor diet, Robert found that his face was always greasy and could never be cleaned with just water. He had been using this stuff ever since.

When he felt his mind clearing a little, a guard announced, "Your Grace, Varys has news for you."

"Send him in."

Soon, a bald eunuch in purple silk robes, with a slightly plump figure, walked in. Although a bit fat, he was still a dwarf compared to Robert.

"Your Grace," Varys bowed respectfully and took out a note from his bosom.

"Tell me what you have to say," Robert said, leaning back on his bed with his fat hands raised.

"Your Grace, Viserys, who is in exile in Braavos, has won the championship in swordsmanship."

"Viserys! That dragon-spawned bastard!" Hearing news about the 'remnants of the former dynasty,' he immediately sat up, his eyes widening. Braavos may not be the most powerful of the Free Cities, but it is one of the best. Their Ten Day Festival attracts mercenaries and swordsmen from all over the Free Cities. Viserys won first place at such a festival. Either he is ridiculously strong, or someone is backing him up. Either possibility is not good news for him.

"Didn't Littlefinger send an assassin? No results?"

"Your Grace, the assassin's whereabouts are unknown. It seems he failed. But I have some news about Mormont."

"Tell me!" Robert's eyes lit up.

Varys reported Jorah's demands and the current situation, appeasing the fat stag's somewhat irritable mood.

"Very well. You will be in charge of this matter."

"Yes, Your Grace."

In Varys' opinion, the current situation was very good. The siblings had fully played their role as "targets." Together with the Jorah line, they could completely attract Robert's attention. However, there was a fly in the ointment: Viserys' unwillingness to join the Golden Company. This made it impossible for them to monitor Viserys properly.

In fact, Varys was also very curious. He had seen Viserys as a child. From his performance, his martial arts talent seemed relatively average. In theory, at the age of sixteen, he could never have reached such a level. This is unexpected.

Varys didn't care. No matter how strong Viserys was, he was just another "Bittersteel" in Varys' eyes.

The Golden Company had only a few thousand members after so many years of development. In his opinion, Viserys would be lucky to establish a second Golden Company in his lifetime. As for overthrowing the Iron Throne... hehe, he'd better be a good target.

Just as Varys was about to leave, a blonde woman in a red dress stormed in. Her hair was blown back by the wind, and she looked like a furious lioness. Her green eyes were filled with rage. This woman was none other than Robert's Queen, Cersei. When she saw her son's swollen cheek, she felt as if she were surrounded by flames.

Varys sensed Cersei's presence and quickly moved out of the way. Before Robert could react, he saw a golden shadow flying towards him.

Boom! A muffled sound, and juice splattered everywhere. Cersei had actually thrown a wine jug at Robert's face. Robert covered his mouth and felt something in his mouth. When he spat it out, it turned out to be half of his front tooth.

"Woman!"

His roar once again echoed through Maegor's Holdfast.

Chapter 92: This Seagull is Really Clever

The waves crashed under the dim moonlight as three longships rapidly advanced in a triangular formation. These longships, built specifically for plundering, were twice as fast as ordinary merchant ships. Their black sails flapped like the dorsal fins of sharks.

"Boss! Is that Beggar King really on the Windblown's ship?" asked a skinny pirate with a pointed chin.

"Yes, but we can't call him Beggar King anymore! He now has not only dragon eggs, but also a Valyrian steel sword and hundreds of thousands of gold dragons!" replied a pirate leader with a wide mouth, broad nose, and brown skin.

He turned and addressed the pirates behind him, "Listen up, everyone. That Viserys, also known as the Beggar King, has won two championships. He has over a hundred thousand gold dragons, plus dragon eggs and a Valyrian steel sword! If we deliver his head to Tormo, we'll get another sum of money! After this job, we'll be able to live it up for half a year!"

"Hoo-hoo!" "Oh-oh!" The pirates cheered, excited by their leader's encouragement.

"Boss, I heard Targaryens are all very beautiful. Can we..." A tall, thin pirate shrugged his shoulders and made a lewd gesture.

The pirate leader straightened up and said, "Pay attention. Even if we are attacking by surprise, the Beggar King is a tournament champion. If anyone dies, there will be no spoils for them." The pirates immediately sobered up. Though they knew there was a difference between swordsmanship and real combat, they understood that Viserys' strength could not be underestimated. However, with nearly 200 men on the three longships, plus the weapons and armor provided by House Fregar, they believed they wouldn't fail.

What none of them noticed was a seagull perched on the mast, listening to their conversation. This seagull was none other than Viserys. Judging the distance to be right, he flapped his wings and flew behind the three longships. After about an hour, he saw the fleet sent by House Zalyne. Viserys spotted Jalifah standing at the bow and lowered his altitude to the railing in front of him. Jalifah recognized the red string around the seagull's neck and realized it was Viserys' seagull. Seeing the seagull pecking at the railing, he knew it was time to speed up and prepare for battle.

"Tell everyone to check their weapons and armor and prepare for battle!" Jalifah said to his second in command. He wasn't nervous, having fought pirates many times before, but he was amazed at the seagull delivering the message. "This seagull is really smart. I wish I could have one."

Viserys didn't pay any attention to the captain's comment. Seeing that the crew on Jorah's ship was preparing and the ship was speeding up, he flew away. At that moment, on the Windblown, Viserys' eyes returned to normal. He saw Dany and Kyla looking at him seriously.

"Kyla, go tell Jorah that they're going to fight. Dany, you stay here and don't go anywhere," he instructed.

"Brother, I can go with you!" Dany said, holding up the crossbow in her hand. After Viserys taught her everything he knew, Dany's shooting skills had improved by leaps and bounds. During the celebration, she could hit her target with a crossbow from a distance of 20 paces. Additionally, the crossbow produced in Myr was very powerful, and Dany had become quite capable of fighting.

"Okay, but stay close to Kyla and don't let the enemy get close."

"Okay!" Dany agreed.

After leaving, Viserys went to the quarters of Meris and Dick. The two were indeed lovers, rarely seen apart during the day. When Viserys knocked on their door, it was Dick, with his hair slightly disheveled, who opened it.

"Lord Dick, tell everyone to prepare for battle!"

Since Viserys had warned them before boarding that they were being watched, they had maintained a certain level of vigilance. Meris, wrapped in a dressing gown, saw it was Viserys and didn't ask any questions. She simply instructed Dick to notify the sailors on board.

"How many are coming?" she asked.

"About two hundred. We just need to hold out for half an hour, and reinforcements from House Zalyne will arrive."

If they had known in advance that they were being pursued, the best option would have been to change course. Although Meris wasn't sure how Viserys had gathered his information, she chose to trust him. After all, they were all in the same boat now.

In less than a quarter of an hour, over eighty people on the ship had been urgently assembled on deck. Standing there in full armor, Meris, who stood over 1.8 meters tall with a strong physique, was as imposing as any man. Seeing that everyone was gathered, she spoke in a commanding voice:

"Everyone! Get ready to fight!"

"Yes, captain!"

Meris didn't bother with explanations; the sailors trusted her word. No captain would risk their reputation by joking about such matters. Although the dark sea revealed nothing to the eye, no one doubted her orders, and they took up their defensive positions.

However, Jorah, who had traveled the world, couldn't help but ponder the source of Viserys' information. Over time, he had noticed that Viserys' "support" seemed rather peculiar. Once mocked as the Beggar King, Viserys had suddenly carved out a bloody path to power. What puzzled Jorah most was the source of Viserys' martial prowess. Even though Ser Willem had taught him swordsmanship for a while, that alone shouldn't have made him so formidable. Willem himself was an average swordsman, good but far from the best.

Moreover, as a noble, Jorah knew that mastering martial arts required considerable resources. The saying, "the poor are good at literature, the rich are good at war," rang true.

'Viserys and his sister had been wandering for years, scraping by with little to no money. How could he have achieved such skill? Did the Targaryens have hidden funds stashed away in the Iron Bank? No, rumors had it that the siblings had been in dire straits for some time.'

As Jorah pondered these mysteries, several ships suddenly appeared in the darkness. He recognized them immediately as longships, renowned for their speed. Longships were the favored vessels of the pirates from the Iron Islands. As a native of Bear Island, he knew them all too well. Even though he was aware that reinforcements were on their way, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety as the dark sea concealed much of the approaching threat.

"Ouch! My helmet!"

Jorah turned around to see that Regis had accidentally dropped his helmet into the water. It was not a good omen.

Chapter 93: Just Out of the Novice Village

"Attention! Enemy ships approaching!"

"Attention! Enemy ships approaching!"

"Attention!..."

Some sailors with sharp eyes were the first to spot the approaching pirate longboats. They quickly lowered their voices to warn their companions. Soon, everyone could see the pirates through the gaps in the railings. As the sailors shifted positions, the sound of their armor quietly rustled.

"It's Iron Hook!" Meris muttered, recognizing the pirates.

"Iron Hook?" Viserys asked.

"These pirates don't just operate in the Narrow Sea; they also frequently plunder the lower Rhoyne," Meris explained.

The lower Rhoyne is under the control of Volantis, one of the nine Free Cities and among the most powerful. The fact that these pirates could operate so brazenly suggested they were no ordinary threat.

"I'll leave this to you. I'm heading to the port side," Meris said.

"Yes," Viserys replied, gripping his halberd. He had never imagined his first taste of battle would come at sea.

The approaching pirates were thrilled to find the ship eerily quiet, interpreting it as a sign of unpreparedness. As the distance closed, they hurled their grappling hooks over the railings.

Jorah glanced at Viserys and noted his steady breathing and calm demeanor. It was astonishing, especially for someone facing their first battle. Most men, even the bravest, often lost their nerve. Regis, standing nearby, was visibly trembling—an understandable reaction. But Viserys, seemingly unfazed, casually popped a piece of jerky into his mouth.

As the pirates prepared to board, the ship's archers silently drew their bows, ready to shoot at any moment. The ropes attached to the grappling hooks tightened as the pirates began to climb, clinging to the ship like cicadas on a tree. No one on board dared to move, waiting for Meris's command with bated breath.

Meris glanced at Dick, who was perched in a high position. When the time was right, Dick put his hand to his mouth and blew a loud whistle. The pirate leader sneered but soon realized it was too late to react. A hail of arrows rained down on them!

"Pull!" Meris commanded, and over 30 archers stood and fired.

The pirate leader, looking up from below, felt as if the ship's railing had suddenly grown taller. "Fire!" he ordered.

"We've been ambushed!" the pirate leader finally realized, but retreat wasn't an option. With nearly 200 men against fewer than 80 on the ship, he believed victory was within reach. Their armor would soon help them overrun the defenders.

"Keep boarding! Keep boarding!" the brown-skinned pirate leader shouted, determined to breach the ship's defenses.

The Windblown had fewer than 30 armored sailors, many only wearing leather armor. Though they initially held an advantage, the sheer number of pirates overwhelmed them.

"Armor is truly a treasure!" Baland exclaimed, his fists clenched in excitement. Vitus had told him he could keep 50 suits of armor, but Baland decided to keep them all.

He knew the difference a good suit of armor made. With these 200 suits, he would rise to be a first-class pirate, recruit more men, and take control of the Rhoyne. He couldn't wait.

However, he soon realized that there was one place where his men couldn't break through. In the moonlight, he spotted a man wielding a strange long-handled weapon, keeping everyone at bay. In just the brief time he had been watching, seven or eight of his men had already fallen. He even saw one of them get knocked into the air by the force of the weapon.

Baland had no idea that the man he was observing was the Beggar King, Viserys. In his mind, since Viserys had won a swordsmanship championship, he must have been using a sword. But at that moment, Viserys had no opponents near him. No one dared to come within five or six meters of him.

Jorah, with his sharp battlefield instincts, quickly positioned himself behind Viserys, using him as a shield while also fending off numerous enemies. Meanwhile, Dany, recalling Viserys's advice to "shoot and move," used her crossbow to take down at least three foes.

Viserys surveyed the scene and saw that the other directions were far more dangerous. They were at risk of being split up and surrounded by the pirates. If that happened, they wouldn't be able to hold out until Jalifah's reinforcements arrived. They couldn't possibly take on nearly 200 pirates alone. Though Viserys was strong, he was still far from being a true king.

'We need to find a way to relieve some of the pressure,' Viserys thought. He pulled back his mask, removed his helmet, and shouted to the surrounding pirates, "I am Viserys Targaryen! You sons of bitches! Come if you're not afraid to die!"

"Viserys!" Baland was shocked to see Viserys's silver hair fluttering in the wind. He had never expected Viserys to be so fierce. Despite Viserys winning the duel, as a battle-hardened pirate, Baland had always looked down on him, believing that duels were mere showmanship and that true combat was only found on the battlefield. Even his earlier warning to his men had been half-hearted.

But now, Viserys's martial prowess far exceeded his expectations. And his roar had its effect—many pirates turned their attention to him. However, they paid a steep price. None had ever encountered a weapon like his before. It could chop, slash, stab, and even crush! When swung, it produced a menacing "woo-woo" sound, indicating its immense weight and the extraordinary strength required to wield it.

"Regis!" Suddenly, Viserys heard Jorah's shout. He turned and saw a medium-sized pirate in a seal-skin cloak drive a dagger into Regis's neck.

In his past life as a mercenary, Viserys had lost many comrades. The sting of such losses had dulled over time, to the point where he could forget after a good night's sleep. But Regis was the first comrade he had lost since coming to this world, and the pain of losing a companion surged through him once more.

Dany, who had been lying in wait to take her next shot, also witnessed the scene. Although she had once been wary of Regis, she had grown to see him as a simple and straightforward man. Especially after being impressed by Viserys's combat skills, Regis had almost become a fanboy, and he had always treated her with kindness. The crossbow she held had even been a gift from Regis.

For a moment, both Viserys and Dany were consumed by grief, their swings and shots coming faster and with greater force. But the pirates kept coming.

Just as everyone was fighting desperately, a long horn sounded in the distance. Baland turned to see that six large longships had suddenly surrounded them!

Chapter 94: Naval Battle

'What's going on? When did a fleet of ships sneak up behind me?' Baland's thoughts raced with disbelief. 'Was I ambushed? But how did they coordinate this? And how did the ships of House Zalyne get here?'

A whirlwind of questions and shock left Baland feeling unsteady. But there was no one to answer him now. As commands were shouted across the ship, arrows flew like a swarm of locusts.

"Pull..."

"Release..."

The air was filled with the relentless whistling of arrows as they shot through the sky.

Viserys, unfazed, charged into the thick of the battle, his halberd slicing through the air. With each swing, three pirates fell, their bodies lifeless like mannequins under his brutal assault.

Baland scanned the chaos around him, sensing that his crew's morale was crumbling. The thought of retreat flickered in his mind, but before he could act, a dark figure plummeted from the sky, landing on his deck with a resounding thud. The impact sent a chill down his spine.

Standing before him was a warrior with silver hair, clad in black armor emblazoned with a red three-headed dragon.

"Viserys Targaryen!" Baland recoiled in fear, shouting, "Quick! Kill him!"

But no one dared to move. They had all witnessed Viserys' ferocity in battle. Blood still dripped from the halberd in his hand, a grim reminder of the carnage he had wrought. Those who were forced to face him met gruesome fates, their bodies crushed or spines snapped like twigs.

Jalifah, observing from a distance, couldn't help but marvel. 'I've only seen such power in one person—the Horselord Drogo!' he thought. 'Only under the Dothraki system, where strength is more important than anything, could such a warrior rise to power.'

Viserys' onslaught shattered the pirates' remaining morale. Seizing the moment, Jalifah led his men in a fierce charge. Within minutes, nearly all of the remaining pirates chose to surrender.

...

"You're not fucking dead!" Viserys exclaimed, rushing to Regis's side as soon as the battle ended. He had expected Regis to be cold by now, but instead, the man was chatting with Jorah! Although the machete had caused a deep wound, it had miraculously missed his windpipe and arteries. As long as there was no infection, Regis would survive.

Relieved that Regis's life was no longer in danger and that Dany was unharmed, Viserys joined Meris and Jalifah to interrogate the captured pirates. After some searching, only a few remained: Baland, the pirate leader, along with one captain and two second officers. The other captain and three first officers were either dead or missing, likely lost to the sea.

"Where did you get your armor?" Jalifah demanded.

Baland's response was predictable—it came from House Fregar.

"Were you involved in the attack on Webber at Shield Lake six months ago?" Dick asked, his bandaged arm a painful reminder of the encounter.

"No, my lord," Baland replied. "Six months ago, I was in the Axe."

Shield Lake was in the south of the continent of Essos, while Axe was in the north, a detail easy to verify.

"Give us one good reason not to kill you," Meris demanded, her eyes flashing with a mix of worry and anger as she glanced at Dick's wound.

"I have money in a bank in Tyrosh," Baland offered. "I can buy my life."

It was a typical pirate tactic, one that often worked with navies and pirates alike in the Free Cities. But this time, the offer clearly fell short. The scarred blonde woman before him didn't seem the type to be swayed by gold.

Realizing his initial offer wouldn't save him, and noting the hostile glares from the others—especially Meris—Baland quickly added, "I also have information about the pirates on the Rhoyne."

From Dick's earlier question, Baland surmised that perhaps his colleagues on the Rhoyne had wronged these mercenaries. He hoped to barter this information for his life. After all, among pirates, there was no loyalty—only survival. They barely knew each other, and betraying them was a small price to pay to save his own skin.

According to Baland, the pirates of the Rhoyne, the Narrow Sea, and even those from the Jade Sea and the Sea of the Setting Sun were planning a gathering at the end of the year, in four or five months. At this meeting, they would trade goods, and Baland claimed rare items like the Valyrian steel swords and dragon eggs might even make an appearance. While the existence of dragon eggs was questionable, the Valyrian steel had indeed been seen.

Meris, however, was unimpressed with Baland's "information." They were already aware of some of the pirates' activities. But even knowing wouldn't help; the sheer number of pirates gathering, with ships packed together and thousands of men, made them a formidable force. The chosen location was so hidden and rugged that a large army couldn't enter, and a small one would be slaughtered.

In short, Baland's information was worthless.

As Meris prepared to execute him and hang his head on the bow as a warning, Jalifah intervened. "Lady, you can kill the others as you wish, but I need to take him back."

Jalifah had his reasons—not just for Baland but for the armor the pirates wore. Armor was a strategic resource; the more they had in reserve, the better their chances in a critical moment. Additionally, the armor and pirates served as material evidence against House Fregar. Even if it couldn't harm them directly, it could severely damage their reputation and prevent Tormo or his sons from running for the next Sealord—a goal Jalifah had agreed upon with Viserys beforehand.

In the end, they divided the spoils. Jalifah took a few pirate leaders and their armor. The ships and supplies were left to Meris. Despite losing nearly twenty sailors in the battle, the Windblown had gained enough loot to more than compensate for their losses. The three longships alone would fetch three or four thousand gold dragons if sold.

Meris had fifty pirate heads cut off and hung on the ship as a deterrent. The gruesome trophies swayed and clashed like macabre wind chimes as the group continued toward Tyrosh.

As they sailed, Viserys took the opportunity to ask about Webber.

"About half a year ago, we had a standoff with the Company of the Cat at Shield Lake. Bloodbeard and a group of pirates ambushed our people."

Chapter 95: The Red Widow

After hearing Meris's story, Viserys learned that this "Webber" was also from Westeros, just like them. Webber hailed from Coldmoat in The Reach, and his lineage was tied to the infamous "Red Widow." This Red Widow earned her name by marrying five husbands in succession, with the last one being a Lannister. In fact, she was Tywin's grandmother. The Red Widow didn't die of old age; instead, she mysteriously disappeared, leaving even the Lannisters unable to find her.

Returning to the current Webber, Viserys recalled that three or four months ago, during the Battle of the Shield Lake, the Seventh Battalion, which Webber commanded, had suffered heavy losses. From over 200 men, their numbers had dwindled to just over 70. As a result, the leader of the Windblown, the Tattered Prince, was considering disbanding the battalion.

Viserys realized that if Webber wanted to command a battalion again, his only option might be the Seventh Battalion, which was primarily composed of Westerosi. Defeated by a formidable enemy, with his battalion in disarray, Webber had been assigned to lead it during this critical period. Viserys then thought of a certain handsome young man who was well-known in the countryside.

...

Regis's penetrating wound had miraculously avoided infection, leaving him with only a slight restriction in neck movement and no other lasting effects. Now, everyone on the ship affectionately calls him "Lucky Regis," a nickname he's proud to have earned so early in his career.

After another three or four days of sailing, the group arrived in Tyrosh early one morning. From a distance, the black walls of Tyrosh nearly blended in with the rocky island on which the city sat. Surrounded by the sea, Tyrosh boasted several harbors, and from above, the large and small ships resembled tadpoles clustered around a mother frog. Viserys and the others docked at the port on the west side of the city. Unlike other cities, Tyrosh lacked grand statues of Titans but was home to the famous Topless Tower, a structure carved into the rock. The majority of the Topless Tower served as a "slave transit station," giving it its name. The top of the tower functioned as a lighthouse, guiding ships to the port.

The port of Tyrosh buzzed with an almost chaotic energy, the noise so pervasive that Viserys could feel the commotion even before their ship docked. Tyrosh was known for its flamboyant culture, often described as the city of many strange hair colors.

Viserys had thought Daario's appearance at the festival was audacious, but when he saw Tyroshi, he realized Daario had been downright subdued.

Tyrosh was famous for its vibrant pigments, and the locals dyed their hair in vivid shades of scarlet, green, blue, chestnut, and cherry red. A strong, heady scent filled the air, and Viserys even spotted someone sporting a Mohawk-like hairstyle. The Tyroshi aesthetic was undeniably bold and unrestrained.

As soon as they disembarked, Dick engaged in conversation with a group of coachmen speaking a Valyrian dialect. Although Viserys was fluent in Valyrian, he could only grasp the general idea of what was being said. Tyrosh was one of the Free Cities, and it wasn't uncommon to see slave owners unloading lines of slaves from ships. Some even conducted sales in crowded areas, where traders would lift the slaves, pull back their clothes to display their bodies to potential buyers, and even inspect their teeth as if they were livestock. Some slaves had a wild, fierce look in their eyes, barely covered by tattered animal skins, as though they had been captured from beyond the Wall.

The scene before her made Dany, who had recently left Braavos, feel a pang of discomfort, but she remained silent. She was no longer the timid girl she once was; she had become a warrior, fighting alongside her brother Viserys. Although she found the sight disturbing, she did not dwell on the idea of intervening. Jorah, however, appeared completely at ease, having been involved in such transactions before.

Viserys felt a subtle shift within himself. After listening to the Valyrian dialect for about half an hour, he noticed a new skill appear on his panel:

Valyrian (Dialect): Beginner (11/100) +

To navigate the city more freely, Viserys promptly upgraded the skill to "Ordinary." This would ensure that, as long as he avoided specialized trade jargon, he wouldn't be easily deceived by locals.

Meanwhile, Dick arranged several wagons for the group and prepared to send them to the Windblown's office in Tyrosh. He stayed behind to oversee the loading and unloading of their goods and was also tasked with selling the pirate ship captured from the Iron Hook Pirates.

"Please get in the carriage, Lord," one of the attendants said.

Viserys and Meris shared a carriage, where she began explaining the customs of Tyrosh to him. "The people of Tyrosh are notoriously greedy. There's nothing they won't sell if the price is right—even their wives. You'll find mercenaries and pleasure gardens on every corner."

Through the window, Viserys observed a man making a sales pitch, trying to sell a woman to another man. The woman cooperated, flaunting her charms. Whether she was actually his wife or merely someone he was pimping out, Viserys couldn't be sure.

At Meris's prompting, Viserys turned his attention to a building with a large yellow door, adorned with several skulls strung together. "That's tied to the Golden Company," she explained. "Because Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys are all part of the Disputed Lands, you'll find mercenary headquarters in the Free Cities. Not just the Golden Company, but also the Stormcrows, the Long Lances, all top-tier mercenary groups."

Meris continued, "The supreme ruler of Tyrosh is called the Archon. Unlike the secretive dealings of the three houses of Braavos, here they openly engage in bribery. In fact, among the Tyroshi, it's believed that if you don't understand the art of bribery, you're unfit to rule."

"Look over there," she instructed, pointing out a massive statue of a three-headed god. Though Viserys hadn't seen it in Braavos, the triangular tower next to the statue seemed familiar.

"That's a temple dedicated to the Three-Headed God. It's said that one head devours death, another spits out new life, and the third is a mystery."

"How long has this statue been here?" Viserys asked.

"I'm not sure," Meris replied. "It seems like it's always been here, maybe even since the time of Valyria."

Viserys nodded, feeling a growing sense of anticipation. He decided he would investigate further after meeting the Tattered Prince. Valyrians were known to be atheists, seeing themselves as gods due to their control over dragons and magic. If this statue indeed dated back to the Valyrian era, it might hold unexpected significance.

As they traveled deeper into the city, the streets became congested with vendors and merchants haggling over prices, causing traffic delays. "That purple-haired one, give us some space! Hey, I'm talking to you!" Meris shouted, leaning out of the carriage. Her scarred face lent her words an intimidating authority, and the vendor quickly moved his stall out of the way. Despite her efforts, it still took nearly an hour to reach the Windblown's office.

Once they arrived, Viserys immediately felt the harsh sunlight, which made his eyes uncomfortable. Dany, too, shielded her eyes. Their light purple eyes were sensitive to bright light, and it became clear they would need to find a solution.

The office's entrance was marked by a blue and white striped flag of the Windblown. As they stepped through the door, they found themselves in front of a three-story mansion. In the courtyard between the gate and the mansion, Windblown mercenaries stood guard, maintaining order.

"Hey, Meris!"

The mercenaries greeted Meris as soon as they spotted her, their smiles a mix of flattery and unease. As the Windblown's interrogator and the Tattered Prince's right-hand, Meris held a level of authority far beyond that of an ordinary mercenary. She responded with a brief nod, continuing to walk alongside Viserys.

"Hey, our 'beauty' has brought back a pretty boy. Looks like she's ditched that Dick guy," one of the mercenaries muttered.

"Silver hair and purple eyes—maybe he's from Lys? And what's he doing with that little dwarf?" another whispered as they pointed at the siblings. Dany, clad in leather armor and wearing a mask, went unnoticed as a girl.

The first floor of the mansion was crowded with mercenaries who had come to 'apply for a job.' They hailed from all corners of the world, their skin tones varying widely. Among them were two dark-skinned men who appeared to be from the Summer Isles.

Viserys, however, didn't have to wait with the rest. Meris led him straight upstairs, leaving the other mercenaries to eye him with envy, though none dared voice it aloud. Viserys carried himself with a tall, steady gait, giving the impression of a seasoned warrior.

Soon, Viserys was ushered into a waiting room. The walls were adorned with short swords, scimitars, shields, and helmets, a display of the Windblown's martial prowess.

"I'll go and find the captain. Wait here for a moment," Meris said before leaving the room.

...

The captain of the Windblown, known as the Tattered Prince, was a man in his sixties with silver-gray hair and heavy bags under his eyes, sagging like a rooster's wattles, giving him a perpetually mournful expression. He had founded the Windblown about twenty years ago, starting with a group of six men—now, he was the only one left. As the first and only leader of the Windblown, he had fled from Pentos to avoid being sacrificed, a decision that had tragic consequences for his family. His greatest desire over the years had been to return to Pentos and exact revenge on the nobles responsible for his family's slaughter.

Behind him hung a map of the Disputed Lands, covered in various markings, with Lys prominently marked by a large red cross. The Tattered Prince's true name was known only to himself. Those close to him addressed him as "Captain," while others used the more distant title of "Tattered Prince."

"Captain, you'll never guess who I've brought back with me this time!" Meris exclaimed eagerly as soon as she saw him.

"Qarro Volentin?" the captain guessed.

"No, but someone even better!" Meris replied, brimming with excitement.

The old captain's curiosity was piqued. The results of the Swordsmanship Tournament in Braavos had not yet been widely disseminated, so when Meris revealed that she had brought back the tournament champion, he was genuinely surprised. Upon learning that the champion was none other than Viserys, his reaction was difficult to describe. However, this didn't mean he hesitated to consider using Viserys—after all, the world of sellswords was filled with people from all walks of life. Even Aegor "Bittersteel" had joined the ranks after losing a power struggle. Viserys was no exception.

What concerned the captain more was the credibility of Viserys's victory. It initially sounded too far-fetched, but since the prize for the tournament winner was a Valyrian steel sword, he decided to see for himself.

"Three thousand gold dragons in payment, plus a sister, and only willing to sign a one-year contract..." the old captain murmured to himself. The demands were indeed excessive, but if Viserys proved suitable, it might be worth considering. He turned to Meris and asked, "By the way, how old is this Viserys?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen? He's too young," the captain said, shaking his head. Young men that age often had a dangerous misconception—they believed that only others would die on the battlefield, never themselves. When faced with defeat, they tended to spiral into depression, retreat into escapism, or even collapse entirely. In other words, while young men could be used as cannon fodder, putting them in command was tantamount to sending them to their deaths. This was why the captain preferred older, more seasoned commanders.

"Didn't you say he also brought Jorah Mormont? I've heard of him—he can stay. Tell Viserys that if he doesn't want to start as an ordinary mercenary, he should find another path," the captain instructed.

"But Commander..." Meris began, but the Tattered Prince waved her off. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a handful of copper stars and coins, along with a few gold dragons. He intended to offer Viserys some compensation, acknowledging Meris's efforts in bringing him here. Originally, he had considered adding a gemstone, but the Windblown's strained finances made him reluctant.

Sensing the captain's hesitation, Meris quickly recounted their recent battle at sea, piquing the captain's interest further.

"You mean he volunteered to be bait to lure the pirates, and then you and House Zalyne wiped them out?" the captain asked.

"Yes! Exactly!" Meris confirmed, eager to convince him. "He used an unusual long spear, but it was incredibly effective. He could take on ten men at once!"

"Then bring him in," the captain said, stroking his eyebrows thoughtfully. 'If this young man was truly as formidable as Meris described, it might be worth giving him a chance.'

Chapter 96: The Tattered Prince

"It's just around the corner," Meris said, pointing the way for Viserys before staying behind to keep Dany company.

Viserys approached the old captain's door, knocked, and then bowed respectfully as he entered. In his mind, the Tattered Prince was a man of sharp intuition. In the original story, when Daenerys fought against the Great Masters and Wise Masters in Slaver's Bay, the Tattered Prince had accurately sensed the fragility of the slave masters. Confident that the Mother of Dragons would ultimately prevail, he sent his Westerosi mercenaries to make contact with her—a decision that proved his foresight, as Daenerys did indeed secure her position in Slaver's Bay.

"Lord Commander," Viserys greeted.

"Lord Viserys, please, have a seat," the Tattered Prince replied.

The two men regarded each other across the desk. The Tattered Prince, a seasoned soldier, exuded the scent of leather and steel—an aura vastly different from that of an ordinary old man. Yet, as he looked at Viserys, he was momentarily perplexed. The young man before him appeared no older than sixteen, yet he carried himself with the poise and cunning of a veteran warrior. His light step and resolute gaze suggested a wealth of battlefield experience—far beyond his years.

'Could this be what some might call a natural-born "mercenary"?' The Tattered Prince didn't have a term for it, but he realized he had underestimated Viserys. Still, whether this impression was accurate remained to be seen.

"I need to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?" the captain asked.

"Of course," Viserys replied.

Viserys recalled his mercenary experiences from his past life, expecting questions to test his values and loyalty, such as, "If we go to war with your home country, will you follow orders without hesitation?" or "In the face of women and children, can you kill if necessary?" He believed he was prepared for anything the old captain might ask.

But the captain's question caught him off guard.

"What are your thoughts on revenge?"

Viserys paused, staring into the captain's brown eyes. Then it clicked—this was a deeply personal question. The Tattered Prince had fled Pentos to escape being sacrificed, a decision that had led to the destruction of his family. He had long harbored a desire to reclaim Pentos and avenge them. Viserys, too, sought revenge—to reclaim Westeros and avenge his father and brother-in-law. Their goals were strikingly similar.

It was, indeed, a matter of values.

"In my view, revenge is a necessary means of maintaining public morality," Viserys began.

The old captain leaned forward, intrigued, signaling for him to continue.

"If someone punches you and you don't retaliate, they'll move on to punch someone else. If someone kills your family and steals what's yours, and you don't take revenge, they'll kill more and take more. So, revenge and retaliation are not only legitimate but just. So-called tolerance is nothing more than a self-soothing lie for the weak."

As Viserys spoke, the Tattered Prince's eyes brightened, his interest clearly piqued. Though he had never abandoned his desire for revenge, Viserys's words seemed to reinvigorate him, as if he had been infused with new resolve.

The old captain nodded in satisfaction. After discussing Viserys's views on revenge a bit more, he said, "I'm aware of your terms, and the Windblown can accept them. But I have one question."

"Please, ask," Viserys replied.

"With your skills, the Golden Company should have offered you a better deal. Why didn't you choose them?"

Viserys paused, considering his response before speaking. "You may not have heard of the Banquet of the Crown. I earned the name 'The Beggar King' because of those men. My goal is to defeat them one day, not join them."

Though his answer seemed a bit youthful, it was without obvious flaws. Yet, the Tattered Prince, with his long years of experience, sensed there was more to the story. He knew this wasn't the full truth, but he decided not to press further. After all, for some, joining a mercenary company was merely a means to an end, and he himself understood that better than anyone.

The old captain nodded and continued, "I assume Meris mentioned the 7th Battalion on your way here?"

"Yes, she did," Viserys replied.

"Are you interested?"

"I can give it a try."

With that, Viserys and the Windblown formalized their agreement by signing a contract. The first clause stood out starkly: "The captain has the right to punish deserters and traitors in any way he sees fit."

Viserys recalled a story about the Windblown's cook, who had once deserted, claiming the food was too terrible to bear. As punishment, the Tattered Prince had his legs cut off and forced him to eat them. Remarkably, the man continued working as the cook, and the quality of the Windblown's food improved dramatically thereafter. It was clear that with this captain, there was no option to refuse, 'you take the carrot, or you'll get the stick.'

The contract also detailed other aspects, such as remuneration and the distribution of spoils. For instance, a sergeant major could personally invest in equipment, with the spoils proportionately increased according to their contribution. 'No wonder he hails from Pentos,' Viserys mused, noting the similarity to a profit-sharing arrangement. This system could foster a relatively loyal team. Considering the 7th Battalion's likely poor equipment, Viserys thought about asking Illyrio for assistance; the old man hadn't received a gold coin from him in a while.

Another reason Viserys accepted command of the 7th Battalion was that most of its members were Westerosi. Take "Spider Webber," the current sergeant major, for example—banished to the Free Cities by his own house, he longed to return to his homeland. The most crucial element for any team was its shared "values." By taking over the Seventh Battalion, Viserys saw an opportunity to recruit more loyalists for his eventual "reconquest of Westeros."

"We'll be leaving Tyrosh in three days. I'll have Meris arrange accommodations for you. Feel free to explore the city in the meantime," the old captain said.

"Thank you. I'll take my leave now," Viserys responded, standing to go.

Just as he was about to leave, the old captain added, "Oh, and we won't be responsible for your sister's safety."

"Of course. I'll take care of her myself."

"Good. That's all."

Meanwhile, despite Regis still recovering from his injuries, the Tattered Prince signed both him and Jorah to one-year contracts. He didn't sign Kyla, as he had no need for an assassin.

"It's still early—let's head to the Temple of the Three-Headed God," Viserys suggested. Given that the Three-Headed God was the dominant belief in Tyrosh, he was curious to see if there was anything unique about it. If the temple truly dated back to the Valyrian period, perhaps his panel might show some sort of reaction.

Chapter 97: The First Head Devours the Dying, and the Reborn Emerges from the Third

Viserys's suggestion met no opposition, and after leaving the office, the group headed straight for the Temple of the Three-Headed God. Tyrosh had a total population of around 300,000, over 200,000 of whom were slaves. As they walked through the city, they passed numerous naked slaves, many of whom were laboring as porters, miners, or performing other menial tasks. West of Tyrosh, in the copper mines alone, there were more than 30,000 enslaved workers. The more fortunate slaves might serve as waiters, clerks, or craftsmen.

Viserys reflected on the issue of slavery as they walked. While freeing all the slaves at once might seem noble, it would inevitably lead to the same challenges the Mother of Dragons faced in Slaver's Bay. However, perhaps a gradual approach—releasing their power slowly—could be more effective.

As these thoughts occupied his mind, the group arrived near the Temple of the Three-Headed God. From their previous vantage point, they hadn't been able to see the statue clearly, but now, up close, its towering presence was undeniable. The statue, cast in bronze and standing five or six meters tall, featured three massive heads that dominated its structure, occupying nearly three-quarters of the entire figure. From a structural standpoint, it seemed improbable, but according to Meris, the statue was thousands of years old and possibly crafted through magic.

"There's a legend that touching the toes of the Three-Headed God brings good luck," Meris said, pointing to the statue's toes. "According to the tale, those who touch the toes will become fortunate."

Looking in the direction Meris indicated, Viserys noticed that the toes of the statue were indeed smoother than the rest, worn down by countless touches over the centuries.

"Haha, then I don't need to touch it!" Regis boasted, showing off the scar on his neck. These days, he often stretched his neck, as if trying to gain an extra inch.

"The first head devours the dying and the reborn emerge from the third, and the middle one… I'm not sure," Viserys mused as he examined the three-headed statue, trying to deduce the purpose of the third head based on his knowledge from his past life. From death to rebirth—perhaps resurrection? But simply being alive would make one a vegetable, right? It seemed that the third head might represent more than just life—perhaps it symbolized a soul-consuming force that then rebirths the soul into a new body.

Although he had several theories in mind, none could be confirmed. Determined to test his suspicions, Viserys approached the statue and placed his hand on its massive toe.

Suddenly, blue text appeared before his eyes:

[Contacting Valyrian magic tool, the skill 'Skinchanger' transforms into 'Soul Binder.']

''Soul Binder'? 'Magic tool'?' Viserys repeated, surprised by the unfamiliar terms. Quickly, he opened his panel. Sure enough, the "Skinchanger" skill had vanished, replaced by "Soul Binder."

— Soul Binder: Ordinary (300/300) + —

It appeared that "Soul Binder" was a more advanced skill than "Skinchanger," as the latter had been downgraded from near-Expert level to Ordinary. Without hesitation, Viserys invested some proficiency points, advancing the skill to Proficient.

Suddenly, a vast sea appeared before Viserys's eyes. He felt the surge of waves beneath him, and it was as if he were flying, looking down at the earth from a bird's-eye view.

'No, I'm not flying… it's the seagull!' Viserys realized, astonished that he could share the seagull's vision without invading its consciousness. This meant he now had an extra pair of eyes at his disposal, and the implications were enormous.

He imagined that as his Soul Binder skill advanced, he might even be able to control animal companions without the need for a full mind invasion. If he could eventually bond with a more powerful creature, wouldn't that mean he could command two bodies simultaneously?

'I'm not controlling any beasts—I'm fighting alongside a dragon! I am the dragon!' he thought with growing excitement. It also occurred to him that he could likely link with a second animal companion right now. Considering future battles on land, a seagull wasn't exactly the fiercest of allies. But if he could bond with an eagle—or even a vulture—he'd have a formidable advantage. Vultures, with their ability to hover for extended periods, could provide continuous battlefield surveillance, and the keen eyesight of these birds meant that no enemy, whether hiding in barracks or fleeing, could escape his notice.

Elated by the discovery that this trip had been far from fruitless, Viserys looked at the statue before him with renewed interest. The system message had mentioned "Valyrian magic tool," confirming that this was not just a statue but something deeply tied to magic.

What had the Valyrians used it for? As masters of dragons and magic, the Valyrians were atheists who considered themselves gods, so it made sense that they would create a "magic tool" rather than an idol of worship.

Given the transformation of his Skinchanger skill into Soul Binder, it was clear that this tool had something to do with the soul. Perhaps, as he had speculated earlier, it was used to create new life by combining a body with a soul—or possibly to do the reverse, separating a soul from its body.

For a moment, Viserys felt a deep curiosity about the ruins of Valyria. However, he quickly remembered the countless people throughout history who had ventured there only to disappear forever.

Even Aerea Targaryen, the third dragon rider of Balerion the Black Dread—Aegon the Conqueror's dragon—had died after returning from Valyria. Balerion had suffered grievous wounds, and Aerea had succumbed to a fever, with tiny worms erupting from her body before her death. Before her, a Dragonlord who proclaimed himself the "Emperor of Valyria" had led 30,000 men into the ruins, never to return.

The only one known to have succeeded in plundering Valyria was Euron Greyjoy, who had returned with Valyrian steel armor, a dragon horn, and a dragon egg. Yet even thinking about Euron filled Viserys with unease. He decided to put aside any plans for exploring Valyria until he was stronger. Perhaps, when the time was right, he could even manipulate Euron into doing the dangerous work for him.

With thoughts of Valyria temporarily set aside, Viserys turned his attention back to finding new animals to use for warging or "soul binding." Dany had only managed to warg a lark before, which hadn't been particularly effective. So, the group decided to visit a circus that was preparing for a show.

There, Viserys's eye was immediately drawn to a young golden eagle, about a meter in length. Though not yet fully grown, it already displayed the majesty and power of a bird of prey. Its feathers, a blend of dark brown and gold, shimmered with a metallic sheen in the sunlight. Although its body wasn't as imposing as that of an adult golden eagle, its thin, bony frame exuded a wild beauty, with every bone seemingly infused with strength and tenacity.

'With enough meat, it'll soon grow into a powerful ally,' Viserys thought, his mind made up. "You're the one," he declared, choosing the eagle as his next companion.

Chapter 98: Everyone, Would You Like a Valyrian Steel Sword?

"How much for the golden eagle?" Viserys asked.

"I'm sorry, Master, this one is part of our performance. I've raised it since it was a chick..." The man speaking was a Dothraki, and though his Valyrian was surprisingly fluent, it was clear he had been living in Tyrosh for some time.

"Ten gold dragons," Viserys offered.

"Master, it's not about the money," the Dothraki replied, his face showing signs of discomfort.

"Fifteen gold dragons."

"Master, this golden eagle..." The Dothraki hesitated, visibly torn.

"Thirty gold dragons."

The Dothraki sighed, finally relenting. "Please treat it well."

In the end, Viserys also purchased a horned owl from the Dothraki for Dany. Viserys had told her that owls could see in the dark, and Dany was eager to experience that sensation for herself.

After the transaction, Viserys struck up a conversation with the Dothraki man. "Why didn't you return to the Grass Sea to sell your talents?"

"My khalasar was originally near the Red Waste," the Dothraki explained. "But as the Red Waste expanded, we were forced to move. Eventually, we crossed paths with a Khal named Bharbo, who absorbed our khalasar. I managed to escape..."

"Bharbo? Isn't he the father of Khal Drogo?" Viserys inquired.

"Yes, exactly. In fact, the khalasar now belongs to Khal Drogo."

The name 'Drogo' immediately caught Dany's attention. Illyrio had once suggested marrying her to Drogo, and though Viserys had promised not to use her as a bargaining chip, hearing the name still unsettled her.

Meanwhile, Viserys's thoughts turned to Drogo's motivation for a "western expedition." He knew from the original story that Drogo announced his plans to move west after Daenerys became pregnant, claiming it was because he now had a "right" to the Iron Throne through his marriage. But that reasoning had always seemed weak to Viserys.

The Dothraki Sea was separated from Westeros by the Free Cities and the Narrow Sea, and Westeros could easily muster an army of 100,000 or 200,000 men. Even with a claim to the throne, such a decision would require careful consideration. Viserys suspected there must have been more pressing reasons behind Drogo's desire for conquest.

Now, Viserys believed he had found it: the Red Waste. Its expansion was straining resources and escalating conflicts within the Dothraki. This, he realized, was the real reason behind Drogo's western ambitions—a need to secure new resources and territory to alleviate the growing pressures at home.

However, Dany would not marry Drogo now, which meant the Horselord had no immediate reason to declare war on Westeros.

Instead, his gaze would likely turn to the Free Cities. If Viserys were to seize territory in the Free Cities in the future, a clash with Drogo would be inevitable.

But these were concerns for another time, Viserys decided, shelving the thoughts for now. Without an army, such considerations were premature. For the time being, he pushed the matter aside and continued exploring Tyrosh.

Afterwards, Viserys and his entourage continued to explore the city together. Wherever they went, Regis couldn't resist showing off the freshly stitched scar on his neck.

"Yep, a two-foot-long curved knife got me!" he would boast, stretching his neck for emphasis. "It was this long, went in right here, and came out the back."

Before anyone could even ask, Regis was already explaining the details, which left the others feeling a bit embarrassed by his enthusiasm.

Their wandering eventually led them to an open-air stall specializing in hair dyeing. The stall owner had set up several beds where people could lie or sit while dye was poured onto their heads. Viserys had expected the dye to smell unpleasant, but to his surprise, it carried a faint fragrance. None of them had seen hair dyeing done before, so they stopped to watch, intrigued.

Regis, ever eager for attention, began displaying his neck scar again, trying to impress the customers getting their hair dyed.

Finally, Dick, unable to stand it any longer, said, "Regis, how about getting your hair dyed? I'll pay for it."

Realizing he was being teased, Regis sheepishly shrank his neck and touched his bald head, causing Jorah and the others to burst into laughter.

For the next two days, Viserys focused on dealing with the spoils of their recent battle, working closely with Meris and the others. As mercenaries, they had little use for so many ships, so the group discussed selling them. Recognizing Viserys's significant role in the battle, Meris suggested that he should handle one of the ships himself.

Instead, Viserys decided to keep the ship for the time being and asked Meris to use the proceeds to purchase a new batch of weapons. He knew that to secure loyalty, he needed to provide for his men first. Replacing old equipment and improving food supplies all required money—money that wouldn't come for free. By paying for their equipment, Viserys would gain more influence over the distribution of future spoils.

'If you eat my food and use my weapons, you'll fight for me when the time comes', he thought. However, while weapons were relatively easy to acquire, armor was a different matter entirely. The cost of armor was in a different league altogether.

With this in mind, Viserys had written to Illyrio two days earlier, requesting that he find some armor. The old man hadn't been asked for a favor in a while, and now was the time for him to contribute.

Three days passed quickly, and soon the group boarded a ship bound for the Windblown's camp on the mainland. This marked the official beginning of Viserys's mercenary career.

The Windblown's camp was home to about 4,000 men. Blue canvas tents stretched as far as the eye could see, covering two adjacent hills, and large and small blue-and-white striped flags fluttered in the breeze.

"This is our camp," Meris explained to Viserys. "The captain likes to call it the canvas castle. It only takes an hour for us to break it down and move out."

After spending the past few days with her, Viserys had come to realize that Meris held the Tattered Prince in high regard—almost with the adoration of a daughter toward her father. As they entered the camp, Viserys noticed the meticulous arrangement, a testament to the experience of a veteran who had seen many battles.

When they approached the gates, the guards on the towers signaled to those below. The gates swung open, and a group of guards swiftly removed the barricades, allowing them to enter. Inside, the Tattered Prince called for the sergeants to gather for a meeting. As a new member, Viserys was expected to attend.

"Dany, let's go," Meris said, gesturing to the girl. As an interrogator, Meris didn't usually participate in combat meetings, so she offered to teach Dany something new at the camp.

After bidding Dany farewell, Viserys and Dick entered the main tent. It was sparsely furnished, with only a few stools and a large map that covered an entire wall like a door.

Soon, a red-bearded mercenary in his forties entered the tent. He greeted Dick with a playful jab.

"Hey, Dick! How was your honeymoon?"

"It was fine, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for your little brother," Dick shot back.

"Go to hell!" the man laughed, then turned to Viserys. "I'd like you to meet Viserys Targaryen, champion of Braavos in swordsmanship, our newest recruit."

"Viserys, this is 'Beans' Baqq, the Sergeant Major of the Fourth Battalion."

"Baqq," Viserys said, standing to greet him.

"So, you're the one they call the Beggar King?" Baqq asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's me."

"Ha! Do you know what we call the old captain? The Tattered Prince. You two must get along well."

Baqq was a sociable man, and soon the two were chatting easily. Before long, the sergeants from the various battalions began to arrive. Viserys noted that they were a diverse group, with skin tones ranging from black and brown to white and olive. Among them, two sergeants—a black man and a white man—walked in close together.

According to Dick, both men were named Gerrold. To distinguish between them, the fair-skinned one was called Redback Gerrold due to a large red birthmark on his back, while the dark-skinned one was known as Black Gerrold. As was customary among mercenaries, almost everyone cast a quick glance around the room upon entering. Viserys's silver hair, purple eyes, and fine armor naturally drew their attention. But there was another reason he stood out—he was far too young.

Suspicion lingered in the air as the mercenaries eyed him. They all knew that their captain would never allow someone so young to command. Just as one of them tried to approach Viserys, the Tattered Prince entered the camp with two of his most trusted mercenary leaders.

One of them was a towering figure, standing over 1.9 meters tall, his face marred by scars. At his waist hung a Dothraki arakh, the blade clearly forged from Valyrian steel, adorned with a pattern that resembled blood splatters. The other man was about fifty, with a weathered face and a gray beard.

"The one with the scars is Caggo, and the one with the white beard is Denzo. They're the captain's most trusted men," Dick whispered to Viserys. It was obvious that these two served distinct roles—Caggo as a formidable enforcer, and Denzo as a seasoned advisor.

As soon as the Tattered Prince took his seat, the tent fell silent. He surveyed the room, and everyone straightened up.

"I have three matters to address," the old commander began. "First, I've renewed our contract with Tyrosh. Our enemy will remain the same for the time being."

Viserys raised an eyebrow, noticing how the captain's voice carried a commanding authority. Some of the men nodded thoughtfully, but most remained impassive.

At that moment, a short, stocky mercenary with a spider web tattoo stood up and asked, "Commander, is the Company of the Cat still serving Lys?"

"That's right," the Tattered Prince replied.

"I request to continue serving at Shield Lake, even as an ordinary soldier!"

"We'll discuss that later," the commander said firmly.

The mercenary, who was none other than Webber, the sergeant major of the 7th Battalion, sat down reluctantly. He looked like he wanted to say more, but when Caggo, seated to the right of the Tattered Prince, shot him a warning glance, Webber held his tongue.

"Second," the captain continued, "we need a garrison at Shield Lake. Who's willing to go?"

"I'll do it!" Beans Baqq, sitting next to Viserys, stood up without hesitation.

The captain nodded. Baqq's battalion was mostly archers, making them well-suited for the task. Webber, however, seemed restless, clearly disappointed at not being chosen.

"Third," the Tattered Prince said, pointing in Viserys's direction, "Viserys Targaryen."

Viserys stood and faced the room. The eyes of all the sergeants turned toward him, scrutinizing his youthful appearance. They had already noticed him earlier, but now, seeing him up close, their doubts resurfaced. He was so young that even as a support soldier, they would find his presence unsettling.

"You will take over as sergeant major of the Seventh Battalion and be responsible for its rebuilding," the captain declared.

"Yes!" Viserys responded, but before he could sit down, Webber voiced his objection.

"Commander, how old is he? If he's made sergeant major of the Seventh Battalion, we might as well disband it now!"

Webber's challenge was direct, and this time Caggo didn't try to silence him with a glare. Convincing the men to follow such a young leader would indeed be difficult. None of the sergeants present had become leaders without spending at least seven to ten years as sellswords, and they were all in their thirties or forties before earning their ranks.

"This is my decision," the Tattered Prince stated firmly. "If he fails to rebuild the Seventh Battalion within three months, it will be disbanded. Additionally, Viserys is the champion of the Swordsmanship Tournament in Braavos."

The captain's words eased much of the tension in the room. While it was still uncertain whether Viserys could lead, at least he was a proven fighter. Winning the Braavosi championship suggested he had some skill, which reassured many.

Yet, Viserys could still feel a critical gaze upon him—Caggo's. Their eyes met, and Viserys sensed a mutual desire for combat.

"If any of you want to test my skills or compare your abilities with mine, I'm always ready," Viserys said with a sly grin, making a slightly risqué joke that suited the rough company. The remark worked, as a few mercenaries chuckled, and others seemed more open to accepting him.

"Count me in," one of them said.

"Me too!" added another.

Soon, three or four men expressed their desire to challenge him, including Webber. Surprisingly, though, Caggo, despite his fierce appearance, didn't step forward but continued to watch quietly.

"All right, no problem. I'll be waiting for you at the 7th Battalion," Viserys said confidently. "But in my opinion, a duel is pointless without a wager to make it interesting."

With that, he unsheathed his sword and held it up for everyone to see. The mercenaries, seasoned veterans, immediately recognized the blade as a genuine Valyrian steel sword.

"Gentlemen, this Valyrian steel sword was my prize in the Braavosi Swordsmanship Tournament. Defeat me, and it's yours!" Viserys's offer sent a ripple of excitement through the room.

The mercenaries were taken aback by the boldness of his wager. This young man was playing a high-stakes game right from the start, and the challenge left many of them eager to test their mettle against him.

Chapter 99: Is He Crazy?

The sight of the Valyrian steel sword immediately sparked interest among the mercenaries. A Valyrian steel sword might not be a rare object to the powerful and wealthy, but to this group of hardened sellswords, it was an extraordinary treasure. Viserys's bold offer struck them as a sign that he didn't take them seriously.

After all, a swordsmanship competition was one thing, but a real battle was something else entirely. Even Rhaegar Targaryen had defeated the Sword of the Morning in a tournament, yet he still fell to Robert Baratheon in battle with a single blow from a warhammer.

"Viserys! You..." Dick, sitting beside him, looked at him anxiously. Viserys's actions were provocative—if he won, all would be well, but if he lost, not only would he forfeit the priceless Valyrian steel sword, but his reputation within the Windblown would be irreparably damaged. Rebuilding the Seventh Battalion, as the old captain had tasked him, would be nearly impossible for a sergeant major who had embarrassed himself on his first day.

Beans Baqq also eyed Viserys with a mix of concern and curiosity. 'I was just talking to him, and he seemed level-headed, but now he's acting like a madman.'

A sergeant major with dyed red hair laughed loudly, "Haha, typical Targaryen—joins the Windblown and starts handing out 'gifts' right away."

The rest of the group laughed along, but beneath the humor was a collective resolve. If a young newcomer like Viserys managed to beat them, it would be humiliating. They were all prepared to stake a claim on the Seventh Battalion's spoils and fighters. If they lost, not only would they miss out on the battalion's resources, but they might even see their own men defect to the Seventh Battalion.

Viserys was well aware of the stakes. Entering the Seventh Battalion quietly would only invite resentment. The only way to assert his authority and rebuild the battalion was to demonstrate his strength. He had to offer incentives but also prove he had the power to enforce discipline.

He glanced up at the Tattered Prince, who sat at the head of the table. The old commander gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.

Meanwhile, at the Seventh Battalion's camp, the mood was one of apathy and uncertainty. Some mercenaries were tending to their companions' wounds, while others idly polished their weapons. Many were already speculating about which battalion they would be assigned to after the Seventh Battalion was inevitably disbanded.

"I want to join Denzo's battalion," said a tall, thin sellsword. "They've got the best food."

"Hmph, is that why you became a sellsword?" retorted another mercenary with a large neck tattoo. "I'm aiming for Caggo's battalion—they've got the best weapons and always get the best spoils."

"You wish! You can't just waltz into Caggo's battalion," another voice chimed in, and the camp buzzed with chatter, as if the Seventh Battalion's demise was already a foregone conclusion.

At that moment, a young mercenary, no older than twenty, rushed in. "Spider is back!" he announced, referring to Webber, nicknamed Spider for his web-like tattoo.

The mercenaries assumed it was time to be reassigned, so they began to gather. But the young man continued, "Not just Spider—sergeants from several other battalions are here too!"

"Haha, looks like they've come to pick the best of us!" quipped a lanky, shrewd-looking mercenary. The realization that it was time to clean up and make a good impression set in.

As Viserys and his entourage approached the Seventh Battalion, he noted that the hygiene in the "canvas castle" was better than expected. The Tattered Prince had designated specific areas for waste disposal and sanitation, so the air in the camp was surprisingly fresh.

It was rumored that the Tattered Prince preferred to give orders in High Valyrian, a sign of his origins as a Valyrian remnant.

It seemed that the Valyrians "remnants" had their own distinct way of organizing an army. As Viserys and his entourage arrived at the 7th Battalion's camp, he found himself surprised once again. The mercenaries of the 7th Battalion appeared remarkably composed and spirited, hardly resembling a group that had recently suffered a crushing defeat.

Webber, too, was puzzled by the sight of these seemingly energized soldiers. But after years of experience in the mercenary trade, he quickly pieced together what was happening.

"Look, it's Redback Gerrold, Black Gerrold, and even Caggo!" the mercenaries whispered among themselves, their eyes darting between the battalion leaders. They were already speculating about which battalion they might end up joining.

"Ahem," Webber cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the gathered soldiers. He pointed to Viserys. "This is Viserys Targaryen. He will be the new sergeant major of the 7th Battalion."

"Viserys?"

"Targaryen?"

"Who? Never heard of him."

The name sparked a wave of surprise among the soldiers. Many of them, especially the Westerosi in the 7th Battalion, recognized the weight that the Targaryen name carried, even if they weren't familiar with Viserys himself. The realization that a prince from a fallen royalty had joined their ranks left them bewildered.

For those unfamiliar with Viserys or indifferent to the Targaryen legacy, their concern was the young man's age. He was far younger than they expected for a sergeant major.

Doubt, suspicion, and surprise rippled through the ranks, accompanied by a cold murmur.

"He looks so young—can he really handle it?"

"Has the old fool, the Tattered Prince, lost his mind? Letting someone like this be our sergeant major?"

"Maybe I should see if another battalion will take me."

Viserys could sense the skepticism in the air. As a newcomer, he knew he hadn't yet earned their respect. But with the sergeants from other battalions willing to accept his challenge, he saw this as a perfect opportunity to prove himself.

Stepping forward, he pulled out the appointment letter given to him by the Tattered Prince and addressed the crowd. "Everyone, from today, I am responsible for the reconstruction of the 7th Battalion. How we'll go about it can be discussed later. For now, I intend to test my swordsmanship against these esteemed sergeants. Please, disperse and make room. And if anyone wants to place a bet, feel free to join in!"

The mercenaries exchanged surprised glances. They had never seen such an unorthodox way of taking command. But with little else to entertain them in the barracks, they were eager to watch the spectacle unfold. They were also curious to see just how skilled their new sergeant major truly was.

A space was quickly cleared, and Viserys took his place in the center, facing the sergeants who stood on the sidelines. He looked them over and confidently asked, "Which of you would like to go first?"

Chapter 100: Team Up to Defeat a “Dragon”

"I'll do it!" Webber stepped forward, his dissatisfaction with Viserys's sudden promotion evident. Though the Seventh Battalion wouldn't be disbanded immediately because of him, Webber couldn't stand the idea of a greenhorn leading them to ruin. If that was the alternative, it might be better for the battalion to disband.

Seeing that the first match would be between the new sergeant major and the former one, the gathered mercenaries buzzed with excitement.

Viserys offered Webber a respectful salute, but all he received in return was a dismissive huff. The two men drew their swords and faced off.

A sharp-eyed mercenary suddenly shouted, "Look! That's a Valyrian steel sword!" The realization sent a ripple through the crowd. The 7th Battalion soldiers, now seeing the prized weapon, understood that Viserys was no ordinary man. Their expectations of him rose, mingled with envy and a few greedy glances.

Webber began with a series of probing attacks, testing Viserys's defenses. But Viserys wasn't easily fooled, revealing no weaknesses. Instead, Webber was the one to falter first, his rhythm disrupted. Sensing an opportunity, Viserys launched a swift counterattack.

From the moment they clashed, Webber knew something was off. His opponent's strength far exceeded his expectations. After only three exchanges, Webber felt his arms growing numb, while Viserys seemed completely unfazed. It was clear that Webber's defeat was only a matter of time.

Unwilling to lose so easily, Webber intensified his assault, but Viserys was superior in both strength and skill. After a quick dodge, Viserys brought his blade to Webber's neck, signaling his victory.

"Good!" Regis, Viserys's squire, shouted loudly, his head held high. His enthusiasm was a bit out of place, though, as not many in the crowd were ready to support the "new guy." Still, Regis continued to cheer for Viserys, forcing Jorah to follow suit with some awkward applause.

Webber, though clearly disappointed, acknowledged his defeat. This time, he set aside his cold demeanor and bowed to Viserys.

"You're good," Darsent said, with his cherry-red hair, smirked but showed no intention of stepping up next. Viserys nodded with a smile and then turned to the other sergeants. "Anyone else want to challenge me?"

"I will!" a voice rang out, and Redback Gerrold stepped forward. Also from Westeros, Gerrold wasn't from a noble house of great renown, and only one of his ancestors had ever held the title of knight. As the second son in his family, he had chosen to leave for the Free Cities and become a mercenary. By the age of thirty, he had risen to the rank of sergeant.

Gerrold approached Viserys and bowed respectfully before announcing his challenge. As Viserys scanned the faces of the 7th Battalion, he noticed that many still wore expressions of amusement. Clearly, he hadn't yet achieved the impact he wanted.

"I recall that you and Black Gerrold are good friends," Viserys said, his voice carrying a provocative edge. "Why don't you fight together?"

Redback Gerrold's face darkened at the suggestion, and though Black Gerrold, standing nearby, kept his expression neutral, his eyes grew cold. The challenge was a blatant provocation.

Caggo's eyes also lit up with interest, and the mercenaries of the 7th Battalion erupted in exclamations.

"He wants to fight two at once? Is he that arrogant?"

"If someone like this becomes our sergeant, I don't think I'll survive to see next year."

"Does he think everyone's as weak as Webber?"

Dick, noticing the rising tension, wanted to speak up to dissuade Viserys, but ultimately, he held his tongue.

Dick wasn't worried that Viserys wouldn't be able to win; his concern was that victory might come at too high a cost in terms of popularity. If Viserys won, the two Gerrolds would be humiliated, unable to hold their heads up again, which could breed resentment. If he lost, he'd forfeit the Valyrian steel sword and be subjected to ridicule. Either outcome seemed less than ideal.

But Viserys saw things differently. 'Hated for winning? That's only because you're not strong enough,' he thought. 'When you're strong enough, hatred melts away like snow in the sun.'

Seeing Black Gerrold hesitate, Viserys raised the stakes. "What's the matter? Don't want to fight? Even if you both attack at once, my offer still stands!"

Already fired up, the two Gerrolds didn't need further encouragement. They attacked Viserys simultaneously from opposite sides, and the fight was on.

As the battle unfolded, the two Gerrolds quickly realized that Viserys was faster and more agile than they had anticipated. Their attempts to coordinate were ineffective—each time one tried to strike, the other inadvertently blocked or got in the way. Anxiety crept in as they recognized the risk of losing, but with anxiety came mistakes.

Sensing their growing desperation, Viserys exploited their weaknesses. He deftly slipped between them, delivered a swift kick to Black Gerrold, sending him sprawling, and brought his sword to rest against Redback Gerrold's neck.

"Well done!" Regis was the first to cheer, his applause echoing through the camp. This time, Jorah's clapping wasn't out of obligation; it carried genuine admiration.

The mercenaries of the 7th Battalion were stunned. They hadn't expected their new, young sergeant to be so formidable. No wonder he'd dared to fight two men at once—he clearly had the skills to back it up.

Dick watched the faces of the two Gerrolds, noting their discomfort. But when Viserys extended a hand to help Black Gerrold up, he accepted it, knowing that refusing would only make him look like a sore loser. Webber, observing from the sidelines, suddenly realized that Viserys had been holding back during their duel, allowing him to save his reputation.

Darsent set aside his earlier contempt, while Baqq acknowledged that Viserys's strength far exceeded his expectations.

"Lord Viserys is the champion of the Braavos Swordsmanship Tournament. You've got nothing to be ashamed of in losing to him!" Regis, not content with mere cheering, made sure to highlight Viserys's title.

The sergeants were already aware of Viserys's victory in Braavos, but this was news to the rank-and-file mercenaries. A wave of chatter spread through the crowd.

"The Braavos Swordsmanship Tournament? Champion? Is that true?"

"No wonder he beat two men. Maybe having a sergeant like him isn't so bad."

"Sure, but a swordsmanship tournament is still a far cry from a real battle."

The remarks varied, but it was clear that the doubts and contempt that had greeted Viserys were beginning to fade.

Yet, Viserys wasn't satisfied. He wanted to cement his authority not just among the mercenaries, but also among the sergeants. He needed to make it clear that his martial skills were beyond challenge, that opposing him was futile, and that his command of the 7th Battalion was absolute.

"If anyone of you wishes to challenge me, I'm ready!" Viserys declared, scanning the crowd. Some of the men still harbored thoughts of testing him, but after seeing him defeat both Gerrolds at once, many decided against it. Challenging him now would seem presumptuous, even foolish.

Caggo, the tall man with the curved sword, stood in the crowd, his thumb absently rubbing the hilt as he weighed his options. Many eyes turned toward him, wondering what he would do.

Seeing no immediate takers, Viserys raised the stakes once more. "You can all come at me together. If you defeat me, you can still claim my Valyrian steel sword!" His voice was calm, but his tone was laced with temptation as he looked around the assembled mercenaries.

Chapter 101: No, That’s Your Blade

Viserys brandished the Valyrian steel sword in his hand, flaunting it as a madam might boast about her best girls.

"This is the real deal. Don't believe me? Ask around. What was the prize for the Braavos Swordsmanship Competition this year?"

He scanned the crowd, noticing no one was willing to step forward. Sensing an opportunity to provoke further, he continued, "Who's brave enough?"

"I'll do it."

A strange voice cut through the tension. All eyes turned to see the towering figure of Caggo striding forward. Standing over 1.9 meters tall, he was instantly recognized by everyone.

"Caggo!"

"It's Caggo! He's going to fight!"

Excitement rippled through the crowd. Caggo, known as the "Corpsekiller," was a legend among mercenaries. When they weren't fighting or talking about women, the mercenaries often debated who was the strongest in their ranks. To them, Caggo wasn't just the mightiest in the Windblown group—he was the strongest in the entire mercenary company!

Once, people might have compared him to the Tattered Prince, but as the prince aged, his undefeated reputation began to wane. Now, Caggo stood unchallenged.

Caggo approached Viserys, his massive frame blocking the sun, casting an imposing shadow over the mercenaries behind him. Those closest to him instinctively took a step back, feeling the weight of his presence.

Even Dick, who was usually unflappable, began to worry. Regis, always confident in Viserys, felt a twinge of fear.

Caggo unsheathed his curved blade and declared, "If you win, you can take my blade too!"

"Then let's do this," Viserys replied with a grin.

The two squared off, their weapons drawn. The air grew thick with tension, a palpable sense of impending violence that caused the onlookers to retreat further.

Caggo lunged first, his curved steel blade slicing downward with immense power. This was a move that had felled countless foes, the sharpness of the blade making flesh seem like butter. The Dothraki, who rarely wore armor on the Great Grass Sea, were especially vulnerable to such attacks. Caggo was nearly unstoppable—until he met his match.

When the sound of steel meeting steel rang out, it was a crisp, resonant note, like the lingering tone of a string instrument. Caggo was taken aback. He hadn't expected the boy before him to block his full-force strike so effortlessly. And yet, Viserys didn't even appear to be struggling.

The memory of a previous battle flashed through Caggo's mind, but he refused to believe a boy under seventeen could possess such strength.

What followed was a display of raw power, as Viserys and Caggo abandoned technique in favor of sheer force. They met each other head-on, blow for blow.

The relentless clash of steel echoed like a fierce musical composition.

"My gods! They're fighting with pure strength!"

"This Viserys can actually match Caggo!"

"This... is incredible!"

The mercenaries of the 7th Battalion, who had initially been skeptical of Viserys, now found their attitudes shifting from doubt to admiration. Especially Webber. He now realized just how much Viserys had held back when they fought. On the battlefield, Viserys could have killed him with a single blow. 'I'm no match for him,' Webber thought to himself, though he remained doubtful that even someone with such extraordinary martial prowess could turn the tide for the 7th Battalion. What they needed most now was to rebuild their morale.

As time passed, Caggo, who had been relying on brute strength to overpower Viserys, began to sense something was amiss. His energy was waning; he found himself needing to retreat and maneuver just to catch his breath.

Meanwhile, Viserys, who had already fought three rounds, remained composed and steady. When Caggo deliberately slowed the pace to regain his strength, Viserys didn't press the attack. Instead, he allowed Caggo to recover, clearly aiming to break his spirit completely.

After nearly five minutes of intense combat, it was evident to anyone watching that Caggo was running out of steam, while Viserys continued to breathe easily. Caggo felt like a gust of wind against Viserys, who was as immovable as the earth. No matter how fierce the storm, the earth remained unchanged. Caggo saw no path to victory.

'Is this guy a monster?' he thought, his confidence crumbling.

Sensing the moment was right, Viserys launched a fierce assault. Exhausted and off-balance, Caggo couldn't keep up. With a swift move, Viserys kicked Caggo's scimitar out of his grasp, leaving the mighty warrior defeated.

For a brief moment, the air seemed to freeze. The only sound was the metallic clatter of Caggo's scimitar hitting the ground. Everyone stared in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they tried to etch this moment into their memories. Some swallowed nervously, struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

Three rounds of battle, three consecutive victories. Viserys had not only defeated the last sergeant of the 7th Battalion but also bested two Gerrolds and now, Caggo, the undisputed strongest warrior in the Windblown.

Caggo stood frozen, staring blankly at the scimitar on the ground, as if he had lost his soul. Finally, Regis broke the silence, shouting Viserys' name: "Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

At first, Regis was the only one chanting, but soon Jorah joined in, albeit reluctantly. He hadn't realized that when someone is strong enough, old grudges cease to matter. One by one, others followed: Dick, Webber, and then more mercenaries from the 7th Battalion, until the entire crowd was chanting Viserys' name.

"Viserys! Viserys! Viserys!"

Seeing that the time was right, Viserys raised his hand to silence the crowd. He picked up Caggo's curved blade from the ground and, to everyone's shock, handed it back to him.

"Your curved blade," Viserys said.

Caggo reached for the blade instinctively, but then hesitated and shook his head. "No, that's your blade now."

'There's nothing free in this world, is there?' Viserys thought to himself before replying, "Then I'll lend it to you." He turned to the others and declared, "This curved blade is now on loan to Caggo—for a thousand years!"

Lending a weapon for a thousand years was no different from giving it away. Dick realized that Viserys was deliberately extending a hand of friendship to Caggo, a gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Caggo reached out to take hold of the familiar blade, but after a moment's struggle, he let go. He wasn't one to accept a favor without offering something in return, and he knew Viserys still intended to reclaim the scimitar eventually.

Seeing Caggo's hesitation, Viserys added, "Of course, I'm not lending you this scimitar for free. In the future, you must promise to do me a favor when I ask."

In the end, Caggo couldn't bear to part with his scimitar. He took it from Viserys' hand and, without hesitation, cut a three-to-four-inch wound across his own face.

"By the horse god, I will help you with whatever you ask of me!" Caggo swore.

Viserys glanced at the dense scars covering Caggo's face, knowing each one marked a debt. Now, there was no doubt left about Viserys' strength.

Within just two hours, the mercenaries of the 7th Battalion began to accept their new sergeant. Not long after Caggo and the others had left, the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat filled the air—it was time for dinner.

The mercenaries were astonished. Their recent defeats had left them with significant equipment losses, forcing them to save every coin to replace weapons and gear. This frugality had extended to their meals, with many going without proper food for weeks, a harsh reality for soldiers who trained daily.

Now, as large barrels of lamb and venison were brought in, their mouths watered at the unexpected feast. After asserting his authority, Viserys knew he needed to reward the men. He planned to retrain the mercenaries, and to do so, their morale and strength had to be restored—starting with better food.

'Incentives and discipline,' Viserys thought, 'that's how you win loyalty.'

As the mercenaries gathered around, Viserys addressed them with a firm promise. "From now on, you'll have meat every three days," he declared, "but understand this—I'm going to train you hard for the next three months. If you want to leave, do so now and join another camp. But if you desert during my training, you'll be treated as deserters!"

The mention of desertion sent a shiver through the ranks. In the Windblown, deserters were handed over to Meris, the infamous interrogator, who was known to torture men for a month before they finally died. But still, the men reasoned, this was just training. How hard could it be? And besides, the promise of regular meals was something most camps couldn't offer.

As the mercenaries lined up for their meals, Viserys decided to convene a meeting later that night. He picked up a lamb chop and pondered what he would say.

Viserys watched as the men devoured their food, some nearly choking in their haste. Despite their hunger, they didn't forget to whisper about his identity, speculating as they ate.

After about half an hour, once the men had nearly finished their meals, Viserys stood and walked to the front of the group. He turned to Webber first.

"Lord Webber, you're from Coldmoat, aren't you? What brings you to the Free Cities?"

Webber replied with a flat tone, "Expelled by my House."

Viserys then addressed a red-haired Westerosi mercenary. "And you?"

"I committed a crime. I stole from my Lord," the man admitted.

Viserys pointed to another Westerosi mercenary with yellow hair. "What about you?"

"My father doesn't like me," the man replied.

Viserys continued to question the group. Many had not come to the Free Cities by choice, and even those who had, confessed that they missed their homeland dearly.

"Do you know why I came to Westeros?" Viserys asked.

"Because of the usurper!" shouted a mercenary who had the look of someone from Dorne.

"Yes, because of the usurper," Viserys confirmed. "I hope to return to Westeros one day."

But as soon as Viserys spoke those words, many of the mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances. The idea seemed far-fetched, almost laughable—if not for the display of strength Viserys had shown earlier, some might have mocked him openly.

"I know you don't believe I can reclaim the throne," Viserys continued, his tone firm. "But understand this: for most of you, the only way you'll ever return to Westeros is if I retake the Iron Throne! If you have no land, I can grant you land. If you lack titles, I can bestow them upon you."

Viserys began to paint a vivid picture of the future, a vision where each of them could return home adorned in finery. A few mercenaries allowed themselves to dream, their faces reflecting a flicker of hope. But most remained skeptical, aware of the immense challenges that lay ahead.

"Listen," Viserys said, his voice commanding their attention, "I know many of you doubt me, and I won't repeat myself." He glanced at Jorah, who nodded and motioned for three covered carts to be brought forward.

When the canvas was pulled back, the mercenaries gasped as cold, gleaming swords and spears were revealed, their brilliance momentarily blinding the crowd.

"These weapons are for you to use," Viserys announced. "And soon, I will acquire armor, which will be distributed based on your training. From now on, every member of the 7th Battalion will have armor to wear!"

At the mention of armor, every mercenary's eyes lit up. The difference in pay between those with armor and those without could be as much as fivefold. Heavy cavalry mercenaries earned ten times more than their unarmored counterparts.

It dawned on them that they had finally found a sergeant major who would take care of their needs—from weapons to food to a brighter future.

But then Viserys offered an even greater incentive. "From now on, for every period you serve in the 7th Battalion, I will deposit a sum of money in the Iron Bank for you. This money will be there to support you if you're injured or when you're old. If you die in battle, it will go to your family. If you have no family, I will ensure you receive a grand funeral!"

For mercenaries, who lived for the moment and rarely thought of the future, this was a game-changer. Typically, they squandered their earnings in brothels and gambling dens, believing they had nothing to save for. But Viserys had just offered them something they never expected—a sense of security, a reason to stay loyal to the 7th Battalion.

Where once they had thought about leaving the 7th Battalion for better opportunities, now they found themselves wondering how they could ensure they stayed.

Webber, the former sergeant, was particularly impressed. 'Viserys not only has strength but also financial power. I can't compete with that.'

"Long live Viserys!" a red-haired mercenary suddenly shouted, breaking the silence. Regis, taken aback by someone else taking the lead, quickly joined in, unwilling to be outdone.

"Long live Viserys!" Regis echoed.

"Long live Viserys!" Webber shouted.

Soon, the entire camp was chanting, "Long live Viserys! Long live Viserys!" The sound grew louder, spilling out into the neighboring battalions, turning heads in curiosity.

But three months later...

"Viserys, that son of a bitch!"

Chapter 102: Doubts at the Pirate Gathering

Three months passed swiftly.

During this time, the Seventh Battalion underwent a complete transformation. Word of the battalion's improved conditions spread, attracting auxiliary soldiers and mercenaries whose contracts were nearing expiration. As a result, the battalion's numbers swelled from just over 70 to more than 120. Viserys had warned them that the training would be grueling, but they hadn't anticipated just how tough it would be. Swordsmanship and physical fitness were expected, but why did they have to train in formation? Why practice standing at attention or tidying up the barracks? And folding blankets before battle—was this really necessary? Was it just?

The mercenaries of the Seventh Battalion weren't the only ones baffled. Even the other battalion sergeants were skeptical of Viserys's methods. They doubted his ability as a drill sergeant and believed the soldiers stayed only because the battalion's benefits were exceptionally good.

Some soldiers considered quitting during those three months, but thoughts of Meris's harsh discipline and the loss of their new privileges kept them in line. Over time, they grew accustomed to the routine. What's more, Viserys not only provided the promised benefits but delivered them ahead of schedule.

In just one month, he produced 50 suits of armor. Though plain, no one was eager to part with them. Two months later, he produced another 100 suits—these were slightly worn, but with some repairs, they were perfectly serviceable. After all, these armors could mean the difference between life and death.

Despite their complaints, the soldiers grumbled only in private. Moreover, Viserys now had a few diehard supporters within the Seventh Battalion. If anyone dared criticize him publicly, they were quick to silence the dissenters.

Viserys's strict training regimen had a purpose. He didn't want a ragtag group of fighters; he wanted a disciplined, cohesive army. The results were impressive enough that even the Tattered Prince, the old commander, voiced his approval, declaring the Seventh Battalion a real army.

But despite the progress, Viserys wasn't satisfied. His goal was to build a mercenary force of a thousand before his dragon hatched. However, he knew this was no easy task.

Take Bittersteel Aegor and the Tattered Prince, for example. Both had spent years in other mercenary groups before gathering a loyal band of their own to "start a business." Viserys didn't have "several years." He recalled that Dany was around 12 or 13 when the events of Game of Thrones began, likely just after her first period. By his estimation, there were less than two years left before the story officially started.

This looming deadline weighed heavily on Viserys. If he were forced to spend years building his mercenary group, he'd never manage to find another dragon egg, let alone form his army. His decision to come to the Disputed Lands was driven by the knowledge that war would soon break out between Tyrosh and Lys. But for now, the two sides remained in a tense standoff.

Littlefinger's words echoed in his mind—'chaos is a ladder.' Viserys hoped Tyrosh and Lys would clash. However, Lys had fortified its position against Tyrosh with it's stronghold and the support of pirates who secretly allied with them. While skirmishes were frequent, no major conflict had erupted. Tyrosh was too preoccupied with the pirates of Lys in the Stepstones to launch an offensive on the region, where it's stronghold lay.

In other words, if a large-scale conflict was to erupt, the pirates would need to be eliminated. But that was easier said than done. If Tyrosh could have wiped them out, it would have done so long ago. These pirates were formidable.

If wiping out the pirates was impossible, there was another option: decapitation. If the pirate leaders were taken out, the threat could be neutralized. And recently, an opportunity had presented itself—a "pirate gathering," as Baland, the pirate who had once pursued Viserys, had mentioned.

According to Baland, pirates from across the world were converging on the Orange Shore. For the past three months, Viserys had been using the Golden Eagle to scout the area. Since becoming a Soul Binder, his telepathic connection with his animal partner had increased exponentially.

Previously, in Braavos, he could only control a seagull to circle the city. But after linking his soul with the golden eagle, their range had become nearly limitless. He had even managed to guide the eagle as far as the vicinity of Dorne.

However, something strange happened when the golden eagle crossed into Dorne, part of Westeros. The link between them weakened, and the images became blurry. Viserys redirected the eagle to explore the area where Baland had indicated the pirates might gather.

The Orange Shore lay between the Disputed Lands and the Rhoyne River Valley. The former was contested by the Free Cities of Tyrosh, Volantis, and Lys, while the latter was Volantis's domain. This made the Orange Shore a no man's land, free of any jurisdiction.

Viserys controlled the golden eagle as it hovered over the Orange Shore for nearly two months. He observed a large number of pirate ships converging in several areas, including two islands, an abandoned port, and a hidden cove. One location, Orange Shore Bay, stood out as particularly suspicious.

Using the Moon's Revelation, Viserys divined these places one by one. The first few were shrouded in darkness, but Orange Shore Bay glowed with light in the darkness. He concluded that this must be the pirates' meeting and trading place. These pirates, who plundered across the world, gathered regularly to share their spoils. Viserys estimated that if he could strike a decisive blow here, he could accomplish in one night what the old captain had done in twenty years. Additionally, it might catalyze a war between Tyrosh and Lys, allowing him to benefit from the chaos.

But the task would be incredibly challenging. The pirates' trading post was deep within the bay, and by the time of the gathering, pirates from across the world would be there. Over a thousand ships would be scattered along the Orange Coast. Leading a large army would only alert them, and bringing too few would be a suicide mission.

However, Viserys's goal wasn't to eliminate all the pirates. According to Baland, most of the pirates would remain outside the bay to "guard the door," while only their leaders and representatives—numbering between 200 and 300—would enter the deeper bay to trade.

The only viable strategy was to carry out a "decapitation operation" targeting these leaders. But these pirates were seasoned veterans of the sea, not to be underestimated. Even if they weren't skilled fighters themselves, they would have capable warriors at their side. Entering the bay with more than 50 men would raise suspicion, but fewer would mean facing a tough battle with no room for error. Success depended on eliminating the leaders swiftly, or the entire plan would fail.

In his previous life, a single rocket could have handled the situation. But in this world, that was out of the question. Now, he needed a strong, reliable group of fighters, possibly the best from the entire mercenary company.

Viserys still hadn't figured out how to kill hundreds of pirates in a short span of time. Moreover, he needed permission from the Tattered Prince to undertake such a mission. As a sellsword, he couldn't act independently. Although he had discovered a loophole in the contract that might allow him some leeway, there was little point in obsessing over how to deal with the pirates just yet.

Feeling uncertain, Viserys decided to visit Meris and Dany, as he often did. For the past three months, he had been diligently collecting Assignable Points, and now, after his time away from Braavos, he had amassed a hundred of them. After maxing out all his attributes, he still had nearly a hundred points left.

Constitution: 100

Health: 100

Spirit: 100

Magic: 100

Assignable General Attribute Points: 112

Viserys felt in peak condition, brimming with energy every day. Yet, he was unsure how to use the extra points. He had hoped that reaching 100 in Constitution would trigger some kind of breakthrough, but nothing significant had happened. Although he felt stronger, there was no sense of having "evolved." It seemed that to surpass the 100-point limit, he would need to wait for a shift in the world's magical environment—like the coming tide of magic. As he pondered this, an owl appeared before him, interrupting his thoughts.

Chapter 103: Decapitation

"Are you here to give me my acceptance letter?"

The owl tilted its head inquisitively, its eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Perhaps it was due to the siblings' shared aura, but Dany's owl was also particularly affectionate with Viserys.

"Brother!" Dany called out warmly.

She had grown considerably over the past three months. A small satchel, designed by Viserys, hung over her back, and her hair was neatly tied in a bun.

"My lord," Kyla greeted as she followed closely behind.

During this time, Dany had been learning interrogation techniques from Meris, a skilled interrogator whose expertise extended far beyond physical torture to psychological methods. However, since Dany was still in her teens and Hogwarts hadn't accepted her, Viserys refrained from teaching her any physical interrogation techniques. Instead, she continued to focus on swordsmanship and general education. Viserys believed that one day Dany would assist him in ruling, and understanding psychological tactics could help her "govern the people." Physical torture, on the other hand, was harmful not just for a child, but for any person in the long run.

Dany smiled as she approached Viserys. "How have you been practicing soul binding?"

After upgrading his warging abilities to soul binding, Viserys had encouraged her to make the switch as well. In the process, he had become a rather demanding teacher.

"Not very well," Dany admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"Let me see."

Dany's expression turned blank as her violet pupils began to roll back. Unlike warging, soul binding still allowed her some control over her body.

"Brother, look."

As the screech owl flew around her, Dany managed to speak. After about three minutes, she broke the soul binding.

"Not bad, worth encouraging," Viserys remarked. In his eyes, Dany was progressing well—especially considering she hadn't taken any shortcuts. Her modest assessment of her skills stemmed from comparing herself to Viserys.

The two of them chatted while sitting on the bed. Thanks to Viserys's reputation, Dany had gained considerable freedom within the barracks. Not only Viserys, but also the old captain and his friend Denzo enjoyed conversing with her whenever she visited. With such a powerful "background," no one dared to harbor any improper thoughts.

"Viserys, we should go to the meeting," Dick and Meris announced as they entered the tent.

"Alright," Viserys replied, turning to Dany. "I'll go first."

"Okay," Dany said, reluctant to see him leave. Since joining the Windblown, their time together had diminished.

After leaving the tent, Viserys and Meris discussed the recent attack on Shield Lake. Thankfully, Baqq's caution had prevented any major casualties.

"Damn those pirates!" Dick cursed.

Viserys had analyzed the situation. Lys maintained a strategic balance between the two lakes and Tyrosh by relying on pirate intelligence. If they could find a way to eliminate these pirates, Tyrosh would gain an advantage over Shield Lake and launch a coastal attack. Once Tyrosh controlled the Disputed Lands, it would likely aim to control the Stepstones, thereby dominating the passage from the Summer Sea to the Narrow Sea. This could elevate Tyrosh's status, allowing it to compete with Braavos.

However, this hinged on the elimination of the pirates, whose main base was not the Disputed Lands but the Rhoyne River Basin—territory controlled by Volantis. Even Volantis, the acknowledged strongest, had failed to deal with these pirates. Tyrosh would face the same challenge.

This time, the Tattered Prince had called a meeting to discuss how to reduce or prevent pirate harassment. Would they need to send more troops or take other measures?

When the two arrived at the main tent, they found it already filled with people. Upon seeing Viserys, several of them greeted him.

"Lord Viserys."

"Gerrold, you look pale. Take care of yourself."

"Lord Viserys."

"Ah, I hear you've visited the Lust Garden three times this month. Better hold off until your next paycheck."

Viserys had become more approachable to many within the camp. First, he had demonstrated his strength on the very first day. Second, the 7th Battalion had flourished under his command. However, some still harbored doubts, as he had yet to prove himself in battle. As a sergeant major, it wasn't enough just to fight; he had to lead others effectively in combat. If his abilities ended there, he wouldn't be considered a truly capable sergeant major.

Not long after, the Tattered Prince entered the tent, accompanied by Denzo and Caggo. After their last encounter, Caggo seemed to regard Viserys with more respect—or at least, that's what Viserys perceived.

The old captain took his seat as usual, then surveyed the room, cleared his throat, and began the meeting. To Viserys's surprise, the Tattered Prince addressed him first.

"Viserys."

"Lord Captain," Viserys responded, standing.

"The rebuilding of the 7th Battalion appears to be complete. I'll allocate the additional manpower shortly."

"Thank you, Commander."

The old captain was clearly pleased with Viserys's work. Although he didn't fully understand some of Viserys's training methods, he was considering adopting a few of them—such as the "insurance system" Viserys had introduced. However, after weighing the costs, the old commander decided against it. In his view, the 7th Battalion could afford these benefits because it was relatively small and because Viserys had the funds. Additionally, the 7th Battalion consisted largely of Westerosi, many of whom were driven by the hope of "fighting back," creating a unity that other battalions lacked. So, for now, the commander put aside the idea.

After briefly discussing the 7th Battalion, the meeting shifted to its main topic.

"I'm considering sending another battalion to Shield Lake. Who is willing to go?"

The captain had no better solution to the ongoing pirate raids and was reluctant to send more troops unless necessary. Sellswords were primarily in it for profit, and deploying more men increased costs significantly. The expenses of maintaining an army at home were not the same as those incurred by sending it out, and actual combat operations further escalated the costs.

"Captain, I'll go," Dick said, sitting next to Viserys.

As the old captain prepared to respond, Viserys signaled his desire to speak.

"You may go ahead," the captain allowed.

"Captain, I've heard that the pirates gather annually to trade their stolen goods. Could we organize a small force to carry out a 'decapitation operation' against them?"

As expected, no sooner had Viserys finished speaking than someone sneered at the suggestion.

Chapter 104: With a Brain Like That, Thank the Gods He’s a Windblown

As soon as Viserys finished speaking, a few sneers rippled through the crowd.

"Lord Viserys, if the Iron Bank is so wealthy, why don't we just rob them instead of playing mercenaries?"

The remark came from Darsent, who had recently dyed his hair blue again. His sarcastic suggestion was met with laughter from around the tent. The laughter wasn't just from those who doubted Viserys's strength, but also from those who found the comparison amusing.

Viserys chose not to respond, opting to ignore the taunt.

At that moment, Dick, seated beside him, spoke up:

"Viserys, here's the reality. We all know about the so-called pirate gatherings. But to carry out a 'decapitation operation,' we'd first need to pinpoint their exact location. Secondly, these gatherings attract pirates from all over—The Summer Sea, the Narrow Sea, the Iron Islands..."

Dick was implying that not only was it difficult to locate the pirates, but they were also heavily guarded. Breaking through their defenses would be nearly impossible without a full-scale naval assault. Furthermore, pirate leaders aren't pushovers; they're well-protected by bodyguards who are just as formidable.

'If we bring too many people, we risk being detected before we can even strike. Too few, and we'd be walking into a death trap.'

What Dick described aligned closely with what Viserys had anticipated.

"And they prefer to hold their transactions in caves—natural fortresses that are difficult to assault," Dick added.

"Why caves?" Viserys asked, sensing he had uncovered a critical detail.

"I heard they once had an incident where one pirate tried to steal from another. The limited space of a cave offers both protection and an emergency stronghold."

"Thank you for the insight, Lord Dick," Viserys said, smiling as he sat down.

Many in the tent dismissed his proposal as a brief diversion, assuming he would abandon the idea after hearing Dick's explanation. However, Viserys had seized upon a crucial piece of information—caves! Caves, by their very nature, had poor ventilation.

If he could find a way to smoke or suffocate the pirates inside, he wouldn't need a large force. And given that pirates likely didn't have access to "gas masks," the plan seemed even more viable.

Sellswords didn't adhere to any international conventions—they used whatever methods were at their disposal. Poisoning, after all, was just another tool in their arsenal.

After the meeting, Viserys began to experiment.

A few days later, he took Regis and Jorah to a remote, uninhabited area—a windswept slope with sparse vegetation, the landscape bare and desolate. Following Viserys's instructions, they set up a small tent and placed some rabbits and pheasants inside. The rabbits were silent, but the pheasants kept clucking incessantly, filling the tent with noise.

At the tent's entrance, they set up a clay pot and lit a fire beneath it.

"Go!"

As the liquid in the clay pot began to boil, Viserys instructed Jorah to add a pinch of salt. Neither of them understood what was happening, but soon something magical occurred. Yellow-green gas began to rise from the pot.

"Fan the fire! Harder!"

Jorah and Regis grabbed large fans, working furiously to blow the gas into the tent.

"Harder! Harder! Be careful not to breathe it in! It will kill you!"

With these words, they redoubled their efforts, fanning the fire with even greater urgency. Suddenly, they noticed the pheasants and rabbits in the tent had fallen eerily silent.

After a few tense minutes, not a sound could be heard from inside.

Jorah and Regis immediately realized the truth—the yellow-green smoke was poisonous. But how had Viserys known? A chill ran down Jorah's spine as he regretted ever considering assassinating Viserys. He couldn't fathom the consequences if he had actually tried.

He shuddered to think of another scenario: if he succeeded in killing Daenerys but Viserys escaped, the wrath Viserys would unleash on Bear Island would be devastating. Jorah had no doubt now—Viserys had the power to turn Bear Island into a barren wasteland.

He glanced back at Viserys, who stood behind them, watching the tent with cold, unfeeling eyes, as if this were a trivial matter.

"Stop!"

After a while, the reaction between the hydrochloric acid and salt in the clay pot subsided, and the three of them opened the tent. Inside, the rabbits and pheasants lay motionless.

The horrific scene sent a shiver down Jorah and Regis's spines. Blood oozed from the mouths and noses of the caged animals. The rabbits, in particular, had their pale red eyes turned scarlet, their limbs stiff and twisted in the throes of their final struggle. Hairs and bloodstains clung to their bodies and the cage, evidence of the agony inflicted by the poisonous smoke.

This deadly gas, capable of killing chickens and rabbits, could easily take human lives as well. On a battlefield, soldiers wouldn't need to face an enemy charge; they would succumb to the smoke before they had a chance to fight.

Smoke—an invisible killer that armor could not defend against. Jorah and Regis were relieved to be Viserys's men and not his enemies. As long as they remained loyal, they would be safe from this deadly weapon.

However, what they didn't know was that Viserys's crude methods produced only a low concentration of hydrochloric acid, weakening the potency of the chlorine gas. In an open area like the plains, its lethality would be limited. The gas was most effective in confined spaces, where it could linger and concentrate.

Viserys's technical limitations meant he couldn't create true "poison gas bombs" that could be deployed at a distance, further restricting the weapon's effectiveness. When he learned from Dick that the pirates had chosen a "safe" cave fortress for their meeting, Viserys saw an opportunity. He wouldn't need a large force; he just needed to infiltrate the cave and release the poison.

"Good, it worked. Let's go back and prepare more," Viserys said, instructing Jorah to stay behind and clean up while he left with Regis.

On the way back, Regis looked at Viserys with newfound awe. Once they returned, Viserys immediately began mass-producing the gas, estimating that the pirates' caves were sizable and filled with people. To ensure the gas's effectiveness, he prepared nearly 200 more containers of concentrated hydrochloric acid.

With this deadly weapon in hand, Viserys confirmed the pirates' location and decided to speak with the old captain. This was a prime opportunity for a lucrative hunt. Beyond the treasures the pirates might have, their heads alone were worth a fortune. Volantis offered generous bounties for notorious pirates, and if Viserys succeeded, he stood to make a considerable profit.

Chapter 105: Sellswords Can Hire Sellswords

Now, the Prince of Tatters was beginning to suspect that Viserys had indeed chosen the Windblown because of a grudge against the Golden Company. This young man was proving to be more relentless than he had anticipated.

Just the other day, Dick had clearly outlined the risks of the so-called "Decapitation Operation." Yet, it seemed Viserys was not ready to abandon the idea.

"Lord Viserys, your current task is to integrate the personnel of the 7th Battalion. If you truly wish to fight, I will arrange it for you once the training is complete," the Tattered Prince said.

But Viserys was unwilling to let this opportunity slip away. The wealth plundered by pirates from across the world was converging in one place—a treasure trove that would be impossible to find elsewhere. Waiting for the old captain's approval could take years, and by then, the War for the Stepstones would have already begun. Delaying action was not an option. If he couldn't amass the power necessary to protect his dragon's growth, the future might hold nothing but tragedy.

So, he pressed on. "Lord Commander, if we can successfully decapitate this group of pirates, Shield Lake will be secure for at least two years. This will accelerate the war's progress, allowing Tyrosh to attack Lys from two fronts, giving us the initiative."

The Tattered Prince's face darkened as Viserys continued his argument. The shadows under his eyes deepened, their color turning almost black. "Lord Viserys, I believe your role is that of a commander, not a general. This is not your concern."

Despite agreeing with Viserys's reasoning and understanding the strategic advantage of securing Shield Lake, the Tattered Prince was unwilling to risk his men on such a dangerous mission.

Seeing that the old captain remained unconvinced, Viserys glanced at Denzo, who stood beside him, composed and silent. Denzo, known as the "warrior poet," was about fifty years old and the second oldest in the Windblown.

"Well, if you won't agree, I'll have to play my trump card," Viserys said, leaning back in his chair. His tone shifted from one of pleading to negotiation. "Captain, let's set the plan aside for now. I want to discuss a business proposition with you."

"A business proposition?" The old captain looked surprised, and Denzo's eyes widened in shock. The captain hadn't anticipated this—he had studied the contract thoroughly, but there was a loophole. The contract never stated that sellswords couldn't hire themselves, largely because most sellswords had no savings. They joined to make money, not to spend it.

Viserys, by hiring himself as an employer, had found a way to bypass the contract's restrictions. Given the Windblown's dire financial straits, the offer Viserys made was one the old captain couldn't refuse. Reluctantly, he called a meeting.

"Everyone, we have a new job. It's risky, but the profit is substantial," the Tattered Prince announced.

"Captain, what's the job?" asked Darsent, who had recently dyed his hair back to its original color.

"Master Viserys," the Tattered Prince replied, gesturing toward Viserys. The others were puzzled. The old captain never addressed his men as "Master"—that was a title reserved for employers. When had Viserys become the employer of the Windblown?

Viserys slowly rose and turned to face the others. "Gentlemen, I am honored to be your employer for this operation. The target is the pirates."

"What? Employer? Can a sellsword hire another sellsword?"

"Isn't he one of us? Why is he hiring others?"

"What's going on? Is he the employer?"

"Employer…?"

Viserys continued, "I have already negotiated a price with our captain. This operation will be billed per head. The difference is, payment will be based not on equipment, but on strength. Those who can withstand ten moves against me will earn 300 gold dragons, 400 gold dragons for twenty moves, and 500 gold dragons for thirty moves. I only need fifty men."

Viserys's offer was equivalent to half a year's pay for many of them. For some of the ordinary mercenaries, it was more than they might earn in two or three years.

At this point, Darsent realized that Viserys not only possessed formidable strength but also had the means to back it up financially. Cautiously, he asked, "What if someone can last forty moves?"

"Do you think you can take forty moves from me?" Viserys replied with a smirk.

The room erupted in laughter. Everyone knew that even Caggo, one of their best, had struggled to withstand fifty moves against Viserys, and it was clear to all who witnessed that bout that Viserys had been holding back.

"I'm in. I've got seven or eight strong fighters in my battalion," Caggo said, seated next to the old battalion commander. "I promised Viserys I'd do something for him. No matter how dangerous this 'decapitation operation' might be, there's no reason to refuse."

"Excellent. I trust the men you choose. I'll count 400 gold dragons for each of you," Viserys responded.

"We'll go too," the two Gerrolds chimed in, signaling their readiness.

"Perfect! Welcome aboard. You'll get 400 gold dragons each as well!"

"Pfft, I'm not going. It's a suicide mission," Darsent muttered under his breath.

But before anyone else could volunteer, the old captain spoke up, "That's enough. Four sergeants at once is sufficient. No more sergeants!"

Despite the enticing offer, the old captain had to weigh the potential fallout of a failed mission. Losing too many sergeants would cripple the Windblown's command structure, and the loss of Viserys's elite fighters would be incalculable. The mercenary group might be rendered ineffective for years. Initially, the captain hadn't expected many to take up such a risky mission, but the response had exceeded his expectations.

In truth, if the Windblown weren't facing financial difficulties, the captain might have rejected Viserys's proposition altogether. He still didn't realize that his financial officer was embezzling funds, but Viserys planned to inform him once they returned from Orange Shore Bay.

In the end, Viserys selected 45 men for the mission. He also needed additional support, so he recruited about a hundred average-strength mercenaries from the Windblown. Since their task was relatively safer, each of them was paid only 100 gold dragons—a sum that amounted to two years' wages for most. Viserys poured nearly 40,000 gold dragons into this operation, with payment secured through IOUs, as most of his funds were tied up in the Iron Bank. He wrote to Hugh, the Windblown's financial officer, instructing him to retrieve the money from Braavos.

A significant portion of Viserys's compensation was a "risk fee," acknowledging the dangerous nature of the mission. After all, sellswords joined for the promise of wealth, not death. Yet, some debt-ridden gamblers among them saw this as a chance to strike it rich and escape their troubles. Even Viserys's 7th Battalion grew uneasy upon learning of the mission, prompting him to expand the recruitment to the entire Windblown.

Once the men were assembled, Viserys began intensive preparations. To approach the pirates unnoticed, they chose to use the longship of the former Iron Hook Pirates and changed their attire to blend in.

Of course, Dany couldn't remain unaware of Viserys's plans. When she learned of his intentions, she confronted him.

Viserys, determined to keep her out of harm's way, refused her outright. But Dany wasn't easily dissuaded. "I know you warged a golden eagle a while ago, but it's useless at night. My horned owl, however, can see in the dark. I'll be outside to support you. Let it go with you," she pleaded, clasping her hands together and looking up at him with an expression so earnest that Viserys couldn't bring himself to refuse.

Chapter 106: Euron’s Silence

Before making a decision, Viserys naturally consulted the Moon's Revelation. To his surprise, the moon in his spirit was large and bright, with a few shadows that didn't significantly alter the overall image.

This indicated that the operation might be risky, but would likely result in minimal casualties. Concerned for his sister, Viserys also consulted the Moon's Revelation for Dany. Although the moon in his vision remained bright, he still chose to bring her along.

Given the late hour, Viserys decided to take a shortcut through the Lys Strait to save time. Initially, many opposed the idea. Windblown and Lys were still at war, and being caught by either pirates or sellswords would mean severe punishment. However, Viserys insisted, and eventually, everyone agreed. Of course, their agreement was swayed by Viserys's promise to pay for their release if they were captured.

In the cabin, Viserys briefed the "special forces" he had assembled, using a hand-drawn map to explain his plan. "According to the information I've gathered, the pirates will gather in Orange Shore Bay." He pointed to a red circle on the map. "Orange Shore Bay is narrow, and 50 longships could block it, but this time, there will be no fewer than 700 pirate ships!" This number was unexpected, but the promised reward left them with little choice but to accept it.

"I'll leave 100 men on the ship to provide support. The rest of you will follow me into Orange Shore Bay."

"How are we supposed to sneak in?" asked Gerrold, a black man with a stern gaze.

"That's why I'm paying you so well. But don't worry, my strategy isn't to attack head-on. We have an informant to guide us." Hearing this, the group felt more at ease. In truth, Viserys's informant was Dany. With the help of the owl, they would avoid the enemy's guard posts, just as they had evaded Lys's patrol boats in the strait. Of course, unforeseen situations could arise, and in those moments, they would have to resort to assassination.

"What about the pirates in the cave? We won't be able to take them down quickly," another man, Redback Gerrold, asked.

"My jars are for them. I'll make sure the pirates die quietly." 'Killing hundreds of men silently?' Though many were still skeptical, they couldn't help but feel a shiver when they saw the cold, cruel curve of Viserys's smile.

Given the high risk of this mission, Viserys had kept his trump card secret to minimize exposure. But now that they were all in the same boat, he briefly explained his plan.

After nearly a week of sailing, the group finally arrived in the Orange Coast area. From the vantage point of the golden eagle, Viserys could clearly see that the traffic of pirate ships was thinning out. Pressing onward, he soon reached Orange Shore Bay. Hundreds of pirate ships crowded the bay, forming an almost unbroken wall of vessels. A narrow passage was left in the middle of this "ship wall" for additional ships to pass through. Once they did, they would join the wall, making it even thicker.

Perched on the mast, Viserys surveyed the scene. There were at least 300 pirate ships, their masts clustered together. Judging by the size and the patterns on their hulls, some of these ships belonged to powerful pirate captains—pirate magnates even. These large vessels, equipped with shark-head-shaped metal rams, looked imposing and formidable. Viserys thought it would be easy for their own ships to pass the first line of defense. The passages in the ship wall seemed deliberately left open, with no one bothering to check who was passing through. After all, anyone who had made it this far was assumed to be a "senior pirate," and even if someone managed to slip in by mistake, what could a single ship do against hundreds?

Viserys directed the golden eagle further into the bay. There were no islands, but several large ships were cruising around, likely forming the second line of defense for the gathering, providing early warning of any danger. He continued to the end of the bay, where a sheer cliff rose above a small rocky island jutting out from its base. Pirates had already prepared the island, sending up food, wine, and candles bit by bit.

From the golden eagle's perspective, Viserys could see the entire island. Due to the cliff, the island had little vegetation and appeared barren, with only some moss clinging to the rocks near the shore. There were three docking points on the island, and pirates seemed to be constructing something resembling a guard post. Just as Viserys was about to land and take a closer look, a dark shadow flashed past him. 'Damn, they're too cautious—even a footman is on guard?' Viserys thought with some frustration and decided to wait before trying again.

At this time, a pirate ship with black sails and a dark red hull was also approaching Orange Shore Bay. The black sail was emblazoned with an eight-legged sea monster, and the prow was adorned with a black iron maiden statue. The statue depicted a slender woman with a high chest, her arm outstretched as if calling for help or struggling. Upon closer inspection, her eyes were inlaid with pearls, and she had no mouth. This ship was Silence, belonging to Euron Greyjoy.

Euron, with his black hair and beard, blue lips, and eye patch, stood on deck, gazing into the distance. He extended his hand, and a servant promptly handed him a goblet. But instead of wine, it contained a blue liquid—poison. Euron sighed, and the servant beside him immediately knelt, trembling. Realizing that Euron's sigh wasn't directed at him, the servant relaxed slightly. Euron handed back the goblet and said, "Go and make me another one." The servant bowed deeply, taking the goblet without uttering a word.

Onboard Silence, only Euron had a tongue; everyone else was mute because he had torn out their tongues. This was why the ship was named Silence. Euron had come to the gathering to see if there were any valuable spoils to be had, but most importantly, he was hoping to recruit some new crew members.

Chapter 107: Unwilling to Enter Without Dragon Eggs

In the evening, the golden-red clouds and mists spread across the sky like a beautiful brocade. Viserys and his men had already spotted the dark "ship wall" in the distance. The masts stood like skeletons in a row, casting an ominous and chaotic atmosphere. One could sense the danger, knowing that behind each of these ships were dozens, if not hundreds, of lives. It wasn't an exaggeration to call them "fierce ships."

From time to time, the raucous noise of pirates echoed from the vessels, mixed faintly with the voices of women. This was the first time anyone had seen so many pirate ships gathered together. Although the Sellswords were not necessarily honorable, the decision to venture into a den of thieves sent a chill through the group. Jorah, in particular, who had been involved in the slave trade on the continent of Essos for years, had never faced such a perilous situation. He couldn't shake the feeling that a sudden arrow could be loosed from any direction, turning them into pincushions in an instant.

He glanced over at Viserys, muttering under his breath, "Madness, pure madness!" A pang of regret hit him—he should never have gotten entangled in royal family conflicts. But whether he liked it or not, he was here.

The men steered their ships into a gap in the ship wall, mooring them, and leaving a hundred men behind as reinforcements. Dany and Kyla would remain here as well. Dany would accompany Viserys on her owl, and once they succeeded, she would signal the others to seize the ships. The plan was to then take one of the outer vessels and make their escape.

Viserys and Caggo led their groups in small boats toward the island. They had already identified the cave where the pirates gathered, complete with a ventilation hole, though it was unfortunately guarded. To eliminate the guards silently, Viserys had brought several crossbows. Dany's owl perched on his shoulder, while Viserys' golden eagle circled overhead.

They hadn't sailed far when a speedboat approached. A pirate, wearing a blue turban and holding a lantern, shouted at Viserys and his group, "Inspection!"

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what was about to happen. The pirate jumped onto their boat, barking, "Stand up, no crossbows allowed!" Tension spiked among the group. Bringing crossbows hidden in concentrated hydrochloric acid tanks was a common tactic for sneaking in!

As more pirates boarded, Caggo's hand drifted toward his waist, ready for combat at any moment. Jorah eyed them warily, while the mercenaries aboard felt the tension rising, their minds racing as they prepared to draw their swords and fight if necessary.

At that moment, Viserys stood up, his impatience evident as he snapped, "What are you doing? This isn't my first time at a gathering like this. Do you even know who I am?!" The pirate, unimpressed by Viserys' bravado, sneered contemptuously. "If you don't cooperate, get out of here!"

Viserys refused to back down, his anger flaring. "Say that again!" he challenged. Seeing trouble brewing, several pirates on board drew their weapons, while those on the speedboat bent their bows, arrows ready to fly. The message was clear: any wrong move, and they would be riddled with arrows. The mercenaries on Viserys' ship reached for their own weapons, prepared to fight to the death if necessary. The owl on Viserys' shoulder spread its wings protectively, but in doing so, it blocked his view.

"I'll say it again," the pirate in the blue turban growled, unflinching. "You either let us check or get out of here. And if you dare to resist, I'll shoot you dead."

"Fine, shoot me," Viserys retorted, shoving the owl aside. With a swift motion, he pulled the claymore sword from his back and tossed it into the pirate's hands. The pirate inspected the weapon, momentarily surprised to see a claymore, but quickly regained his composure. "So what if it's a claymore? They're common enough at these gatherings, even dragon eggs aren't rare enough to warrant special attention." Though tempted to keep the sword, the pirate tossed it back to Viserys.

"Dragon eggs, you say? How fortunate," Viserys said with a smirk. He turned, pulling a small box from his belongings, and placed it before the pirate. "Take a look." The pirates on the speedboat relaxed their bows slightly, curious about what Viserys had to show. Could this man really be holding a dragon egg? The pirate with the turban, skeptical, opened the box with some hesitation. To his shock, a green dragon egg lay inside.

He couldn't believe his eyes and leaned closer, holding the lantern up to inspect it. Just as he did, Viserys kicked the lid shut. "What's the matter? Do you want to inspect it?" Viserys asked, his tone mocking. The pirate hesitated. If he refused someone carrying a dragon egg, his captain would be furious. But if he didn't inspect it and something went wrong, he'd be in just as much trouble. After a moment's thought, he decided it wasn't worth the risk. This man likely wanted to make a grand entrance at the gathering, flaunting his dragon egg and causing a scene.

The pirate's gaze shifted to the clay pots at their feet. "And what's in those?" he asked.

"Poison," Viserys answered coldly. "Care to try some?"

Realizing Viserys wasn't someone to be trifled with, the pirate signaled to his men to lower their bows and let them pass. As the speedboat drifted away, everyone aboard exhaled in relief, sweat beading on their foreheads.

"Lord Viserys, didn't you say you had spies?" one of the mercenaries asked, their unease palpable.

"Do you think spies are so easily used? We still have that cursed island ahead of us," Viserys replied sharply. Though his response didn't completely quell their doubts, they had no choice but to trust him.

They had known the risks when they signed on for this mission. If they succeeded, the rewards would be worth the danger. As they approached the island, the light dimmed, the evening giving way to night. But a row of illuminated braziers ahead marked their path clearly.

"Dany, scout for the least crowded path," Viserys whispered to the owl on his shoulder. The owl cooed in response and took flight, circling the island. Though their target was a small island, it took time to survey the area. Despite their efforts to approach slowly, the delay in reaching shore had already caught the attention of the island's guards.

As another boat drew near, tension among Viserys' crew rose once more. The anxiety from the previous inspection had barely subsided, and now they faced another. Thinking quickly, Viserys shouted to Jorah, "You still want 30%? What are you, a king?!"

Jorah was caught off guard, unsure of what Viserys was trying to do. "What?"

"Scold me! Hurry!" Viserys hissed urgently.

"Huh?" Jorah was baffled.

"I said, scold me!" Viserys repeated, just as a voice from the approaching boat called out, "What are you doing here?!"

Chapter 108: Scared Dany

"What are you doing here?"

The man who spoke had olive skin and at first glance, could easily be mistaken for someone from Dorne.

Jorah finally gathered himself and retorted, "What makes you think you get the biggest share? I helped too!"

Viserys was relieved to see that Jorah had regained his composure.

"Think for yourself! You're not contributing at all!"

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm asking you a question! What are you doing here?" The man on the ship shouted again when no one answered, but he seemed to have overheard their argument about the spoils.

"My lord, one of us is a greedy bastard, and we're about to toss him overboard!" Viserys said, pointing at Jorah.

Jorah's eyes widened slightly at the accusation.

"I don't care what you're doing here. Either get ashore or leave now!" The young pirate from Dorne wasn't one to curse much, whether from habit or lack of experience.

"My lord, we need to settle this today. This man wants half of this Valyrian steel sword! If everyone acted like him, how could I lead my crew?" Viserys was stalling for time.

"I don't care how you settle it. Leave now or head to the island!"

"My lord, this is Valyrian steel!"

As Viserys continued to stall, the Dorne pirate waved impatiently. The pirates on the ship nocked their arrows, the tips glinting coldly in the light. Tension mounted among Viserys' group, the cold sweat they had just begun to shake off now returning in full force. At that moment, Viserys noticed an owl circling overhead. Quickly, he said, "We're going to the island, we're leaving now!"

To make his act more convincing, Viserys turned to Jorah and added, "Once we're out of here, you're fired!"

Seeing that they were finally leaving, the pirates who had come to question them turned away.

"Lord Viserys, the informant you mentioned still hasn't shown up?"

"That was him. He just informed me that the pirates are thinnest in the west, so we can sneak in from there," Viserys replied casually, though his eyes remained fixed on the owl leading the way overhead. The others looked puzzled.

The Sellswords were accustomed to risk; they knew they were there to sell their lives, so regret wasn't an issue. At most, they might grumble a bit. Besides, Viserys had been generous, paying them in advance before they set off. Though mercenaries, they still had a sense of professional ethics, and none of them complained as Viserys coaxed and persuaded them.

Soon, they reached the west side of the island. As expected, the area was sparsely populated, with only about twenty people visible at first glance. Just two guards were stationed on the high ground, though they wouldn't be easy to deal with.

"When we get ashore, gather the group and take them out. I'll handle the guards on the high ground," Viserys instructed.

"Got it, no problem," Caggo and the others replied.

With everyone watching, Viserys quietly slipped off the boat. After a minute or two passed without any sign of him, those on board grew uneasy, wondering if he had become tangled in seaweed or encountered some other mishap.

"Why isn't he coming up?" someone muttered.

"Maybe he sank?" another suggested.

"Where is he?" Caggo asked, his sharp eyes scanning the shore. The others followed his gaze and saw a dark figure emerging from the water and creeping onto the land.

Like a stealthy shadow cat, Viserys approached the two guards on the high ground. Meanwhile, the rest of the group rowed the boat to shore, quickly attracting the guards' attention due to their numbers.

"You there! You can't all come ashore at once!" one guard shouted.

Caggo turned to his men and, with a quick punch to one of them, whispered, "Fight!"

"Hey! Stop right there!" The guards, noticing the commotion, began to gather. However, before they could react, the sharp swish of arrows filled the air. The guards on the upper level sensed something was amiss and reached for their throats, only to find warm blood trickling down. One guard, still unaware of the danger, was struck down by a crossbow bolt. In less than two minutes, Viserys' group had seized control of the temporary dock on the west side. Some of them disguised themselves as guards, while the remaining thirty or so followed Viserys.

They soon arrived at a large hole at the top of a cave. After silently eliminating the guards stationed there, they began preparing the poison gas. Earlier, Viserys had demonstrated the terrifying power of chlorine gas to boost their confidence. The memory of it had sent chills down their spines, making them acutely aware that even the strongest armor would offer no protection against such a weapon. It was this display that had convinced them to take the risk with him.

Viserys peered down into the hole, Dany's owl perched on his shoulder doing the same. Below, he could make out two or three hundred pirates. Though his view was limited, the variety of clothing styles was apparent. Surprisingly, some of the people didn't resemble pirates at all but more like a gathering of merchants. A few even wore luxurious silk garments, and if it weren't for the setting, one might have mistaken them for respectable individuals.

After confirming that the gathering of pirates showed nothing unusual, Viserys directed the group to set up a tent over the cave to trap the gas. Under his command, they placed several clay pots, poured in concentrated acid, sprinkled salt, and lit a fire. As the acid boiled, thick yellow-green gas began to fill the cave. However, they quickly encountered a problem—the cave was large, and the pirates were spread out. Releasing the poison gas as planned might not kill them all at once.

"Don't worry about me, just release the poison gas!" Viserys ordered. With Dany's owl on his shoulder and a Valyrian steel sword in hand, he stuffed the dragon egg into his tunic and walked toward the cave entrance, intending to lure as many pirates as possible.

When he reached the entrance, the guards approached to question him. However, upon seeing the dragon egg, their suspicions vanished, and they stared at it, mesmerized.

Entering the cave, Viserys and the guards navigated a narrow, winding tunnel. After about ten steps, the passage suddenly opened up, revealing a cavernous hall. The place buzzed with activity, resembling a bustling market rather than a pirate den. Dozens of braziers burned brightly, and hundreds of candles cast a golden glow over the scene.

Ignoring the spectacle before him, Viserys focused on the noise—a cacophony of haggling over treasures. Some pirates were bartering over a meter-high fiery red coral, while others boasted about a lavish golden crown, claiming it had been stolen from the tombs of Yi Ti. Others still showed off various Dragonbone items and jewelry, insisting their treasures came from the Shadow Lands of Asshai. Here, mere gold and silver held little value in this den of demons.

Viserys spotted a pirate with a burnt face attempting to sell a shiny, dog-sized piece of debris.

"I found this near the Smoking Sea! It's still warm to the touch!" the pirate exclaimed, referring to the dangerous area around the ruins of Valyria's end. He held the object out for everyone to see. When someone reached out to touch it, they recoiled in surprise. "It's really hot! It feels numb!" the man exclaimed.

"Hot and tingly?" Viserys thought, shocked. 'No, this can't be—uranium!' He remembered reading on forums in his previous life that many who ventured to Valyria never returned, not just because of unknown monsters, but possibly due to "magic radiation" similar to nuclear fallout. This shiny, hot, and tingling object set off alarm bells in his mind. After all, he had ended up in this world after being caught in a tactical nuclear explosion.

"What do you think? It's a good find, right? A thousand gold dragons!" the pirate announced, trying to pitch his sale.

Dany, perched on Viserys's shoulder in her owl form, seemed particularly interested in the object. She tilted her head in that owl-like way, rotating it far more than a human could, her yellow eyes fixed on the shiny piece.

"Focus!" Viserys whispered sharply to her.

Dany responded with a soft coo.

Viserys estimated that the total value of the treasures these pirates had brought could easily amount to 400,000 to 500,000 gold dragons. And with the bounties on the heads of the pirate leaders, the sum could rise even higher.

He glanced at the hole in the ceiling, noticing that a faint green mist was already starting to seep through. It was time. He began making his way through the crowd towards the bottom of the hole. As soon as Viserys entered the area, Euron noticed him and the owl on his shoulder. Euron, recognizing Dany's behavior, suspected the owl was under the control of a Skinchanger. Removing his eye patch, he revealed a black pupil underneath, which flickered with a faint, eerie light that immediately caught Dany's attention.

Viserys finally reached the bottom of the hole. He had taken a deep breath earlier, enough to sustain him for some time. Although chlorine gas was harmful to the eyes, he knew it could be treated later, so he wasn't too worried.

Just as he was about to instruct Dany to close her eyes and proceed with selling the dragon egg to the pirates, the owl suddenly panicked, burrowing desperately into his arms.

'What's happening? What could frighten a Soul Binder like this?' he wondered. It dawned on him that there must be powerful sorcerers or wizards among the pirates, but with the plan already in motion, there was no turning back.

Chapter 109: Revealed Identity

At this point, some of the pirates had already caught a whiff of the chlorine gas, but they remained unconcerned, too engrossed in the treasure to care.

"It's not practical to hunt them down one by one. We need to lure them all here and trap them in one sweep!"

As the green smoke started to fill the cave, Viserys raised the dragon egg above his head and shouted, "I have a dragon egg! I'm willing to trade it for at least three good ships!"

His voice boomed, silencing all other noise in the cave.

As soon as he finished speaking, a brief silence fell, quickly followed by an explosion of exclamations:

"Did I hear that right? A dragon egg!"

"A dragon egg! It's been years since we've seen one at a gathering!"

"Is it real?!"

Despite their varied reactions, the pirates instinctively began moving toward Viserys. Euron, who had been wandering around the cave, narrowed his eyes and approached, already plotting how to seize the dragon egg. He was even more interested in Viserys's owl, which he intended to take along with Viserys himself.

"I'll offer four large longships!" declared a pirate in a dark red velvet robe, his portly figure betraying a life of indulgence. Viserys recognized him as Red Silk Fish, a notorious pirate from Volantis, commanding six ships and specializing in raiding the southern Rhoyne.

"I'll bid four longships and a thousand gold dragons!" A black pirate spoke up, raising the stakes. This man, far taller and broader than most, made a generous offer that immediately silenced many others who had considered bidding.

The pirates crowded in to get a closer look at the dragon egg, jostling for space as they pressed in tightly.

Viserys glanced up at the poisonous fog, calculating that it would take at least five or six minutes to fill the entire cave. Thinking quickly, he announced, "I'm only interested in new ships, less than three years old!"

The raised requirement caused some pirates to hesitate, but Viserys continued scanning the gathered crowd, still unable to identify the suspicious figure he sought.

Just then, a hoarse voice cut through the noise. A thin female pirate spoke up, "May I ask, my lord, where did you acquire this dragon egg?"

Viserys turned his gaze to her. She was in her forties, with olive skin and a face lined with wrinkles, though her eyes were unusually bright. Behind her stood two slender pirates who bore a strong resemblance to her—likely her relatives or sons.

He recognized her as "Black Wave," the leader of a pirate crew that was more of a "pirate family," with all members related by blood or marriage.

Her question, however, put Viserys on edge. He frowned and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Does it matter to you? Are you buying or not?"

"I think this dragon egg looks familiar," the woman said, drawing the attention of the entire crowd.

"What do you mean? Did you lay it yourself?" Viserys snapped, glancing up at the smoke. It would be another two minutes before the cave filled completely, but he noticed some pirates had already begun rubbing their eyes, signaling that the poison gas was starting to take effect. He too felt an itch in his eyes, and a quick glance at his health panel showed it had dropped to 99.8.

"If I'm not mistaken, this dragon egg came from the Braavos Festival, didn't it?"

"So what if it did?" Viserys replied sharply.

Black Wave stared him down. "I remember that the person who won this dragon egg was named Viserys, the Prince of Westeros."

"Prince of Westeros? I think I've heard of him," murmured some pirates, beginning to recall who Viserys was.

"Hey! I remember now—The Beggar King!"

Viserys continued to scan the crowd during this brief moment of distraction. The owl in his arms trembled, and he felt a growing anxiety, still unable to spot the suspicious figure.

He sneered, "Hmph, we're all pirates here. Do we care who something belonged to when we take it?"

"So, are you admitting you stole this dragon egg from Viserys?" Black Wave pressed.

"I never said this dragon egg belonged to that Viserys."

But to everyone's surprise, Black Wave raised her arm, and her two sons hoisted her onto their shoulders. From her elevated position, she addressed the crowd, "Everyone, I'm 80% sure this is the dragon egg from Braavos, and the man who won it is named Viserys Targaryen. Have you all heard the song 'Sailor'?"

Some in the crowd nodded, recognizing the tune. Half a year had passed since Viserys's "Sailor" had become popular across the Free Cities, with versions even in the common tongue.

"My lord, as far as I know, Viserys left Braavos after the celebration and became a mercenary. He joined the Windblown. The only ones daring enough to challenge those sellswords are right here. So, which pirate group are you from?"

The implication was clear—Black Wave suspected Viserys's true identity.

"The Iron Hook Pirates."

At his words, Black Wave's eyes gleamed, and she shouted to the crowd, "He's lying! Baland of the Iron Hook was executed by the Braavosians!"

With that revelation, swords were drawn all around. Suspicion filled the air—how could a minor pirate know about Orange Shore Bay, and if he hadn't received an invitation, how had he arrived on the island?

"Arrest him!"

"Kill him!"

"Hang him!"

"Sell him to a brothel!"

The pirates roared, their eyes blazing with fury as they fixated on the dragon egg in Viserys's hand.

Yet, among the enraged shouts, a few pirates began to sense that something was amiss. If Viserys was truly up to something, why would he have traveled so far just to flaunt a dragon egg? The egg was likely acquired through legitimate means, and there were far more practical ways to sell it. Some quick-witted pirates started to suspect there was more at play, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it. An ambush? That seemed unlikely—any child could see that was impossible.

Euron, standing amid the crowd, smirked as he watched Viserys, curious to see his next move.

Then, his eyes began to water, followed by a sharp, burning sensation. Just as the pirates believed they had Viserys cornered, many of them started feeling unwell. Those who had been rubbing their eyes now found the irritation worsening, and their breaths grew labored. Black Wave, perched on her sons' shoulders, suddenly erupted into a violent coughing fit. All around, pirates' eyes began streaming with tears.

Soon, dizziness, nausea, and vomiting swept through the crowd.

"Cough! Cough! What's happening?"

As the pirates noticed the collective discomfort, they quickly realized something was terribly wrong. The culprit was obvious.

"Hey! What's going on?" one of the pirates demanded, drawing his curved knife and pointing it at Viserys.

But Viserys ignored the pirate's threat, his focus unwavering. "Skinchanger, I warn you—show yourself now, or you'll be dead soon!" he shouted, his eyes stinging as he scanned the crowd.

The pirate leaders were dropping one by one, but the suspicious figure he sought remained elusive. As Black Wave struggled to flee, Viserys swiftly plunged his Dragonbone dagger into her neck.

Euron, too, sensed the escalating danger. A dagger slipped from his sleeve, and with one fluid motion, he stabbed a nearby pirate in the neck. Warm blood gushed from the five-inch wound, and before the pirate could scream, Euron pressed his fingers into the wound, chanting a dark incantation. The blood began to flow up his arm, pooling around his eyes and mouth in a grotesque, unsettling display. Simultaneously, Euron feigned weakness from the poison gas, collapsing onto those around him to avoid suspicion.

Viserys saw many pirates fall, but the elusive figure remained hidden. 'Could it be that he's already dead from the poison gas?' he wondered.

"Please, my lord, spare me! I'll give you all my treasure!"

A few pirates, still able to move, crawled to Viserys's feet, begging for mercy. He kicked them aside without a second thought. There might have been pirates outside who hadn't yet shed blood, but everyone within this chamber was a hardened criminal.

But now was not the time for pity. Viserys looked up at the ceiling and signaled to Jorah and the others. They lowered ropes and descended one by one, their faces covered with the special masks they had been given earlier.

"Caggo, cut off their heads! Start with the ones in good clothes. The rest of you, grab everything you can! Take as much as possible!"

He hoped this brutal method would force the suspected Skinchanger to reveal itself.

Chapter 110: Eat It

At Viserys's command, everyone began looting and beheading the fallen. The overwhelming stench of blood filled the hall. Viserys continued his search, while Dany's owl trembled in his arms.

"Don't be afraid, Dany, don't be afraid," he whispered, his anxiety mounting. He wanted to find the man suspected of being a Skinchanger, hoping to discover any magical notes or something of value. If that failed, he might have to check his ship.

Suddenly, Viserys sensed a flash of cold steel coming from behind. He dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding the attack.

"Is someone still alive?!" he exclaimed, startled. But with his exceptional combat skills, he swiftly kicked the attacker twice in the stomach and once in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. The commotion drew everyone's attention, and they turned to see what was happening.

"Who are you?" Viserys demanded, drawing his sword and pointing it at the man.

"Your Skinchanger friend is injured, isn't he?"

'It's him,' Viserys thought, recognizing the man. Surviving in a chlorine gas fog was no small feat.

Euron Greyjoy got up, his eye patch dislodged, revealing a malevolent black eye. He hadn't expected to come so close to death.

"Lord Viserys, or should I call you Prince? I think there might be a small misunderstanding between us. How about this: I teach you a spell to heal your companion, and you let me go?"

Viserys regarded him coldly. "You haven't told me who you are yet."

"Euron. Euron Greyjoy."

'It's Euron, the big boss! He wants to kill me!' Viserys's shock quickly turned to an instinctive urge to kill him. This man was not just evil, but a true villain. In the original tale, Euron had killed all his brothers—a heinous crime of Kinslaying. He was far worse than Andersen, who had conspired with him to kill his father. Andersen had done it out of self-preservation or ambition, but Euron relished in such evil.

Sensing Viserys's murderous intent, Euron's muscles tensed.

"Prince, I suggest you treat your companion soon, or I can't guarantee what will happen." Viserys pressed his sword against Euron's throat and asked, "How can I trust that your spell works?"

To his surprise, Euron didn't flinch. Instead, he pressed his neck against the sword's tip.

"Prince, you have no choice but to trust me. I've just barely returned from the dead. How do you know I won't warn those outside?"

But Viserys wasn't fooled. He whispered, "Have you ever wondered why I didn't die in the poison gas either?"

He grabbed Euron's neck and began to squeeze.

"You'd better tell me everything you know, or I'll see if a man whose head's been ripped off can still come back to life!"

Viserys knew Euron only cared about his own survival, valuing others' lives as little as ants. If he hesitated out of fear of upsetting Euron, it would only give the man an opening to exploit. Only by showing enough ruthlessness could he force Euron to comply.

Luckily, Viserys had judged correctly. Euron saw the murderous intent in his eyes, and his confidence wavered, no longer the expression of someone who thought they were in control.

Euron coughed violently, and then, with little choice, quickly demonstrated the spell. Viserys focused intently, not daring to miss a single detail.

[Blood Magic: - Beginner (3/100)]

A message appeared on his panel, Viserys realized Euron had given him the genuine article. With this spell, he could heal Dany himself. For the first time, Viserys felt a small measure of relief.

"It's okay, you guys can continue!" he called out to the crowd, then turned to Euron.

"I heard you've been to many places. I wonder, have you ever ventured to the ruins of Valyria?"

"Not yet, but I'm preparing to go," Euron replied.

Based on the timeline, Euron should enter the ruins of Valyria after the story of ice and fire begins. This means it will be at least two or three years before he explores it. When he does, he will bring back all sorts of treasures, including the Dragon's Horn, Valyrian steel armor, and dragon eggs. Euron also possesses powerful magic, but for now, the tide of magic hasn't fully returned, limiting his strength.

In truth, Viserys wanted to kill this man immediately. But thinking about the treasures Euron might acquire in the future and the way to navigate the ruins of Valyria, Viserys hesitated.

'This man is pure evil. I could probably track him with Dragon Dreams. Judging by his performance in the original story, even if he returns to the Iron Islands, he hasn't yet become especially powerful. With the help of the system, I should be able to gain the upper hand.'

With this thought, Viserys's mood eased slightly, and he temporarily dismissed the idea of killing Euron. Euron, sensing the murderous intent in Viserys fading, felt a moment of relief. However, in the next instant, he felt Viserys's malice flare up once more.

"Chirp!"

A sharp pain shot through Euron's ear, followed by the sensation of warm blood streaming down his face. The sudden agony drained the color from his cheeks, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You!"

Viserys ignored him, tearing off one of Euron's ears and shoving it into his mouth. Some of the mercenaries, busy collecting treasures, couldn't help but glance in Viserys's direction. Witnessing his cruelty, they instinctively touched their own ears.

"This is your punishment!"

Euron stared at Viserys in disbelief.

"Eat it!"

Terrified by Viserys's power, Euron had no choice but to swallow his own ear. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as anger and murderous intent surged wildly within him. Little did he know, this was precisely what Viserys wanted. Only with a deep-seated hatred would Euron be more "motivated" to explore the ruins of Valyria. Moreover, the most crucial factor was that Viserys could locate Euron through Dragon Dreams, allowing him to "see" the sights within the ruins without risking his own life.

After swallowing the bloody flesh, Euron vowed in his heart to use the most brutal means to torture Viserys to death. He would personally destroy everything Viserys cherished, letting despair and darkness consume his life.

However, Euron was stunned once more when he saw the expression on Viserys' face. It was as if Viserys could read his thoughts, and the more sinister those thoughts became, the more pleased Viserys seemed.

For the first time, Euron felt genuine fear. He swore to himself that this was the first time in his life he had ever been truly afraid.

"Are you coming with us, or will you find your own way out?" Viserys asked, sensing the moment was right.

"Of course, I'm coming with you," Euron replied, suppressing both his fear and anger.

Soon, the group had plundered all the valuables they could find, with each person carrying treasures worth at least 10,000 gold dragons. Caggo had even hung seven or eight human heads from his body, each worth tens of thousands of gold dragons.

Such a haul would make them all fabulously wealthy—if they could get it out. The group quickly made their way out, clinging to the ropes. Viserys didn't force Euron to go with them because he knew that Euron was plotting to kill him personally, not leaving the task to others. So, he left Euron behind and departed with the group.

"Leave him behind. Let's go!" Viserys dismissed Jorah's suggestion to kill Euron immediately.

Euron watched Viserys leave, venomous intent swirling in his eyes. His teeth clenched as he seethed with rage.

As soon as the group left the island, a disturbance erupted behind them. The pirates guarding the cave first caught a faint whiff of blood, then realized there was no sound from within. This struck them as odd.

After some hesitation, a few pirates ventured inside, only to be met with an unforgettable sight. The ground was littered with headless corpses dressed in fine clothing, and the treasures brought by the pirate leaders had been stolen. Realizing they had been attacked, the pirates first panicked, then sounded the alarm.

By this time, Viserys and the others had already surfaced and were frantically racing toward the ship. But Dany was delirious and unable to send a message, and Webber and the others had no idea when to come to their rescue!

Just then, a warning shout came from behind them: "Stop the ship!" Everyone was shocked—they had been discovered!

"Row! Row!" The two Gerrolds urged frantically, while Viserys spoke to the owl in his arms, "Dany! Pull yourself together and tell Webber and Regis to come and rescue us!"

But the owl did not respond, continuing to tremble in his arms.

"Row! Row! Row!" The Gerrolds continued to shout as the owl in Viserys's arms trembled, while on the boat, Dany convulsed in Kyla's arms. Kyla looked at Dany in a panic, having never seen anything like it before. Suddenly, she heard Dany whisper something.

"...leave... leave..."

"Leave? Did Lord Viserys succeed?"

But all Kyla could hear was a faint, indistinct repetition of "leave" and "leave."

Chapter 111: Blood Magic Has Other Uses As Well

Swish, swish, swish—

Pop, pop, pop—

Duh, duh, duh—

Despite Viserys and the others refusing to halt their ship, the pirate speedboats chasing them began launching arrows. However, the poor lighting made visibility abysmal, causing most arrows to miss their mark and splash into the water. A few struck the ship, injuring only three or five crew members. But in the darkness of night, the number of casualties remained uncertain to most.

Under the pressure of the assault, everyone rowed with all their might. Some even grabbed whatever they could find to help row, but the effect was minimal.

"Uh-oh..." Suddenly, another crew member was hit by an arrow, prompting those around him to duck in fear. With fewer people rowing, their speed couldn't improve.

"Lord Viserys!" Viserys turned to see Gerrold Redback approaching. He wanted to demand why the rescue hadn't arrived yet, but instead, he bowed his head and whispered urgently to the owl, "Dany! Wake up! Dany! Wake up!" Yet, as the speedboat behind them drew closer, Dany's owl remained unresponsive.

He knew that if he abandoned the crew and escaped, he would likely survive—he could hold his breath underwater for nearly an hour. But doing so would render their entire mission futile, and Windblown would be unable to return. Moreover, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the people who had risked their lives alongside him.

Just then, a ship approached from the front, a round, shiny object visible on its bow. As it neared, they realized it was Regis. Never had they been so relieved to see that bald head!

The sight of the approaching ship lifted everyone's spirits. The pursuing speedboats also noticed, slowing down temporarily. Regis and his crew maneuvered their ship between Viserys and the pursuers, providing cover with a volley of arrows.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! Get on board!" The crew on Regis' ship even threw down ropes to help them board faster. Viserys and his men exerted every ounce of strength to scramble onto the ship.

Thump—splat—

"Ouch!" A mercenary's stolen scepter fell from his waist, striking the head of the man below before splashing into the sea.

"My scepter!"

"Scepter my ass! Get up here, or I'll stab you myself!" Despite the chaos, some still couldn't resist the lure of wealth. Watching a scepter worth at least 3,000 gold dragons, studded with precious gems, sink into the sea broke the mercenary's heart.

Finally, as the last of them climbed aboard, the pirates in pursuit realized what had happened. They shouted orders: "Hurry! Tell the crew on the ship wall to block the passage!"

One of the pirates grabbed a cow's horn from his belt and blew it with all his might. In response to the horn's call, the ship wall began to close, with several flashes of fire illuminating the narrowing passage.

"Charge! Accelerate and break through!" The crew on the ship stared anxiously at the narrowing exit. As they approached, it became clear that there was no room left to pass.

"Ram it! Smash through!" Viserys roared, and the ship shuddered violently. For a moment, it felt as if the vessel might tear apart—railings splintered, the deck buckled, and a terrifying crack echoed through the hull, threatening to destroy them all.

But miraculously, the main body of the ship held together, and they managed to escape the closing ship wall at the last moment. As Orange Shore Bay receded into the distance, a wave of relief washed over everyone.

"We made it!"

"Ahahaha..."

"Woo-hoo~~~"

The crew erupted in cheers, especially Caggo and the others who had accompanied Viserys on the pirate raid. The loot they had seized far exceeded their expectations. Even if they had returned empty-handed, the heads of their enemies alone would have ensured a life of luxury for a long time.

Above them, a few crows circled in the night sky, their beady eyes fixed on Viserys's ship as if intent on following it. But suddenly, a piercing cry cut through the darkness, scattering the crows in all directions. Viserys guessed they were likely Euron's crows.

He was astonished that Euron could control an entire flock of crows simultaneously. Yet, under the threat of a golden eagle, the crows fled as if their lives depended on it.

Having dealt with the pursuers, Viserys didn't join in the celebration. Instead, he made sure they were safe before heading to Dany's quarters. There, he found her convulsing in Kyla's arms. Her delicate features were twisted in agony, as though she were enduring some inhuman torture. Her once translucent, delicate skin had turned a ghastly blue, and her tightly shut eyes and furrowed brows made Viserys's heart ache. If only Euron had been more useful and handed over the blood magic earlier, this might have been avoided.

After gently distracting Kyla, Viserys quickly began practicing the blood magic Euron had taught him. He cut his wrist, allowing the blood to flow as he chanted the incantation. Though he didn't lose much blood, Viserys felt his vitality draining rapidly, as if his very essence was being siphoned away.

When he checked his status panel, he saw that his Spirit, Health, and Constitution were all declining rapidly. By the time the spell was complete, he had lost nearly 40 points in these attributes, with his Health plummeting from 100 to 69. But he wasn't too concerned; he still had plenty of Assignable Points.

The blood in the small bowl seemed to be drawn by an unseen force, every drop entering Dany's mouth. The thick blood didn't even cling to the bottom of the bowl but flowed as easily as water. As Viserys's blood entered her, Dany's expression gradually relaxed. After a while, she drifted into a deep sleep, her pallor replaced by a healthy flush. Satisfied that her breathing had steadied, Viserys finally felt a sense of relief.

Suddenly, a thought struck him: 'With these skills, I'm basically a healer, aren't I? This is literally blood restoration.'

He pondered further. 'Could blood magic also work on dragon eggs?' He remembered that in the original story, dragons were hatched with the help of blood magic—or perhaps it transformed the fossilized dragon eggs. Could he use this magic to nourish the eggs now? After all, the Mother of Dragons hatched her dragons long after the Red Comet. Maybe he could accelerate the hatching process.

Feeling revitalized, Viserys used the points he had accumulated, boosting all three attributes back to over 90. The surge of energy made him feel much stronger.

The next morning, the crew gathered on the deck to divide their loot. Under Caggo's watchful eye, no one dared to keep any for themselves. One pile was reserved for the heads of the pirates, and the other for the treasury.

Jorah eagerly presented his calculations to Viserys.

"Prince Viserys, we've captured 163 treasures and taken 42 pirate heads. If we sell these heads in Volantis at the listed bounty prices, we'll earn 170,000 gold dragons!"

Jorah had been a mercenary and slave trader on the continent of Essos for many years, but he had never seen such wealth. If he had, perhaps his wife wouldn't have run off with another man. As for the 100+ treasures, Jorah didn't recognize some of them, but he estimated their total value at no less than 400,000 gold dragons.

"Let's go have a look," Viserys said. As he stepped onto the deck, he saw the crew gathered around the loot, pointing and talking excitedly, with some even drooling over the riches. It was said that Caggo had gone around to check everyone the previous night to ensure no one was hiding anything before heading to bed.

"Lord Viserys is here!"

"The sergeant has arrived!"

When Viserys appeared, shouts of recognition echoed across the deck. It was clear to everyone that he alone had the authority to distribute the spoils. He cast a glance at Caggo, Webber, Redback Gerrold, Black Gerrold, Regis, and the other mercenaries who had accompanied him on the raid. Then, he looked over at the mercenaries standing at a distance, whose only task had been to pick them up after the raid.

Under the expectant gazes of the crowd, Viserys declared, "For the brothers responsible for picking us up, each of you will receive an additional 300 gold dragons!"

"Oh..."

"Long live Viserys! Long live Viserys!"

Cheers erupted across the ship, startling the seagulls perched on the mast into flight. For the ordinary mercenaries, 500 gold dragons was the equivalent of one or two years' pay—maybe even two or three years! With that kind of money, they could live comfortably for quite some time.

But then Viserys made an even more generous and extravagant decision. He addressed the crowd, "My brothers who joined me on the island, go pick something from the treasure pile!" The cheers grew even louder. None of these treasures were worth less than 1,000 gold dragons!

"Long live Viserys!"

"Long live Viserys!"

"Long live Viserys!"

As soon as Viserys finished speaking, the men who had participated in the raid eagerly stepped forward to choose their share. Despite the excitement, everyone was tactful and avoided taking the half-meter-tall coral, valued at around 10,000 gold dragons. It was rumored that the coral had originally been a meter tall, but someone had broken it off for easier transport. Given the circumstances at the time, they hadn't had the luxury to be more careful.

Viserys estimated that this haul would bring in nearly 400,000 gold dragons, enough to build an army of about 2,000 men.

"First, we'll head to Volantis, exchange these pirate heads for cash, and then enjoy ourselves! All expenses are on me!" The mercenaries erupted into near madness, their cheers reaching a fever pitch. It seemed they could hardly say anything other than "Long live Viserys."

Jorah, standing nearby, was stunned. Viserys had just committed to spending over a hundred thousand gold dragons without so much as a blink. It was... astounding. Viserys's lavishness reminded Jorah of his own extravagant wife. Then again, she had never been quite like this—more like Robert Baratheon. But while Robert had drained the national treasury, Viserys was spending money he had earned himself.

Chapter 112: Broken Dragon Egg

"Shit!"

Viserys stared at the seam.

[Touching a dragon egg, you gain 4.3 distributable attribute points.]

His smile froze as he read the blue text floating before him. Turning the dragon egg over in his hands, anger began to rise within him.

"Which son of a bitch broke my dragon egg!"

He was holding a grayish-white dragon egg, and his fury was palpable. While counting his loot, he had found a box. Initially, he hadn't expected it to contain a dragon egg, but when he opened it, he was overjoyed to discover the grayish-yellow egg inside. Despite its dull color, the swirling diamond pattern was exceptionally beautiful. However, upon turning it over, he noticed two horizontal cracks—one deep, the other shallow. The shallow crack extended from the deep one, forming a shape reminiscent of a person.

"This box! Who took this box?" Caggo demanded, snatching the box from Viserys's hands and glaring at everyone.

A young mercenary with flaxen hair stepped forward, his face full of anxiety. "Lord Viserys, I took the box, but it was already cracked when I found it..."

"Are you sure?" Viserys asked, his voice cold. Several malicious glances were directed at the young man, and he felt his legs go weak.

"I swear on my mother's life! I would never dare lie!"

After a moment of consideration, Viserys chose to believe him. If the egg had been intact, it would have caused a sensation in the cave. The original owner probably kept it hidden to avoid suspicion and find a scapegoat for the damage.

Looking down, Viserys noticed some scraps of padding in the box, likely placed there to disguise the damage. 'It's broken, so I'll try using blood magic on it later,' he reassured himself.

After several days of sailing, the group was nearing Volantis. Many planned to sell their loot to buy armor and weapons. However, Viserys advised them to hold off, promising that they would get a better price if they traded together. The group agreed, and when Viserys offered to cover all their expenses, they thanked him profusely.

Since they were low on funds, they planned to cash in the heads of their enemies before spending money. Given the large amount of treasure they intended to sell, only Volantis— the largest and most powerful of the Free Cities—could offer an ideal price. Moreover, its proximity was a significant factor. Heading to Braavos instead might invite trouble along the way.

Viserys had no intention of exchanging the spoils for gold and storing it away. He reminded himself that his goal as a sellsword was not to amass wealth. Instead, he planned to trade everything for weapons and armor, then expand the Windblown.

With hundreds of thousands of gold dragons, he could increase the Windblown's ranks to at least 2,500 or 3,000 men, upgrading their equipment in the process. Their strength would rise significantly.

After all, without sufficient strength, this gold would be more a curse than a blessing. While he could use the money to start a new, smaller mercenary group, that would require significant effort. It would be far easier to expand the Windblown, building on its existing foundation.

The old captain's ambition is to capture Pentos, but at nearly sixty years old, his time is running out. If Viserys proves himself capable, he knows it's only a matter of time before he becomes the leader of the Windblown.

And this isn't just about serving someone else's interests—once he invests the money in equipping the mercenary group, he will effectively become the "second largest shareholder" of the Windblown.

His generosity toward the mercenaries is a calculated move to win their support. Viserys is confident that, upon his return, he will immediately secure the second-in-command position in the Windblown. This is his primary objective in Volantis.

This situation is vastly different from when he sold Queen Rhaella's crown to fund the Golden Company's dinner. Now, many believe that following Viserys will lead to a prosperous future. In other words, Viserys has become a figure worth backing, with a more compelling value proposition.

His second objective is to seize the opportunity to learn High Valyrian. Braavos may be known as Valyria's "bastard daughter," but Volantis is the "eldest daughter," home to the best-preserved Valyrian texts and possibly native speakers of High Valyrian.

The recent events with Euron have placed immense pressure on Viserys. Although the tide of magic has yet to fully return, he is determined to gather as much occult knowledge as possible. This is the only way he can secure an advantage in the future, or at the very least, keep Euron in check.

Additionally, he is eager to see Volantis's "Black Wall" with his own eyes. This Valyrian-era structure is said to have been built using magic. Considering the statue of the Three-Headed God he encountered in Tyrosh, there might be other "magical artifacts" in Volantis as well.

Finally, he intends to visit the temple of R'hllor. Although he found nothing in the temple of the Lord of Light in Braavos, Volantis boasts the largest and oldest temple of R'hllor in the world.

There must be something of value within its walls. According to his knowledge from the original novel, there was a "fire mage" proficient in fire magic. With the tide of magic still dormant, most of this mage's abilities would be inaccessible. Now is the perfect time for Viserys to learn what he can about magic.

"Weapons and armor, High Valyrian, fire magic..." Viserys muttered to himself as Volantis loomed closer, his mind racing with thoughts of how to acquire these things.

The port of Volantis was vast and deep, sprawling over almost half the area of Braavos. Though it lacked a Titan, the port still spoke of the prosperity that the "eldest daughter" of Valyria had once enjoyed.

Unfortunately, during the time of Aegon the Conqueror, Volantis had tried to resurrect Valyria, only to be crushed by Aegon and his dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, in alliance with several Free Cities. Since that defeat, Volantis had never fully recovered, with nearly two centuries of decline following in its wake.

The people of Volantis even harbored resentment towards the "Tiger Party" that had initiated the war. Yet, despite this history, the port was still busy. Hundreds of ships came and went each hour, though the number seemed disproportionately small given the massive size of the harbor.

As their ship neared the docks, the sounds of the city grew louder—the clatter of elephants dragging cargo, the crack of whips from slave masters, and the shouts of merchants hawking their goods. For the mercenaries, who had been away from big cities for so long, the vibrant atmosphere was exhilarating. Many leaned over the railing, craning their necks as if they could fly into the city ahead of the ship.

Soon, the ships docked, and Viserys addressed the group, "Brothers, stay on board while I exchange the money. Enjoy a seven-day party on me! I'll cover all expenses for the next week!"

"Long live Viserys!" the mercenaries shouted in unison. Their limited vocabulary only allowed for simple expressions of gratitude, but the sentiment was clear.

As Viserys and his companions disembarked, they were immediately hit by a pungent stench—a foul mix of feces and spices, as if they had swallowed live slugs. The odor brought back an unpleasant memory for Viserys, reminding him of a business trip he once took with his boss to a distant Eastern country. After a moment, the group adjusted to the smell.

"Let's keep going," Viserys said, taking Dany's hand and leading the way into the largest of the Free Cities.

Chapter 113: Redeeming Bounties

Volantis was divided into "New City" and "Old City." Viserys and his companions landed in Old City as sellswords. To cash in on their bounties, they needed to reach the "Black Wall" in Old City and find the person in charge. But first, they had to cross the Long Bridge, the longest in the world.

The Long Bridge stretched wide and far across the Rhoyne, reportedly taking forty years and millions of gold coins to complete. It was teeming with pedestrians, as slavery was a common practice in Volantis. Here, the ratio of slaves to free men was about five to one. Many slavers preferred not to walk, so those of modest means were carried by slaves, while the wealthier rode in slave-borne palanquins.

Slaves in Volantis bore tattoos on their faces that identified their "function." Those tasked with cleaning excrement had flies inked on their faces, while those managing carts and horses had wheels tattooed near their ears. Bed slaves, responsible for attending to their master's physical needs, had a tear tattooed on their faces.

The bridge was also lined with various shops, offering everything from weapons and armor to household goods. Almost anything could be purchased there.

"Brother, look, it's a dragon," Dany said, pointing to the reliefs on the black arches of the Long Bridge. The arches were adorned not only with dragons but also with sphinxes, lions, scorpion-tailed beasts, and other mythical creatures. Viserys touched one of the carvings but found no reaction, leading him to believe they were not from Valyria's time.

His hopes now rested on the Black Wall in Old City. Since he had already rallied a group of pirate leaders, staying under the radar was no longer an option. It was better to take the opposite approach and expand his reputation, which might yield some benefits.

As for any fear of pirate retaliation, it was unnecessary—those pirates were all decapitated. The surviving ones were likely fighting over the spoils, and in the future, they'd probably flee at the mere mention of Viserys's name.

"Perhaps we can draw the attention of the Triarchs of Volantis and get them to honor the bounty sooner!" Viserys declared to his companions. "Pick up all the pirates' heads and shout out the name of our Windblown Company!"

"Good!" they shouted in unison.

Amid the horrified gazes of the surrounding pedestrians, the Windblown Company members picked up the pirates' heads and strutted forward on the Long Bridge.

"We, the Windblown Company, have taken out pirates across the world! See this head in my hand? This is Black Wave's!" Even though they had only decapitated one pirate, boasting was a vital skill for sellswords. Their claims weren't entirely false—pirate activity was likely to decrease significantly in the coming years.

"Look at mine! This is Dark Pound's head!"

The mercenaries, already fierce and menacing, became even more intimidating as they paraded with the pirates' heads. The entire Long Bridge seemed to clear out ahead of them.

In panic, some slavers pulled their slaves in front of them as shields. Viserys and his group moved through the crowd like magnets with a repelling force, creating a wide berth wherever they went.

"Windblown? I've never heard of them."

"They killed all the pirates? How is that possible?"

Their bold display soon caught the attention of various factions, who reported back to their leaders. Naturally, Viserys's actions also attracted the notice of the Volantis guards. After all, a group of self-proclaimed mercenaries flaunting dozens of severed heads in broad daylight was hard to ignore.

Soon enough, a group of guards in light armor, their faces adorned with tiger-striped tattoos, halted the group. Viserys quickly realized that Volantis even used slaves in warfare. One of the guards, with dark eyes and a fierce expression, froze at the sight of Viserys and his companions. But remembering that this was his territory, he gathered the courage to ask, "You there, what are you doing?"

Viserys glanced at Jorah, signaling him to step forward and handle the situation.

"Gentlemen," Jorah began, "as you can see, we've taken down the leaders of these pirate groups and are heading to the Black Wall to claim the bounty."

"Claim the bounty?" the guard repeated, momentarily perplexed. It was like seeing someone wielding a knife in the street only to find out they were selling tofu. But regardless of their intent, allowing sellswords to roam unchecked would be a serious dereliction of duty.

"Put away those heads, and I'll take you to the Lord Triarch." The guard leader gave a few instructions to his men, ordering them to continue their patrol. He then led Viserys and the others, along with five guards, across the Long Bridge to the Old Town.

After crossing the bridge, the leader sent one of his men ahead to inform the "nobles" within the Black Wall. As they walked, Viserys and his group passed numerous dilapidated public facilities, including at least four dry fountains. These were clear signs of Volantis' decline, though they also hinted at its former grandeur through the variety of facilities.

This sight made Viserys wonder what Valyria must have been like at its peak. From the scant records that remained, it would have been a city driven by magic. Did it have anti-gravity spells to make buildings float in the sky? Were there projection spells that created magical theaters? One could only imagine. For now, Viserys thought, he would let Euron investigate before making any conclusions.

As the group continued, a tall black wall loomed in the distance. Viserys activated his Soul Binder skill, viewing the Black Wall from above through the eyes of a golden eagle. The Black Wall, originally a colonial fortress built by the Valyrians, formed a barely perceptible but perfectly regular oval. The architecture within was markedly different from that outside, with dragons statues adorning nearly every corner.

Some buildings seemed to merge seamlessly with dragon statues, while others, clearly chimneys, were decorated with dragon heads. Smoke billowed from the dragons' mouths, as if to display the last remnants of Valyria's glory. As Viserys pulled back his perspective, the blackened walls of the fortress appeared even more oppressive. Standing over three hundred feet tall, they seemed to bear down on the hearts of those who gazed upon them, making their breath catch in their throats.

The captain of the guards glanced back at the awestruck group, a hint of pride and contempt in his eyes. "Please wait here, gentlemen," he said before heading towards the gates of the Black Wall to deliver his report.

"Wait!" Viserys called out just as the captain took a step. It was then that the guard noticed Viserys' silver hair and purple eyes—traits that marked him as a Targaryen. "Tell your lord that Viserys Targaryen, the last living descendant of the Dragonlords, along with Daenerys Targaryen, have come to visit."

The guard froze for a moment, shocked to realize that the people standing before him were indeed Targaryen descendants. He quickly nodded and rushed forward to deliver the message.

Viserys and Dany had visited Volantis in the original story, but the nobles had merely regarded them as curiosities. This time, eager to collect the bounty as soon as possible, Viserys chose to reveal his identity. He wondered what kind of reception the nobles within the Black Wall would offer this time.

Chapter 114: Bounty as Compensation

The news that mercenaries, who claimed to have slain the world's pirate leaders, along with a descendant of the Dragonlord, was coming to visit rippled through the Black Wall like a stone tossed into a still pond. It stirred everyone within its confines. The normally idle nobles suddenly sprang to life, and under the service of their slaves, they all flocked to the Black Wall to catch a glimpse of the last remaining descendant of the Dragonlord.

These two events also alarmed the Triarchs within the Black Wall. Volantis is governed by two ruling parties and three Triarchs. Currently, one of the Triarchs belongs to the Tiger Party, while the other two are members of the Elephant Party. The Tiger Party is known for its zeal for war and expansion, whereas the Elephant Party prioritizes economic trade. Due to the war lost a hundred years ago, the people of Volantis harbor deep resentment toward the Tiger Party, which led them into that conflict. As a result, the Tiger Party has been suppressed for the past century, with Malaquo being the sole representative among the Triarchs.

Malaquo, now very old with no teeth left, spoke with his pink gums on display. "Hmph! How could a mercenary group wipe out all the world's pirates? In my view, they're likely frauds. Even if they did succeed, paying out 300,000 gold coins in one go would strain our finances this quarter."

The younger, plump Triarch responded, "So, are we going to renege on the reward? Is the reputation of Volantis worth less than 300,000 gold shimmering coins?" This Triarch, named Nyessos, was one of the two Elephant Party members. Given their focus on trade, reputation was paramount to them.

Malaquo countered, "Isn't there someone in that mercenary group who claims to be a descendant of the Targaryens? Conqueror Aegon once crushed our armies, and 300,000 gold coins is a mere pittance of compensation!" Though his proposal wasn't outright opposed by the two Elephant Party members, a tension lingered in the air.

Volantis is arguably the most cunning of the Free Cities, and the publicity surrounding Viserys and his companions had likely reached every corner of the Free Cities by now. Anyone with sense would see that Malaquo's suggestion reeked of bullying. To dredge up an event from 200 years ago as an excuse was sheer pettiness. Furthermore, after years of the Elephant Party suppressing the Tiger Party, most people in Volantis were disgusted by that war. Now, attempting to cheat the Dragonlord's descendants out of their reward would be intolerable to many.

If Malaquo's proposal were to pass, it would only bring further scorn upon the Tiger Party and might even jeopardize Malaquo's chances of being re-elected as Triarch. Realizing his mistake, he quickly abandoned the idea. In the original plot, the Dragon Mother's actions in liberating slaves had hurt the interests of most Volantene nobles, providing the Tiger Party with an opportunity to rise. But now, with Viserys' power too weak, making him a target would only backfire.

The Triarchs silently agreed to drop Malaquo's suggestion. Then, the third Triarch, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. "After all, these two Targaryens are merely the descendants of a fallen house. They do not deserve to be honored as Dragonlords by us. I'll be the one to receive them." As he spoke, a sly glint flashed in his brown eyes. His name was Alios, and he was also an Elephant Party Triarch. However, his proposal immediately raised suspicion in his fellow party member, Nyessos.

'What do you mean by you receiving them?' Nyessos thought. 'Even if the Targaryens are from a fallen dynasty, they are still pure-blooded Valyrians! If we can receive these two siblings, and if things go well, we could use them as our "mascots" for the next election.' Nyessos then said aloud, "I believe Lord Alios' concubine is about to give birth, isn't she? I'll handle this," his gaze locking with Alios'. Both men understood each other's intentions. After all, when two old foxes are playing the same game, it's better to collaborate. "Let's go together," they tacitly agreed.

At this point, Viserys and the others had been waiting outside for nearly an hour. As more and more people began peeking out from atop the city walls, the lack of a proper greeting left everyone feeling a bit disgruntled. After all, they had traveled a great distance and hadn't eaten yet. Viserys had also made them shout during the journey, leaving them parched and hungry, their stomachs growling.

Turning to Jorah, Viserys asked, "Ser Jorah, have you ever been to the Black Wall before?" Noticing that everyone was watching him, Jorah shook his head and replied, "No. Unless you're invited, no outsider can enter."

"So, you've been to Volantis before?" Viserys continued.

"Yes," Jorah confirmed.

"Then tell us something interesting that happened inside the Black Wall," Viserys said, giving him a knowing look. To the sellswords, something "interesting" naturally meant something more salacious.

At this, everyone's spirits lifted. Jorah glanced at Dany beside him, cleared his throat, and began, "Speaking of interesting things, do you know Yunkai in Slaver's Bay? The bed slaves there are quite famous. It's said that a nobleman from the Black Wall married one of his bed slaves. This slave is still alive and is known as the 'Widow of the waterfront' It was quite scandalous—a slave owner marrying a slave. In their eyes, slaves aren't even considered human. This caused quite a stir in the Black Wall, comparable to a man marrying his... 'Wine Cup.'"

As everyone laughed, the gates of the Black Wall opened, and two nobles on the backs of elephants led a procession out. These men were Nyessos and Alios. Once they dismounted, slaves immediately spread carpets on the ground for them; as Triarchs, they were not allowed to touch the ground during their term of office. The two men recognized the Viserys siblings from afar, not only because of their silver hair and purple eyes but also because, with their experience in high positions, they could instantly identify who was leading the group of mercenaries.

The peasants, having never seen such a grand procession, stood there in awe. As Nyessos and Alios approached, the carpet beneath their feet slowly extended forward. "You must be Prince Viserys of House Targaryen?" Nyessos inquired.

Viserys nodded, about to reply, but Alios couldn't help but interject, "And this must be Daenerys, the Princess of the Targaryens?"

Chapter 115: Viserys Felt Pity for “Himself”

Of all the Free Cities, Braavos and Volantis were the farthest apart. The fact that Viserys had claimed both crowns was not yet widely known here. However, the two Triarchs had already heard the news on the road. As soon as they met him, they began showering him with excessive praise.

It had to be said that politicians who had to campaign for their positions were skilled at this. Their flattery and choice of words were particularly refined, far better than the mercenaries who merely shouted, "Long live!"

Sometimes, Viserys had to pause to realize that the other person was complimenting him. Both men were pleasing to the eye and had a charm about them, like a gentle breeze. But flattery was flattery, and meanwhile, they had sent someone to verify the identity of the pirates. The results were positive.

"The gods have blessed you with bravery, and the people of Volantis will no longer have to worry about pirates for years to come!"

"Yes, it won't be long before the fame of Prince Viserys and the Windblown spreads across the continent!"

The two men spoke in turn, making Viserys feel a bit embarrassed. But praise was praise, and the reward could not be overlooked. Viserys spoke humbly:

"This is the result of the hard work of both me and the soldiers of the mercenary group. In fact, the dozen or so of us you see here could not have accomplished this alone. Most of our soldiers are still on the ship, waiting for our good news."

The two men knew it was time to pay. Alios said:

"Lord Viserys, our estimate of the bounty for these pirates is about 300,000 gold coins. It will take some time to raise the full amount, but we can pay you a portion first. What do you think? Don't worry, we'll have the full amount in three days!"

A guard with a tiger tattoo on his face took out a large chest, opened it, and the golden light reflected on Viserys' face. It was filled with gold coins, roughly 30,000 at a glance. No wonder it was worth over 300,000 gold coins; they were smaller than gold dragons! Everyone behind him leaned forward to look, but having already looted the pirates, a small chest of gold coins was not that shocking.

Then Viserys did something that surprised the two Triarchs and shocked Jorah.

"Ser Mormont, take these coins and bring the brothers on the ship to the city to have fun. Spend it all."

Jorah was stunned. 'This is a full chest of gold!' He had been secretly trading slaves for nearly ten years and had never made this much money. If he had earned this much earlier, his wife might not have left him.

"Oh, and remember to leave some brothers to guard the ship. When we return, we'll celebrate with those who stayed behind."

"Understood."

Jorah held the chest of gold coins. Though it was heavy, he felt invigorated. The two Triarchs watched Viserys's actions in amazement. He spent tens of thousands of gold coins as if they were nothing, showing that this young man was very adept at winning people over.

"Prince Viserys, I have prepared carriages for the soldiers," Alios said, pointing to five or six carriages behind him.

"Everyone, get in the carriages!" Viserys ordered.

Everyone was tired from walking, and they grinned widely at the sight of the carriages. Especially when they noticed the slave girls serving tea inside, their joy was uncontainable. However, there was one exception. Viserys noticed that Caggo remained motionless.

"I'm not getting in the carriage," Caggo declared.

The Dothraki believed that anyone who rode in a carriage was a coward, except for pregnant women. In the original story, Viserys even earned the nickname "King of the Sour Legs" for asking the Horselord for a carriage ride.

"No problem. Get a horse for this brave warrior!"

As soon as Nyessos saw Caggo, he knew this was a fierce mercenary. As if anticipating this, he had his servant bring a red horse. Caggo mounted the horse, stroked its mane, and seemed very satisfied.

At this point, Nyessos waved his somewhat rounded hand again, and two sedan chairs, carried by twelve slaves, approached the brother and sister. The sedan chairs were covered with velvet and wrapped in blue silk. The armrests were decorated with golden tassels. Every inch of it exuded luxury.

Viserys thought he had seen the world in Braavos, but he had no idea that these slave owners were so extravagant.

Dany glanced at Viserys, and after receiving his approving nod, she took her seat on one of the sedan chairs. Viserys settled into the other, and as for the Black Wall, he thought he'd find an opportunity to touch it later.

Once the siblings were seated, the slaves smoothly lifted the sedan chairs, providing a comfortable ride. Viserys and Dany rode at the front, followed by the two Triarchs on their elephants, with a carriage carrying Caggo and the remaining slaves who bore the heads of the pirates. They passed through a dark tunnel within the Black Wall, officially entering its confines.

Viserys was filled with excitement. Seated in the sedan chair, he looked around, savoring what he imagined to be the last breath of Valyria. Inside the Black Wall, the road was solid and flat, lined with street lamps on both sides. However, these lamps stood no more than three meters high. Viserys noticed that the greenery within the Black Wall was well-maintained, with some flowers blooming that he had never seen before. Functioning fountains were also visible not far away.

As they traveled, countless people cast curious glances at Viserys and Dany—expressions of astonishment, envy, curiosity, and greed. But when they learned the reason for Viserys' invitation into the Black Wall, those looks turned into awe. With only a hundred or so men, he had stormed the pirate gathering and slain nearly all of them, a feat the entire Volantis navy could not accomplish.

Viserys suddenly wondered what it had been like when Dany and her brother arrived at the Black Wall in the original story. 'Were they riding in a carriage? Did they wait outside the Black Wall for a long time? What was the attitude of the guards?' he thought. 'I doubt they were greeted by the two Triarchs.' Glancing at Dany seated beside him, Viserys reflected that the Viserys from the original tale had not had an easy time. Though that Viserys had been mad, aside from the incident with the Horselord, he had never considered selling his sister.

Illyrio came to mind suddenly. 'This man took the siblings into his mansion and sheltered them for over half a year. During that time, was Viserys bombarded with suggestions to marry off his sister? After all, since the day I arrived in this world, every time I've met Illyrio, he's brought up marriage.'

Dany, seeming a bit uneasy, turned to look at Viserys as if seeking reassurance. When she noticed him already looking at her, she felt comforted. Remembering the royal mannerisms Viserys had taught her, she straightened in her seat, ignoring the stares from the people on the street. She began to feel more at ease.

At that moment, a slave with a long sword tattooed on his face approached Viserys' sedan chair and said, "Prince Viserys, we will go to the Cloud Tea House next, and this evening, the Lord Triarch will host a banquet."

Chapter 116: Is This a Test of Sainthood?

According to the slave's description, the Cloud Tea House was originally constructed during the Valyrian era as a place where Dragonlords would take their tea breaks. After Valyria's fall, the locals divided it up, and it is now used by Volantis as an official venue to entertain important guests. The dragon relief stone pillars at the entrance and the human-faced dragon statues seem to whisper stories of a bygone age.

Regis, Caggo, and several others were led to a spacious hot spring, while Viserys and Dany were taken to a more secluded area. Viserys was given his own expansive bath, where several female slaves attended to him, their hands moving over his sculpted body with towels as though they were about to immerse themselves in their task. Such a physique was uncommon among the nobles within the Black Wall.

Seeing the thin, almost translucent clothing clinging to the slaves' bodies and accentuating their graceful curves, Viserys closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on other matters. According to Nyessos, his bounty should arrive soon. He no longer needed to worry about the human heads and could now sell the treasures from the ship. He would have to ask Jorah to keep an eye on the weapons and armor. Later, he planned to visit the temple of R'hllor to meet the Patriarch and learn fire magic, but there was no rush—he had only just arrived in Volantis.

As these thoughts passed through his mind, a soft voice called out, "Prince, Prince~" Opening his eyes, he saw two women in gauzy robes standing before him—one was voluptuous like an hourglass, the other slender like a willow. Their eyes were captivating, and it was clear they were well-trained.

When Viserys opened his eyes, the curvaceous woman spoke, "Prince, I am Selysia, and she is Mya. We are here to serve you."

"You both are?" he inquired.

"Yes," they replied in unison.

Suddenly, with a splash, Viserys stood up, and water streamed down his body, tracing the lines of his sculpted muscles. The light accentuated his physique, causing both women to gasp in surprise. Without hesitation, Viserys pulled them into the pool, one in each arm, and, holding Selysia by the chin, asked, "You're not just here to serve me. What else are you here for?"

The two women were startled. They had expected Viserys to be a lecherous man, but instead, he was clear-headed and composed. Realizing that the young man before them was not to be underestimated, they began to move their hands over Viserys' body with the fluidity of water snakes.

"Prince, we are indeed here to serve you, but we also have a message from Lord Nyessos," they admitted.

"Speak," Viserys commanded.

"The Lord's message is this..." they began, speaking in perfect unison. Their coordination was impressive; no matter where one left off, the other picked up seamlessly. Viserys thought they would make an excellent duo in a crosstalk performance.

As they finished delivering their message, Viserys realized just how shrewd these politicians were. Nyessos had taken the initiative, hoping Viserys would claim he had been in contact with him before the pirate massacre. Nyessos wanted to take credit for the victory and use it to bolster his chances for re-election. As for the other two Triarchs, they were indifferent as long as the voting elites believed in their version of events. With Viserys as a witness and the "evidence" in place, any suspicions would lack the proof needed to challenge the narrative. To sweeten the deal, Nyessos had prepared an additional 50,000 gold coins as a "gift." Viserys would gain wealth, and Nyessos would gain prestige—a win-win situation.

Feeling that everything was falling into place, Viserys was in high spirits. After all, who wouldn't be pleased to receive 50,000 gold coins effortlessly? After two hours of splashing in the bath, Viserys emerged refreshed, leaving Selysia and Mya behind, utterly exhausted and content, lying like languid pools of water.

Viserys, draped in a loose robe, entered the tea room. A short while later, a silver-haired girl of about seventeen or eighteen appeared. She had the look of Valyrian blood, except for her striking green eyes. Her demeanor reminded Viserys of Selysia and Mya. He mused that since Nyessos had already accomplished his goal, he wouldn't bother sending two groups. "Did Alios also send you?" he asked.

The girl looked startled but quickly regained her composure. "Yes, Lord Alios asked me to serve you, Prince."

"You must have other tasks as well?" Viserys probed.

"I came mainly to serve you..."

They nearly spoke over each other, leaving the silver-haired girl momentarily flustered.

"Then come here..." Viserys instructed.

After another hour of conversation, Viserys understood Alios's intentions. Alios had heard about Viserys's double victory at the recent festival and admired his talent, particularly after hearing three of his songs. The Lord hoped Viserys could compose a piece for his re-election campaign.

"The Lord... mainly wants to win over some nobles and commoners involved in shipping, so he hopes the Prince can compose with that in mind," the girl explained.

"No problem!" Viserys agreed, observing the girl's glazed eyes as she struggled to complete her sentence. He realized she must have endured much to be trained like this. 'The cruelty of slavery!' he thought. Alios's offer, however, seemed a bit stingy, with only 30,000 gold coins on the table.

After dressing and leaving the tea room, Viserys spotted Dany. Despite their time together, it was the first time he had seen her looking so relaxed.

"Brother, the maid in the tea house gave me a massage. It was so soothing," Dany said, her voice carrying a note of contentment.

"You're lucky. I've been giving massages instead of getting them," Viserys quipped.

"Ah?" Dany blinked in confusion. Wasn't Viserys a customer too?

"But it's fine. I made quite a bit of money," he added.

Dany felt a pang of guilt. Her brother was always focused on restoring their kingdom, while she was simply indulging herself.

"No, no, it's not what you think," Viserys quickly reassured her, sensing her unease. He explained that he had struck a deal with the Triarch of Volantis, earning some money, but it had nothing to do with giving massages.

Relieved, the siblings met up with Caggo and the others before boarding the carriage to attend the banquet prepared by Nyessos.

Chapter 117: A Blatant Lie

"Who else is attending this banquet besides the nobles?" Viserys asked the servant who had come to greet him.

"The Lord Benerro, the High Priest of the Temple of R'hllor."

"Benerro!" Viserys was taken aback. He had assumed that a religious leader of such stature would be far too high-profile to attend a banquet just to see a descendant of the Dragonlord. But after a moment's reflection, it made sense.

Viserys had recently led a group on a daring mission to execute a band of pirates during a gathering. It was a task nearly impossible for others—if not because of the difficulty in locating the pirate's hideout, then because of the challenge of infiltrating it with dozens of people. The pirate leaders were highly selective about who they allowed into their ranks. Bringing too many people would arouse suspicion, while too few would have been futile. Yet Viserys succeeded, leaving many intrigued.

On further thought, it was natural for Volantis, often referred to as the "eldest daughter" of Valyria, with its deep magical heritage, to be sensitive to such events. This was a fortunate turn for Viserys, as it saved him the trouble of seeking out the High Priest himself.

The gathering was held at the Nyessos residence. Through the carriage window, Viserys noticed that the streetlights had already been lit for some time. The carriage moved smoothly along the flat road and soon arrived at its destination. When Viserys and Daenerys stepped out, they were greeted by an entrance carved into the shape of a massive dragon's head. To enter, they would have to pass through the dragon's open mouth. Flanking the dragon's head were two statues of human-faced dragons.

The people of Volantis were indeed the most inventive, eager to incorporate dragon motifs into every corner of the city. Even the street lamps outside Nyessos' house were cast in the shape of dragons, with light pouring from their mouths, giving them an imposing appearance.

Viserys could hear music from the ballroom, even though they were still several dozen meters away. It was evident that many people had gathered inside. After all, the Triarchs were hosting the event, and many had come to show their support or catch a glimpse of the Dragonlord descendants, Viserys and his sister.

Before they even entered the ballroom, the servant at the door announced, "Prince Viserys Targaryen, Princess Daenerys Targaryen has arrived..."

For a moment, the banquet fell into silence. Every head turned toward the door, and hundreds of eyes fixed on the siblings. As Viserys crossed the threshold, he felt as though he had triggered a switch. Not only did the nobles cease their conversations to stare, but even the musicians paused. It was clear that this was orchestrated by the host.

Viserys scanned the room, noting that most of the guests wore formal robes. This was partly to show respect for Nyessos and Alios, but also to underscore the importance of the Targaryen siblings. Initially, the crowd seemed to regard them with the curiosity reserved for rare animals. However, when they learned that Viserys had led a successful raid against a band of pirates, their expressions shifted to one of awe.

'The dragon is still young, but it has already bared its fangs,' Viserys mused, remaining composed under the intense scrutiny of the nobles. Nyessos and Alios, observing his calm demeanor, were both impressed. Yet, they were also perplexed. Despite the rumors about Viserys' ordeal at the teahouse, he neither appeared weak nor trembled; instead, he seemed energized. It was clear that only someone of his caliber could win the championship in swordsmanship.

Of course, Dany was also the subject of much curiosity. Since Viserys had gone to fight the pirates, many wondered why he had brought her along. The nobles of Volantis speculated about the role she had played in all of this.

"Prince Viserys! Princess Daenerys!" Nyessos called out, striding toward them. Seizing the opportunity to solidify his alliance with Viserys, Nyessos took his hand and loudly declared, "Prince Viserys, please allow me to express my gratitude for freeing the people of Volantis from the pirates." As he spoke, Nyessos gave Viserys a subtle wink, though he faced away from the crowd. Viserys returned a knowing and reassuring glance.

"Lord Nyessos, you are too kind. The true fortune of Volantis lies in having a Triarch like you who cares so deeply for the people. If not for your leadership, I doubt I would have taken action against those pirates."

Nyessos' eyes gleamed with satisfaction, thinking, 'This Targaryen is on the right track!' The others leaned in, eager to hear more of the story. Meanwhile, Alios suddenly realized he had been too conservative. He had never imagined that such an old politician could be so shameless. Alios had only intended for Viserys to bolster his campaign, but Nyessos had the audacity to claim credit for the pirate beheading!

'Bah!' Alios thought to himself. He had already rehearsed the lines Selysia and Mya were told in the bathhouse, so now he just needed to play along.

"Everyone, as you know, Prince Viserys has wiped out nearly half of the world's pirates! It must have been an exhilarating battle. Prince, would you be so kind as to tell us about it?"

"Yes!"

"Please, Prince."

"Please!"

Most of the crowd cheered out of politeness, eager to keep up appearances, but there were a few who were genuinely interested in how Viserys had achieved what seemed like an impossible feat. Among them was Benerro, clad in a red robe. He likely understood the pirates' rigorous defenses and their vigilance during gatherings. Viserys couldn't have brought more than fifty men to the pirate's stronghold—perhaps not even thirty.

But how had he managed to kill over two hundred pirates without raising an alarm? It was highly suspicious. Benerro had seen the pirates' heads, and there were no traces of magic on them. Either Viserys possessed an extraordinary level of magical power, or he had employed some unusual method.

As the spokesperson for the Temple of R'hllor, Benerro had his own reasons for interest. He had ongoing conflicts with the Triarchs of the two ruling parties. Politically, his promotion of the Red God's faith encroached on the voter base of these parties. Economically, the Temple of R'hllor purchased slaves and property, all while avoiding taxes. Such a powerful entity was naturally something Benerro wanted to control for his own security.

Nyessos waved his hand, and several slaves carried out wooden boxes, stacking them to form a temporary half-meter-high platform for Viserys.

"Prince, please satisfy everyone's curiosity."

Viserys was aware of what some of these men were thinking, but the secret of the poison gas would only be revealed to the highest bidder. He stepped up to the platform and began recounting how he had disguised himself as a pirate to infiltrate the Orange Shore Bay, emphasizing how he had used the dragon eggs he had acquired to conceal his identity. When it came to the climactic beheading, he attributed the success to the crossbows his men had brought along.

At this point, a young nobleman interjected, "But, my Lord, didn't the pirates wear any armor? And if someone was hit by an arrow, wouldn't they scream?" He glanced at a nearby girl, as if trying to impress her.

'What a fool!' Viserys thought, slightly irritated. Judging by the noble's age, he had probably just inherited his title and was eager to show off his wit.

"The soldiers I brought with me are all highly skilled marksmen. If they aim directly at the opponent's throat, won't that silence them immediately?"

Viserys's explanation still had its flaws. How could his men have simultaneously shot everyone in the throat? It seemed absurd. The young noble wanted to press further, but those around him discreetly advised him to drop the matter. After all, in social settings, it's common for people to speak nonsense, and anyone who points out such blatant lie is often ignored.

"Of course, the primary reason I was determined to eliminate these pirates was because of Lord Nyessos." Viserys continued, turning the focus toward Nyessos. "Lord Nyessos, concerned for the people of Volantis, sought me out, leading to this epic achievement!"

As he spoke, Viserys directed the crowd's attention to Nyessos, who waved and smiled, as if this were merely his duty and nothing worth mentioning—acting the part of a humble servant of the people.

"To Lord Nyessos!" someone in the crowd shouted, raising a glass in toast.

"To Lord Nyessos!" Alios and the others echoed, lifting their glasses in thanks. Many in the room had already begun to understand what was happening, and even Dany sensed that something wasn't quite right.

After Viserys finished recounting the story of the pirate raid, many guests approached him with questions. He answered them all, but when Benerro, still dressed in his red robes, stepped forward, the other nobles instinctively moved aside.

'Finally!' Viserys's spirits lifted. Here was a true fire mage. Although the Red Comet had yet to appear and the dragon eggs hadn't hatched, Benerro could still perform minor magic with the remnants of the world's fading magic. If Viserys could learn fire magic from him, it would be worth tossing all the loot from the pirate raid into the sea.

The only thing that bothered Viserys was Benerro's overwhelming tattoos. Benerro's pale skin was covered with flame patterns that extended across his face and head, particularly over his lips. Tattoos in this world were wild and imaginative, often too much for the eyes.

"Prince Viserys, allow me to introduce myself," Benerro began. "I am Benerro, the High Priest of the Red Temple in Volantis."

Chapter 118: Red Dragon Egg

Benerro had anticipated that uncovering how Viserys had managed to kill the pirates would take some time, but he was caught off guard when Viserys offered to make a trade.

"I don't know what the Prince wants in return," Benerro said, sensing that Viserys had already set his sights on something specific.

"I want to learn fire magic."

"May I ask why?" Benerro was genuinely surprised. He knew Viserys had spent years trying to reclaim his lost kingdom, hoping to rally support for retaking the Iron Throne. He had expected Viserys to ask for gold or weapons, not for the knowledge of fire magic.

Given the current decline of both magic and alchemy, Viserys' request seemed imprudent. Yet, Benerro wasn't about to pass up such an opportunity.

"Revenge," Viserys replied, his eyes serious. "If I can't reclaim the Iron Throne, I want vengeance for my loved ones."

Benerro could see the sincerity in Viserys' gaze. After the fall of the Targaryens, many had suffered. Aerys had been killed by his own Kingsguard, Jaime; Rhaegar had fallen to Robert's hammer; and Rhaegar's wife and children had been brutally murdered by the Mountain. Such deep-seated hatred was hard to forget.

"Yes, but I must inform you," Benerro cautioned, "before you can learn fire magic, you need to know High Valyrian, which takes considerable time to master. Moreover, most of the powerful fire magic—like conjuring ladders of flames or enchanting weapons with fire—has been lost. What remains are only minor spells, such as controlling the flame of a candle."

"Why?" Viserys asked, though he already knew the answer. He wanted to see if Benerro had more insight.

"I don't know," Benerro admitted. "But I must ask, are you certain you still wish to proceed with this exchange?"

"Yes! I won't pass up any opportunity to grow stronger!"

With that, they reached an agreement. Two days later, Benerro would provide Viserys with a set of manuscripts on fire magic and personally teach him High Valyrian over three days. Viserys was thrilled—fire magic was finally within his grasp!

Viserys couldn't help but fantasize about the ancient magics of Valyria: fire magic and blood magic, the spirit magic of the First Men, the water magic of the Rhoynar, and the shadowbinding arts. He recalled one of the most striking scenes from the Game of Thrones—the shadow magic of the Red Witch. This magic was a deadly weapon for ordinary people, capable of killing almost anyone. But it came at a steep price: the blood of a king.

'Who would birth the shadow? It can't be me, can it?' Viserys wondered, shaking his head.

He wasn't interested in using shadow magic, and at most, he was merely considering how to defend himself. To him, assassination was rarely a true solution. Often, the leader of a faction was merely a representative of a larger group's interests. Killing one would only see another rise in their place. True victory came only by utterly defeating one's enemies.

Moreover, Viserys believed that to survive the long night, one needed to accumulate power. Only by suppressing the ambitions of others could one endure. And only by acquiring as much magical knowledge as possible before the arrival of the Red Comet could one gain a decisive advantage in the future.

After the banquet, Viserys announced to the nobles that he would hold an auction featuring the spoils of war taken from the pirates. Nyessos, having benefited from Viserys' recent generosity, eagerly offered his assistance. He was especially pleased to learn that Viserys wasn't interested in exchanging the loot for money but rather for weapons and armor. With the Tiger Party's influence in decline, the armaments of Volantis had grown neglected, leaving many weapons and pieces of armor unused. Though some were old, they could easily be refurbished. Clearing out this inventory would be a win for both Nyessos and Viserys.

As for Alios, he watched with growing irritation as Viserys and Nyessos continued to forge a close alliance. Meanwhile, the "campaign theme song" Viserys had promised was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, Alios invited Viserys to his home the following day.

"Lord Alios, I wonder if you might have any dragon eggs?" Viserys inquired, assuming that the elite of the Free Cities, being closest to Valyria, might possess such treasures. In the century since Valyria's fall, the Free Cities had enjoyed a significant advantage over others, so it was likely that some nobles had dragon eggs in their possession.

"The Prince is asking this because...?" Alios probed.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to part with one, should you have it," Viserys replied.

Alios, of course, politely declined. Viserys wasn't surprised—had he acquired a dragon egg, he would have used it to boost his attributes. Though he believed attribute points would become less useful once they reached 100, the potential development of blood magic might change that, making these points valuable for things like saving lives. Trading a few points for a loyal subordinate with max loyalty would be a worthwhile exchange.

Realizing he wouldn't obtain the egg, Viserys settled for a compromise. He asked if he could at least see the dragon egg. Alios agreed, offering the excuse that observing the egg might inspire him to compose better music.

A servant soon brought out a delicate box adorned with a dragon relief, clearly designed for holding such a treasure. When the black box was opened, it revealed a red dragon egg, resembling a massive piece of red agate.

Viserys touched the egg and opened his panel, seeing that his Assignable Points had increased by nearly 25, indicating the egg's high quality. This was the fourth dragon egg Viserys had encountered. In case something happened to Illyrio, he now knew where to find dragon eggs.

Seeing the look of pure joy on Viserys' face as he handled the egg, Alios grew suspicious of the prince's motives, though he couldn't voice his doubts. Shortly after, Alios got the result he desired.

"I've got it! Fetch the harp!" Viserys exclaimed, having composed a song that greatly pleased Alios. However, Viserys, not content with his progress, made another request.

"May I keep this dragon egg for a while? Say, five years? I promise to return it after that."

"Prince Viserys, I'm truly sorry. This dragon egg belongs to my house, not just to me. However, I can offer you additional gifts to express my apology," Alios replied.

Realizing there was no way around this, Viserys reluctantly let the matter drop.

With the manuscript on fire magic now in his possession, Viserys lost all interest in socializing and eagerly began his studies.

Chapter 119: Fire Magic: Starting with a Candle

After some time studying, Viserys discovered that Valyrian and High Valyrian were pronounced completely differently, almost as distinct as modern and ancient Chinese. But this didn't trouble him much, given that Valyria had been extinct for hundreds of years. Moreover, High Valyrian was only spoken by a small group of Valyrians, which had hastened its decline.

After three days of study, Viserys had barely reached an introductory level in High Valyrian. He realized he would need to improve his proficiency by several hundred points before he could fully comprehend even some of the simpler manuscripts. According to the basic texts, controlling fire seemed to be easier than creating it, and beginners were advised to start by practicing with candles.

Viserys took out two candles and lit one of them, placing the other about a foot away. He was practicing the most basic "fire-making technique," which involved using the flame of one candle to ignite the other from a distance of about a foot.

Benerro had demonstrated this technique for Viserys, explaining that mastering it would lay the foundation for more advanced fire magic. Most novices took about a year to achieve this, but when Viserys asked how long it had taken Benerro, the High Priest had proudly boasted of his success in less than a month.

On his first attempt, Viserys saw no effect on the burning candle. On his second, a thumb-sized flame flared up, scorching a few strands of his hair. By the third attempt, the flame began to stretch toward the unlit candle like a glowing tentacle, drawn as if by some unseen force.

The tentacle grew longer and thinner, reaching five or six inches before narrowing to the thickness of a chopstick. Viserys felt the strain building, not in his body, but in his spirit. As the tentacle extended to seven or eight inches, it became as thin as a quill. At nine inches, just as it was about to touch the other candle's wick, the burning candle shortened rapidly from the intense flame. Viserys had to stop, his magical energy depleted. Fortunately, with the help of the Moon Chant, his energy was quickly replenished.

"Let's try again."

He took a deep breath and replaced the candle. This time, he instinctively added a spiral of air around the flame tentacle, stabilizing it. The tentacle maintained the thickness of a thumb and was much more controlled. With this technique, he successfully lit the candle using less than half the magical energy of his previous attempt.

"Only the second day, and if Benerro knew about this, he'd be stunned." Viserys thought with a smile, though he wasn't about to rest on his laurels. He checked his progress and saw a new skill had appeared on his panel:

Pyromancer: - Beginner (23/100) +

"What are you waiting for? Add more." he commanded.

Pyromancer: - Proficient (398/1000)

Viserys was elated.

It had been easier than expected.

Now at the Proficient level, Viserys found playing with candles unsatisfying. He lit a brazier and began manipulating the flames within. He effortlessly created a three-foot-long flame tentacle and felt little strain. Then he conjured two tentacles, then three, and eventually five.

Viserys discovered that his current limit was seven tentacles at once. Each tentacle was as thick as a wrist and five or six feet long, twisting and writhing like the limbs of a sea monster. He tried shaping the flames into more complex forms, such as a fire dragon, but found that it required more advanced control than he currently possessed. However, he had no difficulty crafting two serpentine fire snakes.

A bright fire snake emerged from the brazier, and Viserys guided it to slither around the room. After covering about ten meters, the fire snake dissipated on its own. This range was impressive, sufficient for nefarious tasks like "killing and burning." However, it fell short in a battlefield context, where it could easily be extinguished with a single step, and armor wouldn't ignite so easily.

For now, simply controlling the flames was enough. The ability to see the future in the flames, like the Red Witch or Benerro, required significant magical power—something Viserys couldn't yet achieve.

He then turned his attention to his Valyrian steel sword. In the TV series, only two people were shown to "enchant weapons with flames": the "The Lord of Corpses," Beric, and the Red Witch.

The Red Witch's enchantment was more advanced, as she empowered an entire Dothraki cavalry. Enchanting ordinary weapons with fire seemed to be effective against White Walkers, but against ordinary armored foes, the benefit was more cosmetic than practical—adding style rather than substance.

However, Viserys had noticed that when he infused magic into the Valyrian steel sword, it vibrated slightly. Curious, he decided to experiment further.

Holding the sword in his right hand, he lightly touched the blade with his left, and the blade was immediately engulfed in yellow flames. When Viserys swung the sword, the burning "fire sword" doubled in length, and the extended fiery blade had a considerable cutting power. His suspicions were confirmed—Valyrian steel had excellent "magic conductivity." Though the move seemed to have limited raw power, Viserys saw it as a deceptive tactic.

In combat, most swordsmen gauge the length of their opponent's weapon. With his enchanted weapon, Viserys could extend the sword unexpectedly, catching his opponent off guard and delivering a fatal blow as they attempted to retreat.

'It's a shame I can't emit something like a flame sword aura,' Viserys mused, imagining how his weapon had upgraded from a cold weapon to a hot one as he brushed the blade back and forth.

He then tested the enchantment on his halberd, but it didn't produce the same effect. It became clear that he might need to consider creating a specialized halberd in the future. On the battlefield, weapons like spears, halberds, and hammers often proved more practical.

After some experimentation, Viserys decided to take a short break and check on his "friend"'s whereabouts. If his "friend" had headed directly to the Ruins of Doom after leaving Orange Shore Bay, he should be arriving soon.

Chapter 120: Euron’s “Incarnation”

Viserys took a deep breath, calming himself before observing his surroundings more closely. He realized that Euron appeared to be inside a cave, faintly hearing the sound of waves crashing nearby. This suggested that they were either on an island or near the shore. In front of Euron stood a row of crosses, each one bearing a naked figure bound to it. Blood dripped from their mouths, staining their chins and necks a deep red.

In their current state, it was impossible to identify who these people were, but Viserys suspected they were the same pirates who had attended the party recently.

A servant followed Euron, bowing low in a mix of respect and fear, holding a clay bowl at chest height. The bowl contained several bloody tongues. Euron circled around one of the crosses and then lowered the person tied to it. He crouched down, pressing a finger to the man's forehead. Only then did Viserys notice that Euron's fingernails were completely black.

As Euron's grip tightened, the unfortunate man's eyes rolled back, and a soul-wrenching scream erupted from his mouth.

Then, something strange happened. Viserys noticed that his "Dragon Dreams" perspective had shifted. Typically, when he used Dragon Dreams, his vantage point was always above his target's head, but now it had moved! After a few breaths, Viserys found himself looking down at the naked pirate lying on the ground, with a clear view of Euron's face.

The ear that once held Euron's eyepatch had been torn off by Viserys, forcing Euron to use a special headband to hang the cloth down and cover his damaged eye. Viserys still didn't fully understand what powers this eye possessed, aside from its ability to harm a Skinchanger. However, what perplexed him even more was how his Dragon Dreams perspective had suddenly shifted.

As Viserys pondered this, he saw the tortured pirate suddenly rise to his feet!

'Wait! Could Euron's consciousness have transferred?' Viserys thought, alarmed.

In the series, Bran Stark is the only character known to control humans through his consciousness, a skill that emerged as he approached his destiny as the Three-Eyed Raven. Yet, here was Euron seemingly performing the same feat. Could Euron also be one of the heirs to the Three-Eyed Raven?

However, there was another troubling paradox. Unlike Bran, who's body became unresponsive when he warged into others, Euron appeared to remain somewhat active even after transferring his consciousness, not becoming a lifeless "corpse" with rolled-back eyes.

Euron, now in his new body, approached the second cross and, following the same procedure, lowered the person bound to it.

Once more, Viserys' Dragon Dreams perspective shifted. This meant that Euron's consciousness had jumped again—or, more precisely, that his "main consciousness" had transferred to a new host.

"Playing with avatars, are you?!" Viserys realized with a shock that Euron was using a terrifying method of control: he was manipulating "Pirate One" to control "Pirate Two," who in turn controlled "Pirate Three," and so on. In this way, Euron could control four pirates simultaneously! The implications were chilling. This ability was far more dangerous than anything the Faceless Men could do. Even when the Faceless Men change faces, they still have to physically approach their target to kill them. But Euron, with his indirect control, could strike from a distance, leaving his enemies helpless. Without Dragon Dreams to rely on, Viserys would have been left clueless, like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, not knowing who was the true threat.

Fortunately, Euron's mastery of this dark skill seemed limited. By the time he controlled the fourth pirate, the pirate's brain was almost completely deteriorated, with the cerebellum practically nonfunctional. The poor man was reduced to a convulsing, almost epileptic, state, barely able to crawl. Euron appeared to attempt controlling a fifth pirate, but he failed.

'Wait, is this how he explored the Ruins of Valyria's Doom?' Viserys speculated.

Euron's method was like using each pirate as a "signal repeater." As the number of repeaters increased, the signal weakened, which explained why he reached his limit with the fourth pirate. It could be that the "pirate repeater" wasn't strong enough, or perhaps Euron's signal source was flawed. However, if either of these could be improved, Euron would be able to control enough pirates to create a "control chain," allowing him to explore dangerous places like the ruins of Valyria without risking his own life.

This line of thought led Viserys to consider the "Weirwood" and the Greenseers of the Children of the Forest. 'How had Euron mastered what seemed to be the core technique of the Three-Eyed Raven?' Viserys wanted to continue observing, but his magic was waning, making it impossible to maintain the vision.

As for the skill of "incarnation," Viserys found it elusive. Not only did he fail to understand the incantations Euron used, but he also questioned why, if this ability was so powerful, Euron hadn't simply crushed his enemies when he returned to the Iron Islands. Instead, Euron had to unite the Ironborn by raiding Arbor. If he could control so many people, why hadn't he simply taken over?

Determined to learn more, Viserys decided to observe Euron once every three days. In the meantime, he visited the Black Wall, but gained no new skills there. Reflecting on his past experiences as a Soul Binder, Viserys concluded that he might need the Valyrian artifacts to advance further. For now, he would have to wait for Euron to find a way to reach Valyria.

In the meantime, there was the matter of the bounty and the auction of the pirate treasure. Nyessos had proven himself highly efficient, liquidating the bounty and treasure within just a few days and converting it into a vast cache of weapons and equipment for Viserys. There was so much that one ship couldn't hold it all, so two ships were sent to deliver the haul, free of charge.

"Prince Viserys, the gates of Volantis are always open to you!"

"Prince Viserys, you will always be our honored guest."

The two Triarchs of the Elephant Party stood on the dock, waving as Viserys departed.

With the pirate threat neutralized, Viserys knew that the war between Tyrosh and Lys would soon escalate. A major battle was on the horizon, and a storm was brewing.

Chapter 121: Why is the Captain Pouring Me Tea?

The old captain, the Tattered Prince, hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, which only deepened the dark circles under his eyes. His expression remained as inscrutable as ever, like a statue chiseled in stone, but his frequent rounds through the camp betrayed his inner turmoil.

It wasn't just him; the entire Windblown Corps was closely watching Viserys's movements. After all, Viserys had taken a significant number of their best soldiers, including four sergeant majors. If they were defeated by the pirates, the Windblown's combat effectiveness would be severely compromised in the short term.

The old captain secretly regretted his decision to take on "this business," realizing it may have been foolish. But he couldn't afford to show his doubt. Instead, he made regular appearances among the mercenaries to keep their morale steady.

As he made his way around the barracks, he came upon Darsent's camp. He noticed the soldiers weren't training but were instead engaged in idle chatter. Rather than reprimanding them immediately, he decided to listen in on their conversation.

Darsent had initially opposed Viserys's decapitation operation, never expecting him to pull off such a feat. Viserys had spent a fortune that could have hired half the Sellswords, taking away only the strength of one battalion.

"Boss, if Caggo and that Viserys don't come back, who do you think the captain will appoint as sergeant major of those battalions?" one soldier asked.

"Heh, it's not going to be you," Darsent replied with a disdainful glance.

In truth, Darsent hoped Viserys wouldn't return. Although the 7th Battalion had been decimated, there were still many capable men in it. Darsent had expected those men to be transferred to his command, but they had been intercepted by Viserys.

Over the past three months, Viserys had indeed rebuilt the Seventh Battalion. The quality of the soldiers and their equipment had significantly improved, and many sergeants were already eyeing the battalion as a desirable "inheritance."

Just then, Darsent heard the sound of a horse snorting. He turned to see the old captain approaching.

"Damn, when did The Tattered Prince show up?" Darsent muttered.

He and the others hurried to rise and greet him, but the old captain simply glanced at them and walked away.

"Captain?" one of the men ventured.

"Captain, my ass! Get back to training!" Darsent barked, his embarrassment evident.

Two days later, a rumor began to spread along the Rhoyne. It claimed that a powerful pirate sorcerer had killed everyone at a party and decapitated many of the pirates. Some versions said the sorcerer had slain at least 500 pirates; others claimed the number was in the thousands. Each version of the tale came with its own set of convincing details.

Regardless of which version was true, the rumors only deepened the Tattered Prince's anxiety. Whether the pirate sorcerer existed or not, the more pressing question was why Viserys and his men hadn't returned if they had already achieved their goal. Could it be that they had fallen victim to this sorcerer as well?

As the rumor spread through the camp, the Tattered Prince found himself spending even more time and energy trying to maintain the troops' morale.

"Commander, let me go find them," Meris volunteered to the Tattered Prince.

"Find them? How? Do you even know where they are?" the old captain replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

"But we can't just sit here and do nothing!" Meris insisted.

"All right! Don't worry about it. If they don't return in two weeks, you and I will head to Tyrosh and recruit some new sergeants."

The Tattered Prince was starting to regret his decision. He should never have let Viserys leave, even for the sake of the money. But at the time, Viserys had been so certain, so confident in his plan. Yet now, it seemed that the unexpected had happened, and who could have predicted they'd encounter a sorcerer? 'Is the bloodline of the Dragonlords about to be cut off?' the old captain mused, unable to suppress a weary sigh.

Three days later, as he was discussing the reorganization of Viserys and Caggo's camps with Denzo, he was preparing to summon Meris to travel to Tyrosh when news suddenly arrived. It was Jorah, who had been following Viserys, who brought it.

"Commander, Lord Viserys has arrived at the port of Tyrosh. We've also brought back a substantial amount of weapons and equipment. He requests that you send someone to receive them."

"Weapons and equipment? What happened? Take your time and explain," the old captain said, pouring Jorah a cup of tea with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Jorah, nearly taken aback, was surprised to have the old captain himself serve him tea. During his time as a mercenary, it was rare to even see the captain, let alone be treated with such courtesy.

As Jorah recounted the events, the Tattered Prince and Denzo listened intently, their expressions shifting from concern to astonishment. The old captain finally understood just how precarious the situation had been, while Denzo, usually so composed, was visibly shaken by Jorah's tale. They couldn't help but picture the tense moments, marveling at Viserys' sheer audacity.

"So you also went to Volantis?" the old captain asked.

"Yes, mainly to secure the equipment. We acquired over 800 sets of plate armor alone, not to mention other weapons." Jorah replied.

When the Tattered Prince heard the number "over 800," his eyes widened in disbelief, and even the deep bags under his eyes seemed to shrink a bit. He exchanged a glance with Denzo, both fully aware of what this meant for the Windblown. With over 800 sets of plate armor, they could immediately expand their forces by 1,000 men, the equivalent of three battalions, significantly boosting their overall strength. And with the looming conflict between Tyrosh and Lys, business opportunities would be plentiful.

But as the old captain's excitement grew, Denzo's mind quickly turned to the potential risks. If Viserys had this much equipment, what was stopping him from starting his own company? When Jorah mentioned that Viserys had arranged for his soldiers to celebrate for seven days in Volantis, Denzo's alarm bells went off. This sounded like a calculated move to win loyalty and perhaps prepare for a power grab. The initial euphoria of acquiring such a large cache of equipment quickly gave way to concern.

He had founded the Windblown with the long-term goal of returning to Pentos and exacting revenge. If he lost control of the Windblown now, lured by the promise of equipment, it would be a devastating blow. The Tattered Prince, now nearing 60, didn't have the luxury of starting a new mercenary group from scratch.

The two men dismissed Jorah, then began strategizing their next steps. "The key now is to make Caggo and the others remember that they are still part of the Windblown," Denzo remarked.

The old captain nodded in agreement. Seizing the equipment outright was out of the question—it would deal a severe blow to the Windblown's reputation. Alienating Viserys could push him to the other side, and such a move would undoubtedly distance the other mercenaries from their leadership.

"Let's take more men with us," the old captain decided.

Chapter 122: Sharing Wealth

"Boss! The Tattered Prince just left with Caggo's battalions and the two of Gerrold's battalions!" a soldier exclaimed.

"Left? Where did he go?" Darsent asked, surprised.

"I think it's because Viserys is back. I saw his attendant, Jorah Mormont."

"He's back?" Darsent muttered, his mind racing. If Viserys had returned, why did the old captain feel the need to personally greet him—and bring so many men along?

The Tattered Prince had taken Caggo's battalions and the two of Gerrold's battalions with him to escort the equipment and remind Viserys and the others that they still belonged to the Windblown. The old captain was most concerned that Viserys might use the equipment to distance himself from the group, which would be a significant loss—one that no amount of gold could compensate.

Hundreds of men arrived at the port in a formidable procession, ready to receive the cargo. When the old captain saw the various weapons and suits of armor being unloaded from the ship like a steady stream, he couldn't help but marvel at the scale of the haul and the danger Viserys must have faced. He attributed the success to Viserys' extraordinary bravery.

Most mercenaries provided their own gear, and the Tattered Prince's greatest asset was his leadership and experience. Despite years of accumulating resources, his personal holdings barely matched the value of the equipment Viserys had brought back.

While this influx of supplies wouldn't necessarily elevate Viserys' prestige above the Tattered Prince's, it would certainly boost his standing among the troops. After this operation, at least four of the seven battalions held a favorable impression of Viserys.

When the Tattered Prince saw the men disembarking, he was relieved to find that their numbers were nearly the same as when they had left. There were hardly any losses, and most of the soldiers wore brand-new armor, their pouches bulging with spoils. It was clear they had profited greatly from the mission.

"Dany!" Meris called out, rushing over to check on her. Seeing that Dany was uninjured, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Meris, I'm fine. I've even grown taller. Look," Dany said with a smile, gesturing to show how much she had grown.

Meris touched Dany's head and was surprised to find it nearly reached her chest.

The Tattered Prince couldn't help but feel a warmth at the sight, but his concern quickly returned to Viserys' true intentions. Even if Viserys insisted he wasn't trying to "seize power," his continued presence with the Windblown would always be a potential threat. Yet, getting rid of him would alienate the others and create further discord.

The old captain suddenly realized that Viserys had only been with the Windblown for less than half a year, but it felt much longer. 'That young man is a magnet for trouble.' Deciding to test Viserys's intentions, he dismissed the others for the moment.

Soon, Viserys, Caggo, and the others approached him. The old captain was relieved to see they were unharmed.

"You can return to your respective camps," the Tattered Prince said.

"Yes, captain," they replied in unison, understanding that he wanted a private word with Viserys.

"Commander," Viserys said once they were alone, signaling that the old captain could speak freely.

"This operation must have been very dangerous, wasn't it?" the Tattered Prince began.

"Commander, are you asking why I brought back equipment instead of money?" Viserys replied, cutting straight to the point.

The old captain was momentarily taken aback by Viserys' directness. "Yes."

"I want the Windblown," Viserys declared.

The Tattered Prince's expression hardened. "You know what the Windblown means to me, don't you?"

"I do. I know you need an army to avenge yourself and take back Pentos," Viserys said, meeting the old captain's gaze with steady resolve. "And I need an army to reclaim the Iron Throne. But that doesn't mean we have to fight over this army. I know I can't compete with you."

Viserys had never intended to wrest control of the Windblown from the Tattered Prince. He understood that trying to take over the mercenary group would only tear it apart, especially considering the captain had founded it and was synonymous with its name. Forcing a takeover would achieve nothing but division and ruin.

"Obviously, the Windblown's 2,000 men alone aren't enough to take back the Iron Throne. In fact, even if all the major mercenary companies joined forces, it still wouldn't be sufficient. But we do have a real chance to take back Pentos for you first."

It was time for Viserys to show his loyalty. His meaning was clear: he saw the Windblown as a sword, but he intended for the old captain to wield it first. Given that the captain was nearly 60 years old and childless, if he wanted to ensure the group's survival after reclaiming Pentos, he would eventually need to pass leadership to someone capable or find a new purpose for himself. At that point, Westeros would become the next target.

The old captain's worries eased, and a smile flickered in his eyes.

"I'm going to expand the Windblown by two or three battalions. I'll make Jorah and Webber sergeants of the new battalions." Having received Viserys' promise, the old captain decided to return the favor by increasing Viserys' influence within the Windblown.

"Thank you, Captain."

When the guards at the 'Canvas Castle' saw a group of soldiers in gleaming armor approaching, they initially thought they were under attack. But when they recognized the Windblown banner, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

As soon as he returned to the Windblown camp, the old captain called a meeting and announced two important decisions.

"Did you really kill all the pirate leaders?" one of the soldiers asked eagerly.

"Of course. I personally chopped off five or six heads," Viserys replied.

"Brothers, how much loot did you get?" another soldier inquired.

Clatter, clatter.

The soldiers who had accompanied Viserys shook their money bags with a grin and said, "Not much. Just a few hundred gold dragons each."

"A few hundred gold dragons!"

"That's nothing! The men who went in with Lord Viserys got more than a few hundred gold dragons each, plus the initial payment!"

Before the meeting officially began, the mercenaries in the barracks were buzzing with excitement, eager to hear about the loot. When they saw that their typically frugal comrades had suddenly become wealthy, they couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. These men had played their cards right, not only securing generous rewards but also enjoying several days of celebration in Volantis—all at Viserys' expense.

"You've never seen women like the ones in Volantis! They're so good, they'll make you twitch with pleasure!" boasted a mercenary with puffy eyes.

While the ordinary mercenaries were still making noise outside, inside the old captain's tent, all the sergeants who had remained in the barracks had gathered. They were surprised to find that the old captain, who usually arrived last, was already there—and he looked unusually pleased.

Then again, who wouldn't be happy after receiving 800 suits of armor for free?

Darsent, for his part, couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at Viserys' apparent generosity. 'If I had that kind of wealth, I wouldn't need to be a sellsword. I'd just live like a rich man.'

Chapter 123: Next Leader of Windblown

The old captain was elated not just because of the 800 suits of armor he had received, but more importantly, because he had forged an alliance with Viserys. This newfound partnership was more valuable to him than any amount of equipment.

At the age of 23, he had fled Pentos, unwilling to become a puppet prince destined for sacrifice. This decision, however, had undoubtedly put his family in peril. In the stillness of night, the flames of revenge and the weight of remorse gnawed at him, a torment that had only deepened over the years.

Now, at sixty, the Tattered Prince often questioned whether he would ever have the chance to return to Pentos and exact his revenge. Wars between the Free Cities involved tens of thousands of soldiers; deploying his 2,000-strong Windblown wouldn't even make a dent. And as a mercenary commander, he couldn't compel his men to fight purely for his personal vendetta, especially when profit was the driving force.

But as he looked at Viserys, he began to wonder if this young man could be the key to avenging his father. No, not just helping him—helping each other. What had once seemed like an insurmountable challenge now appeared solvable through Viserys's approach of building alliances.

As the last of the men gathered, the old captain cleared his throat and addressed them. "I believe you've all heard that Viserys successfully defeated the pirates, and you've seen the equipment he brought back. Because of this, I plan to expand the Windblown by two additional battalions."

"We're expanding?" The room buzzed with excitement. Expansion meant new positions, and naturally, everyone hoped those positions would be filled by their own people. And even if they weren't, the knowledge that Viserys had brought back 800 suits of armor meant there would be plenty to go around, even after outfitting the new battalions.

As the old captain outlined his expansion plans, Darsent leaned forward, his neck craning like a curious bird. The Tattered Prince took note of the crowd's reactions and continued, "Let's meet the two new sergeants."

He turned toward the entrance of the tent, prompting everyone else to do the same. One of the new sergeants was familiar—Webber. But the second name took everyone by surprise, though the meaning was clear: it was Jorah Mormont!

'How can this be?' Darsent thought, realization dawning on him. The old captain was almost openly backing Viserys's faction. Both new battalions would be led by men from Viserys's former 7th Battalion, and one of them was even his squire.

Darsent couldn't help but wonder what kind of spell Viserys had cast on the old captain. Didn't he realize the implications? With two of the ten sergeants now loyal to Viserys, and Caggo, the two Gerrolds, and Dick already close to him, if the old captain retired tomorrow, Viserys could be elected the new leader in a landslide! This was the kind of power shift entitled to the second-in-command of the Windblown, yet Viserys had only been with them for half a year! The audacity!

Jealousy began to fester in Darsent's heart. He had been with the Windblown for over twenty years and, in private discussions, was seen as second only to Denzo. Now, Viserys's rapid rise even made Denzo seem less significant. Yet, envy aside, who else could have secured 800 suits of armor in one fell swoop?

Unlike Darsent, most of those present viewed the situation with a mix of respect and admiration for the new sergeants and the return of Webber. The two Gerrolds, in particular, welcomed Webber back with hearty slaps on the chest as he passed by.

Webber, for his part, glanced at Viserys and couldn't help but think that if Viserys could make him a sergeant again, perhaps he really could lead him back to Westeros one day. Jorah felt similarly; in just half a year with Viserys, he had earned more money than ever before and had risen to the rank of sergeant.

Now, he wanted nothing more than to attack Lys. His grudge was deep, especially against the man who had taken his wife. Lys' so-called "Merchant Prince," Tregar Ormollen, had given him an impossible choice: either become his slave to pay off his debt or abandon his wife to become his concubine. But now, looking at Viserys, he saw a glimmer of hope for revenge.

As the two men settled down, the old captain shifted to another matter.

"For a long time, Bloodbeard has struggled to cooperate with the pirates. I expect Tyrosh will soon force Lys's forces out of the lake region entirely. In the meantime, all of you should train hard and prepare for the next war."

...

Two more months passed, and word of Viserys infiltrating the pirate gathering and beheading its leaders began to spread. The first to feel the impact was Bloodbeard's Company of the Cat. Initially skeptical, they soon confirmed the truth—there was indeed a bounty on Viserys in Volantis, and the Windblown had been expanding.

Rumors about Viserys grew increasingly outlandish. Some claimed he had led a group of men and infiltrated the pirate gathering as smoke, while others insisted he was an evil sorcerer. Regardless of the exaggerations, one thing was clear: Viserys could enter a lair of tens of thousands of pirates at will. Even if he wasn't as powerful as the rumors suggested, he was undeniably a dangerous madman.

Despite Bloodbeard's bloodthirsty reputation, he couldn't help but feel uneasy about facing such a formidable opponent.

"Captain, should we end our contract with Lys?" asked one of his men, a subordinate who had dyed his beard red in imitation of Bloodbeard.

Bloodbeard slapped him hard. "End our contract with Lys? Are you out of your mind? Lys is still our support. If we sever ties, that lunatic might come after us next!" Taking a deep breath, he added, "Go tell Tregar Ormollen we're willing to sign a one-year contract."

"Yes, Captain!"

Lys' political titles are somewhat unusual. In other Free Cities, the title of "prince" is generally reserved for rulers. But in Lys, the highest political leader is the "Magister," with princes governing different areas beneath him. For instance, Tregar Ormollen is the "Merchant Prince" in Lys and the one who took Jorah's wife.

...

The news of Viserys beheading pirates reached far beyond Lys and the Company of the Cat, even making its way to King's Landing. Robert Baratheon was forced to convene an unprecedented meeting of the Small Council to discuss their response.

"Since the assassins we sent before were useless, why don't we just hire some Faceless Men?" Robert said irritably, sitting at the head of the long table in the Tower of the Hand.

Chapter 124: The Fat Stag and the Queen Must Stay Married

"No! You can't hire the Faceless Men!" exclaimed an elderly man with nearly no teeth and a white beard cascading down his chest. This was Jon Arryn, Robert's foster father and the Hand of the King, Lord of The Eyrie.

Lord Arryn was acutely aware of the dire financial state of the Iron Throne. Since Robert's ascent to the throne, his lifestyle had been nothing short of extravagant. The man had little interest in governance, as if overthrowing the Targaryens had been merely a pretext for indulgence. Despite Lord Arryn's attempts to curb his foster son's growing excesses, his efforts had been largely in vain.

"Why? How much does it cost to kill a sellsword?" Robert asked with a trace of irritation.

"Your Grace," responded another man, older and rosy-cheeked despite his years, "hiring a Faceless Man costs as much as raising an army. And this Viserys—"

"Call him a dragon's spawn!" interrupted the ever-youthful Pycelle, who hastily corrected himself when Robert glared at him.

But a flicker of contempt crossed Pycelle's eyes as he continued. "This dragon's spawn is also the champion of the Swordsmanship Tournament in Braavos and now serves as a sergeant in a mercenary group. The cost would likely be even higher, and our finances for this quarter are already overspent..."

"How can we be in the red again?" Robert demanded, his eyes bulging as his breath came in short gasps. He couldn't fathom why the taxes collected each quarter were never enough, as if the whores' silk robes were made of rags.

"Raise taxes this year!"

"No, we can't raise taxes!" Jon Arryn objected again, causing Robert to lean back in his chair with a deep scowl. The chair groaned under his weight. Arryn felt helpless before his adopted son. Sometimes, he was tempted to call him a usurper outright. And even more troubling was Robert's son, Joffrey. Jon Arryn suspected the boy would prove even worse than his father. Recently, he had also taken on the burden of suppressing the rumors about Cersei and Jaime.

Everyone knew that Robert and the Queen had always had a strained relationship. Now, with the Iron Throne increasingly reliant on the wealth of the Westerlands, Jon Arryn believed that no matter what, Robert and Cersei must remain married.

At this point, Robert suddenly remembered something Varys had told him about Jorah the Bear. He turned to Varys and asked if Jorah had provided any new information. Varys glanced at Jon Arryn, conflicted. He was the spymaster serving Robert and owed loyalty to the king, but Lord Arryn had previously instructed him to keep this from Robert.

"Your Grace, there is no good news from Ser Jorah at present."

'No good news doesn't mean no bad news,' Varys thought to himself. But he knew such vague answers could be dangerous for an advisor. If Robert discovered the truth, he might not be able to stay in King's Landing. But with Robert neglecting state affairs and Lord Arryn running the court, Varys decided to stay silent for now.

"That useless piece of shit!" Robert roared.

'Viserys isn't worth worrying about. He's just another Bittersteel. We have so many problems in the Seven Kingdoms that need solving. The Ironborn are harassing the North, the Reach and Dorne are at odds...' Jon Arryn was exhausted. The issues Robert listed were just the tip of the iceberg.

Robert's plans for his two younger brothers and their future marriages weighed heavily on Jon Arryn's mind. The king seemed determined to entangle Ned Stark's family further. It was clear that the last thing Robert should do was alienate House Tyrell and House Martell, who had only recently sworn allegiance. Jon Arryn suspected that after his death, Robert would waste no time bringing Ned to King's Landing and arranging a marriage with his daughter.

In the end, the meeting reached no resolution. They decided to let Littlefinger select some capable men to attempt an assassination of Viserys.

Outside the council chambers, word of Viserys reached the Kingsguard in the Red Keep. The news shocked Barristan the Bold most of all. In the original tale, the Targaryen siblings had been displaced, making it difficult to hear of them from across the Narrow Sea. But now, Viserys was making waves wherever he went—this was the second time in half a year Barristan had heard his name.

He had served Aerys for many years and knew Queen Rhaella, Viserys' mother, well. Although no news had been confirmed, Barristan couldn't shake the feeling that Queen Rhaella had crowned Viserys on Dragonstone. This was common practice among the royal family. Judging by recent reports, Viserys' courage seemed to rival his own. If he had been a few years older when the rebellion broke out...

"Ser Barristan."

A clear voice interrupted his thoughts. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was—Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. His golden hair was adorned with gold leaf, and his blue eyes sparkled with a gentle brightness. He stood on the Red Keep's training grounds in his white cloak, as if he belonged nowhere else. Barristan's eyes grew cold as he gave Jaime a frosty glance.

"Ser, would you care to spar?"

"Not today. I'm a bit tired. Perhaps another time," Barristan declined almost immediately, as he had done every time Jaime had asked.

"Very well."

Disappointment flickered in Jaime's eyes as he watched Barristan's retreating figure. Since being branded a Kingslayer, few had been willing to associate with him. Though no one dared to show their disdain openly, Jaime knew they all looked down on him.

...

Sunspear, Dorne.

On the coast of Sunspear lies a "fortress," an imposing structure that resembles a jagged boulder. It is said that this was the original stronghold of House Martell before Nymeria's arrival in Dorne. Now, it has been incorporated into Sunspear itself, serving as the residence of House Martell.

About three miles west of Sunspear are the Water Gardens, built by Prince Maron Martell as a gift for his bride, Daenerys. The current Prince, Doran Martell, frequently retreats here to find relief from his worsening gout.

Due to his location, Prince Doran received news of Viserys's activities before word reached King's Landing. At this moment, he was discussing the matter with his cousin, Manfrey Martell, and his eldest daughter, Arianne. Manfrey was close to Doran in age.

"It's likely Myr or Lys," Manfrey speculated.

"Lys? Is he dabbling with poison again?" Doran replied with evident displeasure.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, had once poisoned his own blade during a duel, killing his opponent. Although conclusive evidence was never found, everyone believed Oberyn responsible. Feared for his expertise with poisons, the Red Viper had often caused trouble for House Martell due to his fiery temperament.

"No, Oberyn mentioned that the Myrish have developed a new medicine to ease pain..." As Manfrey spoke, Doran's anger subsided slightly. His brother, it seemed, still exercised some restraint. The pain from his gout was nearly unbearable. When it struck, it felt as though a nail had been driven into his joints, followed by a burning sensation that spread across his body. Worst of all, the pain darted unpredictably, often targeting his head.

To avoid revealing his weakened state, Doran rarely appeared before his advisers.

After a moment of thought, Doran said, "Send someone to find him and have him contact Viserys."

"Understood."

"And also... ugh..." Doran tried to continue, but another bout of pain seized him. Manfrey shouted urgently, "Someone, quickly! Prepare cold water!" Arianne rushed to her father's side. Despite the strained relationship, a bond still existed between them as father and daughter.

Before the ice water arrived, a servant brought a bowl of milk of the poppy to ease Doran's suffering. He drank it almost like water to alleviate the pain. However, after years of using it, his body had built a certain tolerance. As she watched her father's face contort in agony, Arianne could do little but hold him and offer comfort.

As Doran aged, his gout attacks had grown longer and more severe. What began as brief episodes now stretched into hours of excruciating pain, leaving him bedridden for days. During these bouts, Doran, who had ruled Dorne for over a decade, would break down, weeping in despair.

...

Under the guidance of the holy sister Remell, the silver-haired Aegon diligently studied noble etiquette. In Illyrio's eyes, his son was more regal than any noble in Pentos. Yet, recent news about Viserys troubled him.

Illyrio, who had always kept a close watch on Viserys, learned of his movements faster than anyone in Westeros. Pirates! When Illyrio first heard that Viserys had ventured to the "Orange Shore," he feared the worst, thinking Viserys might perish there. He even began to plan for Dany's removal, considering marrying her off.

But when he learned that not only was Viserys safe, but that he was also rumored to have defeated the notorious pirates—a feat achieved by assassinating the pirate leader—Illyrio was both impressed and unsettled.

In the past, Illyrio had seen Viserys as a fish in his pond, one he could catch whenever he pleased. But now, that fish had grown beyond his grasp. If he wasn't careful, he might be the one swallowed, bones and all.

As he pondered whether to have Connington leave the Golden Company and assume a new identity with another mercenary group, a letter from Connington arrived. After quickly reading its contents, Illyrio called out to young Aegon in the courtyard, "Young Griff, your father will be coming to see you soon."

It was a bitter feeling, having his son call another man "father."

Chapter 125: Blood Nourishment

After releasing his Dragon Dream, Viserys decided to keep a close eye on Euron for a while. The man had been tormenting his captives relentlessly, and the pirates' suffering was so extreme that Viserys almost felt compelled to end their misery. Watching Euron's daily acts of cruelty was a punishment for his own spirit, so he chose to focus more on the dragon egg.

Viserys discovered that he could indeed "nurture" the dragon egg through blood magic. The smaller cracks on the earth-colored egg had nearly healed, and even the deeper fissures had noticeably diminished. He retrieved the egg once more, chanting incantations until he conjured a small cup of blood. When he poured the blood onto the egg, it absorbed the liquid like a sponge, as if it were alive.

"This really is pouring my blood into it," Viserys mused with a wry smile. "I suppose I can rightfully call myself the "Father of Dragons" in the future." Despite feeling a faint, almost imperceptible life force within the egg, he still couldn't perform a 'soul binding.'

Examining the egg closely, he noticed that it was no longer entirely earth-colored; bright yellow spots had begun to emerge, growing more vivid over time. After his efforts at nurturing, the egg even showed signs of turning a golden hue. This reminded Viserys of Sunfyre, the golden dragon of House Targaryen. If he could someday ride a golden dragon, it would certainly be a sight to behold.

In fact, besides dragon eggs, Viserys also came up with two special items. One is a special arrow— the Whistling Arrow, which is similar to the 'Arrow of Father's Grief' that Modu Chanyu used to kill his own father. It can be used to make soldiers 'focus fire' on a certain target, which is very useful for creating a breach in the enemy's defense. The second item is the 'Battle Formation Whistle.' With the perspective of a golden eagle, Viserys can perform 'micro-operations,' but since there are no communication devices in this world, he wrote a whistle code to command an elite squad on the battlefield. If used well, this tactic can easily lead to capturing flags and slaying enemy generals.

After more than two months of rigorous training, the two newly established battalions, along with the "cavalry battalion" formed from the elite of the three battalions, had developed a significant level of combat effectiveness. With the whistle score and the Arrow of the Father Worryer in hand, Viserys was now equipped to execute precise battlefield maneuvers. After all, shouting commands at the top of one's lungs in the heat of battle was hardly a reliable strategy.

Viserys, who had lived as a sellsword for two lifetimes, knew that mercenaries were not much different from contract soldiers in some nations. Pay them well enough, and they would do their job. Loyalty, however, was a different matter. When faced with life or death, mercenaries were often the first to flee. The real challenge lay in dealing with the leaders of these sellswords. They might be calling you "boss" one moment and defecting to the enemy the next. The leaders were always highly attuned to shifts in power.

The Tattered Prince, who had been a mercenary longer than Viserys had been alive, was naturally one of the best. With the pirates defeated, Tyrosh was preparing to send troops to the Two Lakes region to drive out the forces of Lys once and for all.

A major battle was imminent. The old bastard was cunning—he had only expanded his army by about 600 men but had exaggerated his numbers to 1,000, intending to use this bluff to demand a higher price from Tyrosh's Archon. On this particular day, he took Viserys and Denzo to Tyrosh for a banquet hosted by the Archon.

The current Archon of Tyrosh, Kambron, hailed from a family known for their fondness for the color green. Tyroshi were known for dyeing their hair, and the men of the Kambron family not only dyed their hair green but also their beards. Dorne and Tyrosh shared a close relationship, and in the original story, Archon Kambron had sent his youngest daughter to Sunspear to be raised. However, now that his youngest daughter had just begun walking, she was still being raised at home.

Archon Kambron had heard of Viserys's victory over the pirates. With the pirates no longer a threat, Tyrosh had seized nearly all the major islands in the Stepstones and was now preparing to move against Lys, with plans to annex the Two Lakes region entirely. Kambron wanted to meet Viserys in person at the banquet, having specifically requested the Tattered Prince bring him along. The reason was obvious—the reputation Viserys had earned from beheading the pirates a few months ago was too significant to ignore.

The most striking feature of Tyrosh Palace is its 70-foot-tall clock tower, from which one can view the entire palace grounds. Another notable feature is the "Bacchus Fountain," which spans over 100 square meters. The fountain depicts a muscular male god carrying a large wine jar, from which water sprays onto his shoulders. After passing by the Bacchus Fountain, Viserys and his companions arrived at the Archon's palace.

This palace, though smaller and less grand than the Sealord's Palace or the Black Wall in Volantis, caught Viserys off guard with its guards—all of whom were Unsullied. As they rode past, the Unsullied stood rigidly at attention, their gazes fixed straight ahead like automatons. Due to the Archon's preferences, the Unsullied's armor was painted green. Unlike elsewhere, where their hair was either short or shaved, here they were permitted to grow it long and dye it green. The Archon seemed so enamored with this look that he did not issue helmets to the Unsullied, allowing them to display their vibrant hair to all.

Viserys found the sight of the green-haired Unsullied lining the road amusing. However, he had no idea that the real spectacle awaited him inside. Upon entering the hall of the Archon's palace, he was met with a scene that resembled a a fashion freak show.

While most ordinary people, no matter how flamboyant their attire, only have one hair color, the nobles of Tyrosh had the luxury and resources to indulge in elaborate hairstyles. Some young nobles sported three colors in their hair, while those who opted for the "streaked" method were considered restrained. Others flaunted layered, spiral, or mottled patterns, creating a visual effect akin to giant shuttlecocks atop their heads.

"Windblown Tatters—the Prince of Tatters is here!" Before they could enter the hall, a servant announced their arrival. Viserys, with his natural silver hair, and the old captain and Denzo, whose hair had turned white with age, stood out among the sea of vibrant colors. The colorful heads turned towards them, making them feel somewhat out of place. "Look, it's the Prince of Tatters, and Prince Viserys, who has slain pirates across the seas!"

A high-pitched voice came from a green blur swiftly approaching the three men. It was Archon Kambron of Tyrosh. His green hair, held in place by some kind of hairspray, added nearly half a foot to his height. His green beard was styled in a flamboyant flame shape, and he wore a matching green robe. There was no doubt he was the most eye-catching figure in the hall.

"Everyone! I think you all know our Tattered Prince. He has built a mercenary army from scratch and is a loyal ally of Tyrosh!" Kambron declared, taking the old captain's hand and addressing the crowd.

The old captain was accustomed to this treatment, having worked with Tyrosh many times and met at least four of its Archons. It seemed every Archon here was cut from the same mold, differing only in hair color.

Archon Kambron then introduced Viserys. "This one! The Prince of the Targaryens, Viserys! It is said that he slew dozens of notorious pirate leaders with fewer than a hundred men. In my opinion, his bravery surpasses even that of Barristan. With such a friend, Lys has no choice but to surrender! Long live Tyrosh!"

As Kambron started, the others joined in, shouting enthusiastically. "Long live Tyrosh!" "Long live the Tattered Prince!" "Long live Viserys!" "Long live the Windblown!"

The old captain glanced at Viserys, who appeared slightly stiff, and couldn't help but smile. He remembered his own reaction the first time he witnessed such a spectacle. The Tyroshians were known for their flair and love of grand displays. Combined with their colorful hair, Tyrosh was the Free City with the most ostentatious reputation. Just looking at their hair could be overwhelming.

Kambron gestured to the servants beside him, and soon two Unsullied appeared, carrying a large map before the assembly. It not only depicted the mountains and rivers but also the defenses of Tyrosh and Lys.

'No, isn't this supposed to be a serious discussion about military affairs?' Viserys was taken aback by the scene unfolding before him. But it was the reality he faced. Kambron lifted his golden scepter, pointing at the map as he addressed the assembly, "Please, look here. This is the Two Lakes region, a long-standing target of our struggle.

However, due to continuous harassment by pirates, our plans have been thwarted time and again. Now that the pirates have been dealt with, if we intend to drive the Lys out of the Two Lakes, we must first capture the fortress they've built here!"

With a decisive thump of his scepter on the map, Kambron drew the crowd's attention to a location labeled "Dragon's Flame Fortress."

It was said that this was where the Conqueror Aegon had defeated the Volantis army atop his dragon, Balerion. The Black Dread had left a scorched earth in its wake. Lys had taken advantage of the aftermath, occupying the Volantis colony and transforming it into a formidable fortress with military and logistical capabilities.

They used it as a base to contest the Two Lakes against Tyrosh. If they could dismantle this "Dragon Flame Fortress," Lys would be forced to completely withdraw from the Two Lakes region.

"I have decided to send our general Toran with 20,000 troops to lay siege to Dragon's Flame!" At this point, a nobleman with dyed red hair stepped forward. This 'general,' in his early thirties, wore a red and purple robe adorned with gold trim.

Lord Toland exuded arrogance, his chest puffed out like a rooster surveying its domain. He looked down on Viserys's mention of "beheading" strategies.

House Toland was considered a family of generals in Tyrosh, and he dismissed all "unconventional" tactics, believing a general's duty was to defeat the enemy in open combat. To him, sneak attacks and assassinations were acts of cowardice.

As he passed Viserys and the others, Toland didn't even bother to acknowledge them. Viserys was unbothered by the slight. What he found more irksome was Toland's flamboyant hairstyle. On the battlefield, it would certainly draw attention. But then again, this was Tyrosh, where such colorful hair was common, perhaps even a tactic to bewilder the enemy.

Yet what truly unsettled Viserys was still to come. Toland began discussing his battle plan openly, in front of everyone present, including merchants who had no business knowing such details. This made Viserys seriously doubt the likelihood of victory in the coming battle. Not that he particularly cared. The more Tyrosh struggled, the higher the price they would offer for his services. This arrogant Toland might just prove to be a lucrative asset in the future.

It would be ideal if the Windblown could emerge as a third force in the ongoing war between Tyrosh and Lys.

Chapter 126: How to Poison Through Fire

Viserys guided the golden eagle to land on the roof of a dilapidated house. The thatched and mud structure had already collapsed on one side, and the additional weight caused the remaining sections to cave in further. Yet, compared to the other buildings in the area, this hut was relatively intact.

The village, once bustling, now lay in a state of utter desolation. The true victims of war were always the unarmed and defenseless. The prolonged conflict between Lys and Tyrosh over control of the Two Lakes had left this once-prosperous region in ruins. Recent mobilization by the Archon of Tyrosh only exacerbated the situation, pushing the villages and towns to the brink of collapse. Around Dragon's Flame fortress, signs of life were scarce. Grain prices soared, while the cost of slaves plummeted.

Lys's spies were well aware of Tyrosh's military maneuvers. As the "second victim" of the pirate incident, Lys was the first to recognize that something was amiss. In response, they hired two additional mercenary groups, adding over 500 men to bolster the defense of Dragon's Flame. The garrison now numbered over 2,000 soldiers. However, the leaders knew that maintaining such a force was financially unsustainable, and the increased troop presence was little more than a show of strength. They never truly intended to keep the Tyroshi forces out of the castle.

Unlike the other Free Cities, Lys had once been ruled by House Rogare more than a century ago. The Rogares had ties to the Targaryen royal family—Viserys II's father-in-law had been the Magister of Lys. But House Rogare eventually fell from power, leaving Lys to be governed by the Alchemist's Guild, a group known for their deadly poisons, including the infamous "Tears of Lys" that killed Jon Arryn and the "Strangler" that claimed King Joffrey in the original story. Due to the alchemists' influence, Lys also kept stores of wildfire.

In the meeting hall, several alchemists were discussing with Lysian nobles how to make the limited supply of wildfire more effective.

"With this small amount of fire, we won't kill many," remarked Tregar Ormollen, the Merchant Prince of Lys, identifiable by his long white robe and the multicolored rings on his fingers. Despite his luxurious attire, anxiety etched his features. The war had him deeply unsettled. Merchants, particularly those on their own soil, detested war. He also knew that Jorah Mormont, who had once lost his wife to him, was now a sergeant among the Windblown. The threat of revenge loomed large.

If it were just Jorah Mormont, he might not have been so concerned. But now, every Lyseni knew that among their enemies was a man named Viserys, notorious for his unconventional tactics. What if Viserys planned a decapitation strike against them?

At this point, a pale alchemist in brown robes spoke up, "We don't intend to burn our enemies alive with wildfire." This was Qaga, Lys's chief alchemist.

"And what do you plan to do with the wildfire?" Tregar asked, his curiosity piqued.

Qaga offered a mysterious smile before responding, "Aren't you interested in how Viserys killed the pirate leaders?"

"How did he do it?" Tregar immediately straightened in his seat. Men like him feared nothing more than dying without knowing the reason. They had too much left to enjoy—fine wines, luxurious feasts, and beautiful wives and concubines awaiting them at home. Viserys' methods had already unsettled many.

Qaga leaned in, a note of pride in his voice. "The best way to kill a group without drawing a sword is through poison. But the pirates were cautious, only consuming the food they brought themselves. It's one thing to poison a well, quite another to taint every bowl."

"So how did he manage it?" Tregar pressed, growing impatient with the alchemist's cryptic demeanor.

Qaga's smile widened. "Think about it. What else do people need to survive besides food and water?"

Tregar paused, then said, "Breathing? But... you can't poison the air, can you? Is there such a toxin?" His mind raced with images of Viserys uncorking a vial and pouring poison into the ground, its vapors silently killing the pirates. If such a poison existed, it was terrifying—Lys would be completely at the mercy of these alchemists.

But Qaga's next words brought a measure of relief. "No matter how we experiment, we haven't created a poison like that. However, we have developed a poison powder. Our plan is to use a wildfire explosion to disperse the poison powder. With enough of it, we can eliminate the enemy."

Qaga then outlined his strategy: they would bury the poison powder in a targeted area, wait for the enemy to enter, and then ignite the wildfire, which would disperse the powder, engulfing the enemy in toxic fumes. Amid the ensuing chaos and panic, they would launch a decisive strike, pushing back Tyrosh's forces.

After hearing the plan, Tregar found it entirely feasible. The risk of detonating the wildfire didn't concern him; they had bought Unsullied soldiers specifically for this purpose. In the eyes of Lys's elite, these "fill-in babies" were expendable and had no rights.

Soon after, Toland's 20,000 troops and the 2,500 Windblown arrived at Dragon's Flame. From the vantage of the golden eagle, Viserys observed the so-called "Dragon's Flame," a structure somewhat reminiscent of Harrenhal in Westeros—once grand, now dilapidated, scorched by dragonfire.

The Lys "Dragonfire Fortress" had been built on the ruins of a Volantene colonial stronghold. It was more a massive fortification than a true fortress. The western side of Dragonfire was relatively flat, an area the Lys had carefully repaired and fortified.

Suddenly, Viserys noticed Lys soldiers digging holes and burying something in the ground. 'Hmm? Landmines don't exist in this world. Even if they did, where would they get the explosives?' The soldiers' actions puzzled him, but it was clear they were setting traps.

Whether or not they were landmines, Lys was clearly preparing something sinister. Viserys decided he needed to inform Toland immediately.

Chapter 127: Halfway to Victory or Just Wishful Thinking?

Tyrosh was, of course, not going to use the sellswords for a frontal assault, as that would incur additional costs. Instead, the Windblown's main task was to block Lys's retreat. Toland's camp was positioned on the east side of the Dragon's Flame, while the Windblown camp was stationed to the south.

Viserys, not wanting to approach Toland directly, first informed the old captain of the unusual situation he had observed, using "suspicion" and "speculation" as pretexts. The old captain chose to believe him and led Viserys to Toland's camp.

As expected, the Tyroshi soldiers maintained their elaborate hairstyles even in the barracks. They gathered in small groups, like peacocks flaunting their feathers, competing to showcase their hair and beards. Braiding their beards was routine, but some preferred to straighten and dye them in various colors, as if they were wearing a colorful curtain over their mouths.

Soon, they arrived near Toland's tent. The situation here was slightly better; the soldiers guarding the tent were mostly Unsullied. Due to Archon Kambron's preferences, their hair was all neatly dyed green, which at least provided a more orderly appearance. Additionally, the Unsullied didn't grow beards, so the uniform green was easier on the eyes.

Suddenly, Viserys heard music and revelry coming from Toland's tent, and a sense of foreboding gripped him. After being announced, they entered the tent, and the scene before him made Viserys's heart sink. This was no general's command center—it was a party.

A long table in the tent was laden with food, fruit, and wine. Toland and his commanders were drinking and carousing, while several slave girls danced before them. Some of the men, emboldened by drink, began to grope one of the dancing girls. Toland, holding a wine glass, laughed loudly at the praise from others, his cherry-red hair swaying lightly with his laughter, clearly enjoying himself. Viserys noticed there was even a carpet on the ground. 'Was this a war or a banquet?'

He recalled that in the original novel, the Archon of Tyrosh had tried to end the war with Lys through bribery. Seeing how these men behaved, it was easy to understand why they had failed. 'Already celebrating the victory? It was no wonder they had lost.'

When Toland noticed the arrival of the Tattered Prince and Viserys, his eyes flashed with contempt. Raising his head, he said, "What's the matter?"

"Lord Toland is planning to attack Dragon Flame Fortress from the west, correct?" the old captain inquired.

"Why else would I have my troops here?" Toland replied with a sneer. The old captain, however, remained unfazed. After nearly thirty years as a mercenary, he was well accustomed to unusual situations.

"We've heard that the Lys have set up some traps on the west side, so we've come to warn the general to be cautious."

"Hmph!" Toland's expression darkened as he slammed his wine glass down on the table. He then said coldly, "I appreciate the Tattered Prince's concern, but your mission is to watch the south and ensure that Lys don't escape."

At this point, the commanders beside Toland began to chime in:

"We outnumber them three to one. What kind of trap could possibly stop us?"

"Exactly!"

"It seems the old captain is being overly cautious."

Though one of them spoke in defense of the old captain, his tone still carried a hint of mockery. "If a sellsword has survived nearly thirty years in this business, there's probably a reason for it."

In the eyes of the Tyroshi, who were focused on business, they saw themselves as the dominant party. How could a subordinate party dare to dictate terms to them? Such behavior suggested a lack of awareness of their own status.

Facing the ridicule, the old captain remained expressionless. "Since Lord Toland has already made his plans, we won't trouble you any further," he said, before turning to leave. Toland made no response, simply watching them go with a cold stare.

Once outside the tent, Viserys asked, "Commander, is Lys in a better position than they are?"

The old captain sneered. "A city controlled by merchants and alchemists? It can't be much better." Viserys trusted the old captain's judgment. In the original story, the Tattered Prince had accurately predicted the defeat of the Wise Masters of Meereen before the Battle of Meereen, even reaching out to the Mother of Dragons beforehand. His assessments of power dynamics were always precise.

The current situation resembled two poor chess players locked in a game, with the Windblown acting as mere bystanders, able to support only a few moves. Even if Tyrosh were to lose, they would simply retreat to the area around the Shield Lake, but they would still be required to pay their debts.

Not long after, perhaps having tired of his revelry, Toland ordered his entire army to prepare for an attack. He positioned the slave soldiers at the front, the free men in the middle, and the Unsullied at the rear. Though the Unsullied were also slaves, many regarded them as valuable property and were reluctant to use them recklessly. Their professionalism and loyalty made them more prized than ordinary slave soldiers.

Viserys "live-broadcasted" the battlefield situation through the golden eagle soaring above. From the sky, Toland's army appeared as a mass of "iron mud," steadily advancing toward the ruined Dragon Flame Fortress, which drew them in like a magnet. As anticipated, Toland ordered his soldiers to assault the relatively flat western side of the fortress. As the Lys defenders retreated, the mass of iron mud began to form a "promontory" of at least 4,000 to 5,000 soldiers.

Viserys directed the golden eagle lower, focusing on the area where the Lys had recently buried their "land mines," curious to see what his opponents had in store. Suddenly, a series of explosions erupted. The mines did not cause significant damage but instead released a thick cloud of blue-green smoke. The smoke quickly enveloped the 4,000 to 5,000 soldiers.

Amidst the smoke, the Tyroshi soldiers, already disoriented by the explosions, found themselves in severe discomfort. The thick smoke stung their eyes, rendering them unable to see, and breathing became increasingly difficult. Toland, stationed at the rear, noticed the chaos unfolding at the front and felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"Charge! Charge! Hold them back!" Toland urgently commanded, sending the Unsullied around him forward as a supervisory force, attempting to drive the retreating soldiers back to the front lines. However, the number of Unsullied was far too small to control the mass of panicked troops.

As the smoke began to dissipate, the Lys forces, who had initially retreated, launched a counterattack. The advancing Lys soldiers, combined with the retreating Tyroshi troops, created a chaotic wave that crashed against Toland's defensive line. The collapse of the Tyroshi forces was swift and overwhelming, and Toland, who had been "commanding" from the rear, suddenly felt as though the entire battle was crumbling around him. The urge to flee gripped him.

Yet, in a last desperate attempt to salvage the situation, he gathered all the Unsullied he could and, with the remnants of his sanity, seized the collar of a nearby nobleman. Shouting, he commanded, "Go! Bring me the Windblown!"

Chapter 128: Windblown’s Reputation

Lys was tasked with defending the Dragon's Flame Fortress. Rovi, the general in charge, stood on a high point with his second son and several officers, watching the fleeing Tyrosh soldiers below. Excitement surged through him as he surveyed the battle. Without taking his eyes off the chaos, he commanded, "Send the Unsullied down to break their formation! Inform the soldiers that I will reward them with ten gold dragons for every head they sever, and ten thousand gold dragons for Toland's!"

"Yes, my lord!" came the swift reply.

As the messenger departed, another soldier approached. "Lord, Bloodbeard has also requested to join the battle!"

"Hmph, these mercenaries," Rovi scoffed.

Rovi's family had been responsible for the defense of Lys since his grandfather's time. He despised sellswords, viewing them as mercenaries who only fought when the battle was easy. Yet, to defeat Tyrosh in a single stroke, he begrudgingly accepted their participation.

"Bring me some wine!" Rovi ordered. He then turned to the nobles around him, a grin spreading across his face. "There is nothing more enjoyable than watching the enemy flee while sipping wine."

"Yes, yes," the nobles agreed eagerly.

"Father, look at them. They're like fish without a brain," Rovi's son chimed in, seizing the moment to flatter him. As the second son, he needed to keep his father pleased to secure more benefits.

But Rovi frowned at his son's words. "You should address me by my title at a time like this."

"I understand, Father."

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, one person frowned secretly. Rovi had always insisted on formalities during operations, and this lapse in protocol was noted.

"Lord Rovi, should we send some troops to block the Windblown?" Feles of House Rogare asked. The silver-haired man, in his twenties, was a descendant of a once-powerful house that had ruled Lys over a century ago. Though the Rogare family had since fallen and fled Lys, they had returned with little influence. Still, Feles was distantly related to Viserys.

His suggestion was sound; containing the Windblown could secure victory. However, Rovi dismissed the idea with a sneer. "Lord Rogare, have you forgotten that the Windblown are just a mercenary group? Faced with certain defeat, mercenaries will only think of running faster. Why would they come back to support them?"

Dissatisfied, Feles pressed, "If you were in their place, would you support Tyrosh's army?"

"No!"

"Of course not!"

"Mercenaries fight for money, not to risk their lives. Why would they help Tyrosh?"

Eager to please Rovi, others chimed in with agreement.

"Now, we must commit all our forces and crush the noisy Tyroshi in one decisive blow!" Rovi declared, smugness evident in his tone.

"But..." Feles began, but Rovi cut him off. "Let's make a bet. How long do you think Tyrosh will last? I doubt it will be more than an hour."

"Three-quarters of an hour!"

"Two-quarters of an hour!"

Another noble started to suggest a quarter of an hour but was met with laughter.

...

While Lys's leaders basked in their confidence, Toland, who had been so assured just moments ago, was overwhelmed by the looming defeat. How had a seemingly certain victory turned into this disaster?

"Lord! We must retreat!" a noble urged.

Toland looked at the man who had been drinking and laughing with him not long ago, his mind racing. Could they really retreat? If they lost the battle, they would face dire consequences upon their return—possibly even massive reparations they couldn't afford. In slave-owning Free Cities like Lys and Tyrosh, those who couldn't pay their debts had only one fate: becoming slaves.

The thought chilled Toland to the core. Not only would he become a slave, but his wife and daughter would also become property to settle the debt. In this world, that was how free men were turned into slaves.

"No, Windblown!"

Suddenly, Toland remembered that the people from Windblown had warned him before the battle about a possible trap. At the time, he dismissed it, never imagining it would lead to such a disastrous consequence.

As he stared at the map behind the tent, Toland realized his only hope lay with the Windblown. But would a mercenary group fight desperately in a battle they were certain to lose? What price would he have to pay?

In the end, he made up his mind. After all, no cost was greater than the price of becoming a slave, not only for himself but for his family as well.

He turned to a nearby attendant, a medium-sized man, and shouted, "Tell the Windblown that if they come to our aid, I will sign a long-term garrison contract with them for Tyrosh, plus 100,000—no, 150,000 gold dragons! Hurry!"

Toland was now like a drowning man, flailing helplessly and desperate for rescue. The terms he offered were indeed very tempting.

In the Free Cities, while mercenaries might be used in battle, securing one's home typically required one's own people. If the Unsullied were available, they would be the preferred choice. For sellswords, however, securing a garrison contract with a city-state was a prize. Such a contract provided stability—no need to fight, yet still get paid, and paid well.

For a mercenary leader, a contract like this would attract more skilled fighters to join their ranks. Usually, they were employed only during wartime, which made their upkeep more affordable. Toland was clearly desperate to make such a promise.

...

Meanwhile, the Tattered Prince, who had been considering a retreat, hesitated upon receiving Toland's offer.

First, Tyrosh's defeat seemed inevitable, making recovery difficult. Second, even if Tyrosh lost, it would still maintain some influence in the Two Lakes region, ensuring future cooperation. They now had a guaranteed minimum outcome, but taking a risk seemed too costly. Moreover, with his 2,000-odd men scattered, gathering them quickly would be challenging.

At this moment, Viserys spoke up. "Commander, we don't have to succeed in saving Toland, but we could at least try."

"Try?" the old commander asked.

Viserys had observed through the Golden Eagle's eyes that Lys had not deployed troops to contain their forces. He suggested leading a small group to advance quickly and harass the enemy from the side. Even if they couldn't change the battle's outcome, they might buy Toland and his men some time.

They could send a cavalry unit to test the situation. If an opportunity arose, they could commit more forces; if not, they could locate Toland and escort him to safety. For Viserys, who saw the battlefield clearly, rescuing a single person posed no challenge. Moreover, it could be quite profitable.

If the old commander's plan to hold the line was a safe bet, taking a calculated risk could yield a higher return. The Windblown's actions could become a hallmark of their reliability, much like the Golden Company's reputation for keeping their word. This battle could serve as a "signboard" for future contracts. Even if Tyrosh lost, the Windblown's reputation would grow, and they could demand higher prices in future negotiations.

The old commander considered this and agreed to Viserys's plan. He trusted that Viserys would keep the losses within acceptable limits. After all, he had raised this unit himself, and if the losses were too great, Viserys would be the first to feel the pain.

The Tattered Prince then ordered Viserys to take the 7th Battalion, along with the cavalry from Webber's 9th and Jorah's 10th Battalions, to provide support. The combined cavalry battalion reached Toland's crumbling defense line in less than 20 minutes.

Chapter 129: This is Micro-Operation

Through the eyes of the Golden Eagle, Viserys observed that Lys's attacks were chaotic, with soldiers even trampling over one another. This disarray was not surprising. The battlefield was filled with slaves, but unlike the disciplined Unsullied, these were men who would remain slaves regardless of victory or defeat. Even the Lys soldiers, though currently on the winning side, were driven by little more than brutal aggression, their true nature ready to unravel at the first sign of trouble.

The soldiers of Tyrosh, on the other hand, fought desperately, like a maiden clinging to the last shred of her dignity in the face of impending violation. Their struggle only fueled the sadistic excitement of the Lys soldiers, who reveled in the violence. This spectacle gave Viserys a bold idea, especially when he noticed Bloodbeard—a brutal warrior—fighting without his helmet, seemingly unaware of the vulnerability that exposed.

At that moment, Bloodbeard was lost in the thrill of the slaughter, the screams of Tyrosh's soldiers a symphony to his ears. But his grim enjoyment was suddenly interrupted by a sharp whistle. Initially, he thought it was a trick of the mind, but the growing thunder of hooves quickly proved otherwise—a cavalry unit was fast approaching.

He turned to see a cavalry bearing a blue and white striped flag, charging towards him, raising a massive cloud of dust in their wake. Bloodbeard's first reaction was one of surprise, his killing frenzy momentarily slowed. By the usual logic of sellswords, facing near-certain defeat meant it was time to retreat. 'So why were the Windblown charging now? Were they here to deliver themselves to death?'

And it seemed they were serious—well-equipped and determined. A fleeting thought crossed Bloodbeard's mind: 'Could they be here for revenge?' But he quickly dismissed it. No matter their intentions, a small force like that couldn't possibly turn the tide of the battle.

Meanwhile, the noblemen of Lys, watching from the high ground, noticed something amiss. They hadn't expected the Windblown to stay, let alone send a cavalry to the front. "Lord, a team of 300 cavalry from the Windblown is rapidly approaching," a Lys scout reported.

"Hmph! Just 300 men? Block them!" Rovi scoffed, confident that in a battle involving tens of thousands, a mere 300 cavalrymen posed no threat. The only surprise was that the Windblown had sent anyone at all.

As the Lys cavalry moved to intercept, a thousand Lys soldiers formed a line to block the Windblown's advance. Viserys knew that unless they broke through this line, their effort would be in vain.

At the sound of the whistle, the cavalry shifted formation into a wedge. Another whistle signaled them to ready their bows. In a coordinated motion, more than 300 arrows were loosed, creating a lethal rain that tore through the Lys defense line. With Viserys at the forefront, the cavalry charged through the opening, breaking the line in a flash.

The maneuver left Rovi on the high ground nearly speechless. He couldn't comprehend how these soldiers could act with such unified precision. Realizing that this 300-man cavalry was no ordinary force, Rovi understood they had to be dealt with carefully. He turned to one of the nobles nearby and shouted, "You! Take the rest of the men and block them!"

"Me?" the nobleman stammered in disbelief. Everyone on the fortress had witnessed the Windblown's sudden, swift advance, and even from a distance, the sight was disorienting. But disbelief was no excuse; disobeying orders on the battlefield was a capital offense. Reluctantly, the nobleman gritted his teeth and led the remaining 1,000 soldiers from the fortress to confront the strange cavalry.

Viserys, having already broken through the initial defense line, arrived at the main battlefield with over 300 cavalrymen at his back. They charged straight into the weakest part of the Lys army.

At that moment, Toland finally spotted the Windblown banner in the distance and felt a wave of relief. But when he saw the cavalry plunging headlong into the Lys army formation, his relief turned to anxiety. 'Are they insane? How do they plan to fight like this? With only 300 men, they think they can break through an army of 10,000?'

The Lys nobles watching from the fortress high ground were initially overjoyed. It seemed they had overestimated this cavalry. All they needed to do was block them off, and the Windblown would be annihilated. What they didn't realize was that Viserys could see the entire battlefield clearly through the eyes of the Golden Eagle overhead.

As Lys soldiers regrouped to block him, Viserys noticed reinforcements arriving. He blew his whistle again, signaling the cavalry to change formation. With Viserys at the front, they charged as a single unit, slicing through the Lys formation like a dagger before slipping out through a gap between the pursuing soldiers, retreating from the main battlefield.

Rovi, watching from the fortress tower, was left nearly speechless. The cavalry moved like slippery eels, impossible to catch. Their actions significantly weakened Lys's offensive, allowing Toland's nearly shattered defense line to stabilize. The panicked, fleeing soldiers were rallied back to the front line, transforming what had been a massacre into a face-to-face confrontation.

Beep, beep, beep—through the Golden Eagle's eyes, Viserys spotted another weakness in the Lys defenses, this time in the direction of the Company of the Cat. A line that had been on the brink of collapse was suddenly reinforced, causing confusion among their ranks. Seizing the opportunity, Viserys led his men in another charge. The sound of whistling arrows filled the air as a dense rain of arrows opened yet another gap. The cavalry repeated their maneuver, cutting into the Company of the Cat's formation before retreating. As they withdrew, Viserys stood on his horse and, to the astonishment of everyone watching, shot an arrow that killed a sergeant major of the Company of the Cat.

Bloodbeard seethed with rage, never having felt so humiliated. Viserys's hit-and-run tactics might not inflict massive casualties—after all, there were less than 300 cavalrymen, and each charge could only kill a few dozen enemies. But his strategy was like a phantom in the fog, appearing and disappearing, delivering stinging blows to the Lys forces. The damage might be minimal, but the insult was profound.

This method proved highly effective. Lys's offensive rhythm was disrupted, and signs of retreat began to emerge. "Lord, let's call it a day. After this battle, the Tyrosh won't be able to take Dragon's Flame Fortress anytime soon," suggested Feles.

Rovi was tempted by the suggestion. But the thought of ending the battle now, especially after having ignored Feles's earlier advice, made him hesitate. Although the battle was no longer one-sided, his forces were still in the lead. Wouldn't retreating now make him appear incompetent? So, he decided to press on.

Just as he was about to give the order, a Lys scout rushed to him with alarming news: "Lord, the main force of the Windblown has arrived!"

"What!" Rovi turned to look in the direction of the Windblown, his heart sinking as he saw their forces on the edge of the battlefield. With the soldiers of both sides already engaged in close combat, a hasty retreat would lead to chaos. A chill ran down his spine, and the scene around him seemed to spin like a whirlwind.

Chapter 130: Company of the Cat’s Retreat

In just a few minutes, the old captain led the Windblown to cut off the Lys army's retreat, completing the encirclement with Tyrosh's forces. Toland knew this was his moment. If he joined the battle now, they might push through and take Dragon's Flame Fortress in a single decisive blow. Without hesitation, he donned his armor and charged into battle with his personal guard. The sight of their commander joining the fray electrified the Tyrosh soldiers, boosting their morale. The Lys soldiers, once the hunters, quickly found themselves the hunted, with the tide of battle turning against them.

Amid the chaos, Bloodbeard made a critical decision: he chose to flee. As a sellsword, self-preservation was more important, and with the battlefield in disarray, he believed he could escape with his hundred-strong entourage. But as soon as they broke away from the main fight, they were spotted by Viserys.

Viserys was resting at the time. After several hard-fought engagements, his cavalry was exhausted; at least a third of the horses were foaming at the mouth, on the verge of collapse. But Viserys wasn't about to let such an opportunity slip away.

"Bloodbeard is fleeing. Everyone, with me!" he shouted, grabbing his horse's mane and spurring it towards Bloodbeard. Remarkably, his men didn't hesitate. They put their helmets back on and followed him at once.

This was the most exhilarating battle they had ever fought. With their small force, they had dramatically shifted the course of the entire battle. It was the stuff of legends, an epic victory in the making. If they could kill the enemy commander, they would have tales to tell for generations.

Spider Webber, in particular, was eager to kill Bloodbeard. He drove his dagger into his horse's flank, urging it to sprint alongside Viserys. Jorah, too, was fueled by dreams of vengeance against Lys for stealing his wife. They both charged forward with renewed determination.

Soon, Viserys and his men spotted a group of well-equipped riders leaving the battlefield—clearly the elite of the Company of the Cat. The Cat's soldiers noticed their pursuers as well.

"Boss! They're after us!" one of Bloodbeard's men shouted. Bloodbeard glanced back and recognized the cavalry. He didn't know who their commander was, but he knew they were formidable. In a desperate bid to increase his chances of escape, he split his men into two groups. But just then, the shrill whistle sounded again, cutting through the air like a death knell. The cavalry didn't bother to divide; they came straight for him.

'No, how do they know exactly where I am? Is it my beard?' Bloodbeard's panic deepened, and for the first time, he cursed his distinctive red beard.

Suddenly, the bodyguard beside him screamed as his horse collapsed, pinning him to the ground. The man's waist was twisted at an unnatural angle; he wouldn't survive long.

"There's a marksman among them!" another shouted.

Bloodbeard felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He ducked low, trying to shield himself, but the relentless screams of his men told him the marksman wasn't targeting them—he was going for the horses.

Viserys's dragonbone bow was powerful, but its arrows couldn't pierce armor. Instead, he aimed for the horses, specifically their legs. With Jorah and Webber watching in awe, Viserys nocked three arrows at once. The arrows flew true, and three more of the Company of the Cat's riders fell.

At this point, no one dared to get close to Bloodbeard.

At this point, Bloodbeard finally recognized who was chasing him. Although the rider's face was hidden by a helmet, the golden dragon emblem on the armor immediately told him it was Viserys. However, Bloodbeard also noticed that Viserys was now riding with only a handful of men. The grueling chase had left many of his cavalry either lagging behind or engaged in skirmishes with the remnants of the Lys forces.

Sensing an opportunity, Bloodbeard decided to turn and confront Viserys directly. He thought, 'What if he's a tournament champion? This is a battlefield, not a joust—I might still have a chance!'

With his men looking on, Bloodbeard gripped his cavalry spear tightly and charged at Viserys.

Seeing his opponent charging, Viserys smiled coldly. He sheathed his dragonbone bow, mounted his horse, and drew his halberd, ready to meet Bloodbeard's challenge head-on.

Regis, who had witnessed Viserys's earlier victories and been trained by him, silently began to mourn for Bloodbeard.

The two warriors charged at each other, their faces becoming clearer with each passing second. With a resounding clang, Viserys knocked Bloodbeard's spear aside. Leaning back to avoid the attack, he deftly used the hook of his halberd to catch Bloodbeard's armor. Bloodbeard felt a tremendous force yank him from his horse, and before he could recover from the disorienting fall, he found himself tumbling to the ground.

As he struggled to regain his bearings, Bloodbeard's eyes fixed on a headless corpse gushing blood like a fountain. A jolt of realization hit him—the corpse looked disturbingly familiar.

'That's…' was Bloodbeard's final thought before darkness swallowed him.

With Bloodbeard's death, the Company of the Cat crumbled. Viserys picked up Bloodbeard's severed head and led his troops back to the battlefield. When the remaining mercenaries of the Company of the Cat saw their leader's head, their morale shattered completely. Toland quickly seized the opportunity, leading his troops in a decisive assault on Dragon's Flame Fortress. Thousands of Lys soldiers, seeing the futility of resistance, laid down their weapons and surrendered.

To Viserys's surprise, some of the captives included Unsullied. Although only a small number of the Unsullied had surrendered—less than 300 out of a force of about 1,500—it was still remarkable given their reputation for unwavering loyalty. This realization made Viserys understand that even if he acquired a large number of Unsullied like the Mother of Dragons, he couldn't treat them merely as unfeeling tools. Over time, he would need to pay attention to their emotions, for the Unsullied were still human, despite their harsh conditioning.

While the battle had resulted in heavy casualties among the ordinary soldiers, Rovi and the other Lys nobles had long since vanished, leaving their mission unfulfilled.

"Long live General Toland!"

"Long live General Toland!"

"Long live General Toland!"

The cheers echoed throughout Dragon's Flame Fortress. Toland, ever the cunning strategist, allowed his subordinates to lead the celebrations, making it appear as though he had been the key to victory. But in the end, none of that mattered—as long as he delivered on his promises, neither Viserys nor the Tattered Prince would care. Payment would settle all accounts.

Chapter 131: I Prefer You When You’re Unruly

In battles of this magnitude during the cold-weapon era, the typical casualty rate rarely exceeds 20%. However, this battle was an exception, with total casualties reaching an astonishing 40%.

The Windblown suffered fewer than 150 casualties, including minor and serious injuries as well as fatalities. The losses on Tyrosh's side were less clear, though they were substantial. Between the poison mist, the chaos of the stampede, and the enemy's relentless assault, even their victory felt hollow—a pyrrhic triumph.

Viserys had also taken note of the "poisonous fog bombs" deployed by Lys. The design was impressive, a testament to the skill of the Lys Alchemist's Guild. If circumstances allowed, Viserys thought, there might be valuable secrets to extract from them.

As the heroes of the battle, some officers of the Windblown were invited to Toland's camp for a victory celebration. As they entered Tyrosh's camp, they were greeted by the screams of the wounded and the overpowering stench of blood. Many soldiers who had survived the poisonous fog were now blind, a grim reminder of the battle's cost.

Suddenly, Viserys noticed a Tyrosh soldier with a large black and red scab on his neck—evidence of a suicide. He asked, "What happened to him?"

A soldier carrying the body, seeing that Viserys was a member of the Windblown, answered, "His eyes were blinded by the poison. I guess he didn't want to burden his family, so…"

Though accustomed to the harsh realities of war, the sight unsettled Viserys. He had seen corpses before, but rarely had he encountered someone who preferred death over life. Sometimes it wasn't the brutality of the battlefield that struck the deepest, but the despair that followed.

As they continued through the camp, Viserys saw more soldiers who had taken their own lives. Under Tyrosh's law, those who couldn't repay their debts became slaves to settle what they owed. To spare their families from being enslaved due to their injuries, some soldiers, feeling they had lost their ability to work, chose to end their lives.

Viserys's gaze then fell upon a middle-aged soldier with blue hair streaked with gray. The man sat silently beside the body of a young soldier, likely his son. The young man's chest still had a broken spear embedded in it, too deeply lodged in bone to be removed. The older man, with the stoicism of a weathered tombstone, did nothing but sit in mute grief.

The old captain, watching Viserys, was surprised by his expression. He hadn't expected such a scene to affect Viserys, yet he saw genuine pity in his eyes. It was a rare quality in a warrior. The captain had learned of Viserys's boldness, charging into battle with only 300 men, and this unexpected display of compassion revealed a different side to him.

'Is it possible,' the captain wondered, 'for someone to be both a fierce warrior and a compassionate soul?' He found it difficult to recall anyone who fit that description; warriors were usually defined by their bloodlust and love for battle, with Bloodbeard being a prime example.

He patted Viserys on the shoulder, signaling that he should take a moment to collect himself.

"Captain," Viserys said quietly, "if you conquer Pentos one day, be kind to the civilians. Only then will your rule endure."

The old commander was taken aback by the advice. The word "civilians" struck him as foreign, something he had rarely considered. But he had always regarded Viserys with respect, not as a junior, and took his words to heart, seeing them as wisdom worth remembering.

Soon, the group arrived at Toland's tent. As before, the sound of musicians singing and playing instruments could be heard from afar. Compared to the rest of the camp, Toland's tent felt like an entirely different world—immaculately clean and filled with the enticing aroma of food. To celebrate the victory, Toland had prepared an abundance of food and wine. Now that they had won, there was no point in holding anything back.

As they entered the tent, the scene before them was even more extravagant and opulent than their last visit. Rich carpets lined the floor, and a dozen dancing girls twisted their bodies with abandon. These dancers were barely clothed, draped in strings of pearls that served more as provocative ornaments than actual clothing, designed solely to ignite their master's desires.

Dick and Caggo, who had accompanied the group, were completely entranced. The long table before them was laden with steaming dishes and fine wine, ready to be enjoyed. For these nobles, it felt as though they had just emerged victorious from a game of "turning the tables in a desperate situation," and the suffering outside seemed a distant memory. Now, their only focus was on indulging in the pleasures before them.

"Oh, Lord Commander!" Toland's greeting was far warmer than at their last meeting. Along with his armor, he had shed his arrogance and prejudice, now genuinely grateful for the Windblown's assistance.

"Come, try this. It's a liquor," Toland said, personally pouring a glass for the Tattered Prince, his demeanor filled with flattery.

"General Toland, why don't you recover? I prefer you when you're unruly," Viserys remarked with a mocking tone.

"No, no, a true friend deserves my most sincere attitude," Toland replied, turning to pour a glass for Viserys, practically groveling as he handed it over.

"I wonder how many permanent positions can the General provide for us?" Viserys asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. Toland began to laugh, knowing well the saying that one should use people in times of need, not discard them afterward. With the battle nearly over and the threat of family ruin and enslavement averted, this matter would need careful discussion.

"No hurry! I will discuss this with the Archon when I return, and a satisfactory answer will be given. And when we return, there will be a victory celebration waiting for us!" Toland said, trying to reassure him.

Viserys, however, had no interest in the banquet Toland spoke of. If the ruling classes of the three Free Cities in the Disputed Lands were all like this, then he would need to strategize carefully. It was a travesty that such fertile lands were governed by such useless people.

The so-called banquet did not last long. The next morning, Toland departed with the remainder of his army, leaving a portion behind to guard Dragon's Flame Fortress. Given the losses they had suffered, some of the Windblown had to stay as well.

Upon their return to Tyrosh, Archon Kambron had indeed prepared a grand welcome for them. At the celebratory banquet, Kambron announced his new ambition: to conquer Lys.

If successful, they would gain control over the vital choke point of the Narrow Sea, raising Tyrosh's revenues to unprecedented levels through toll collection. However, the old captain harbored concerns that Kambron's appetite might be too large, and his ambitions too dangerous.

Chapter 132: The Old Captain’s Real Name

When Archon Kambron announced his ambitious goal, Viserys kept a close eye on the Tattered Prince's reaction. If the prince had chosen to continue supporting Tyrosh, Viserys would have needed to persuade him otherwise. Fortunately, the prince's lack of enthusiasm spared him the effort.

On the journey back, the old captain remained unusually silent, until he finally sought out Viserys.

"Viserys, I want to end our cooperation with Tyrosh. What do you think?" His voice was hoarse, as though the decision had cost him considerable inner turmoil.

"You first," Viserys replied calmly, surprising the old captain. He had only confided in his old friend Denzo before, who understood his concerns but couldn't offer a solution. The captain had expected Viserys to be as surprised as Denzo, but instead, Viserys remained composed.

"You don't want to keep working with them, do you?" the old captain asked.

"He wants to dominate the Stepstones by himself. It's not that simple. It goes against the interests of too many factions. Even if he conquers Lys, the rebellions will come in waves, like the tide on a beach. If we're not careful, the Windblown could get stuck in the mire," Viserys explained.

Because of Viserys's involvement, the conflict between Tyrosh and Lys had accelerated. Originally, the war wouldn't have erupted for another two or three years. During that time, Archon Kambron had engaged in a series of diplomatic maneuvers—sending his youngest daughter to Dorne, securing Myr as an ally, and even attending the Mother of Dragons' wedding, likely to court favor with Pentos and the Horselords.

In the original timeline, Kambron had been more cautious. But now, emboldened by a string of victories, he was blinded by ambition, believing he could conquer Lys on his own.

"Yes, I see it the same way," the old captain agreed. "If we continue our partnership with Tyrosh, we might gain some short-term benefits, but in the long run, we'll be dragged into a quagmire that won't be easy to escape."

The old leader found himself in a dilemma. Continuing the alliance would likely lead to disaster for the Windblown. But ending the partnership might stir discontent among the mercenaries, a group of rough men who neither understood nor cared for strategic considerations. To them, if the Prince of Tatters couldn't secure profitable ventures, there was little reason to stick around.

Though many had signed long-term contracts of three to five years, some contracts were set to expire annually. If a significant number chose not to renew, it would severely impact the future of the Windblown.

Unless the mercenaries faced an immediate, tangible threat, they might not support the old captain's decision.

"Then we'll just have to show them the threat," Viserys said.

"How?" the captain asked.

"I have an idea…" Viserys began, explaining that his connections in Dorne could be leveraged. By demonstrating the threat posed by Tyrosh's monopoly over the Stepstones, they could rally the mercenaries. They only needed to make clear the stakes involved with controlling the Stepstones, and Lys's very survival would depend on it. As for Myr, Viserys suggested that directly confronting them would be too costly. Instead, they could first bring Pentos into the fold, and then approach Myr. With this strategy, not only would the mercenaries fall in line, but Tyrosh would also be forced to make concessions to secure the Windblown's loyalty. It would be a win-win situation, and Viserys would ensure he emerged victorious as well.

After hearing Viserys's plan, the old captain's expression turned perplexed. In a word, Viserys's "plan" seemed like a pipe dream. It wasn't just a plan—it was a grand scheme involving Lys, Tyrosh, Myr, and Pentos, four of the nine Free Cities! He even intended to reach out to Westeros. The old captain didn't know how to describe it—crazy? Bold? The risks were immediately apparent, and he swiftly dismissed Viserys's idea.

"No, it's too risky!" the old captain said firmly. "Lys isn't easy to negotiate with. Who could broker a deal with the Lys Magisters? I certainly can't, and the Windblown doesn't have any diplomats. And you? Lys's current predicament is largely your doing—they'd likely execute you the moment you set foot there. Then there's Sunspear—Viserys, you're still a wanted man by Robert Baratheon. You'd only be walking into trouble. And Pentos? What's your connection to Pentos? It's doubtful you'd even get an audience with the rulers there."

He then added, more sternly, "I'm telling you, we've amended the contract. You can't play your 'self-employed' games anymore. Without my permission, you're not allowed to act on your own. Military regulations allow me to deal with you!" Though his words were a threat, Viserys recognized them as expressions of concern.

"But we only signed a one-year contract, and now there are, what, two months left?" Viserys reminded him. The old captain's eyebrows shot up, and his eye bags tightened. He had privately allied with Viserys, believing that Viserys would help him conquer Pentos and that the Windblown would benefit from his ambitions. Subconsciously, the captain had assumed that Viserys wouldn't leave the Windblown. But now, he realized that their contract was nearing its end, and Viserys had the strength and power to walk away.

"Do you have to go?" the old captain asked, almost as if conceding defeat.

"There's nothing we cannot do, and no one we cannot offend. It's just a matter of the price we're willing to pay," Viserys replied. The Tattered Prince was struck by his words. Had they come from anyone else, he might have laughed them off, but with Viserys, he hesitated. He decided to convene a meeting to discuss the matter further.

After the battle, the old captain moved the camp to Dragon's Flame Fortress. With supplies from Tyrosh, the Windblown mercenaries were quite comfortable, basking in the glow of their recent victory and secure in the knowledge that they had a contract for the future. To the ordinary mercenaries, the future looked bright.

Viserys, along with Dick, Denzo, Caggo, and a few others, gathered in the old captain's room. The blue and white banner of the Windblown hung on the wall opposite the door, and the old captain sat beneath it, leading the discussion about Viserys's alliance plan.

When Dick and Meris first heard the plan, they thought it was a joke. But as they considered it, they realized it had a certain logic. Still, the scale of the plan was immense, and Dick, in particular, felt Viserys didn't need to take such a gamble.

"Viserys, you've done enough for the Windblown. There's no need to take such a risk. I think we can accept the loss," Dick said, his concern evident.

"Yeah, you still have to take care of Dany," Meris added.

Denzo, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "Viserys, the rewards of taking risks can be great, but if you become addicted to it, one slip-up and you could lose everything you've built." His words were sound advice. "Fortune favors the bold," but the cost of failure could be devastating.

"I know you want to restore your kingdom, but you're not even twenty yet, right? You have plenty of time to take it slow," Denzo continued.

"He's not even seventeen yet," Meris interjected.

Viserys looked around at the group, realizing that they were all genuinely concerned for his well-being. It dawned on him that the old captain's "meeting to discuss" was actually an attempt to dissuade him with the support of the group.

"Viserys, it doesn't matter if some people leave the Windblown because of my decision. In my eyes, you alone are worth five battalions," the old captain said, making one last effort to convince him. Indeed, their arguments were not without merit. Viserys had already exceeded his goal of commanding a mercenary group of over a thousand within a year. While the Windblown didn't entirely belong to him, as long as he could hatch a dragon, people would flock to him, even if he hadn't helped the old captain take Pentos.

If he had stuck to his original plan, he could have rested on his laurels. But plans change. The Mother of Dragons had already shown him that using force to subjugate a people with their own beliefs and cultural systems was a daunting task. Even if Viserys managed to acquire over 10,000 Unsullied, he couldn't guarantee he could fully control Slaver's Bay. He might even find himself at odds with Daenerys over its security. While he might handle the situation better than she had, it would still require significant time—time during which he could only watch as a group of ambitious individuals tore Westeros apart.

For Viserys, the best strategy for Slaver's Bay was to raid it and move on. But he wasn't a nomad—he needed a stable foundation. To transport an army to Westeros, he required his own port and fleet, along with a secure logistics base to avoid any vulnerabilities. Tyrosh was the ideal choice, practically his "dream lover." As the closest Free City to Sunspear, it was perfectly positioned. From the Stepstones, it was just a half-day's sail to Dorne. Viserys didn't even need to fully conquer Tyrosh; he just needed to leverage his alliance to force Tyrosh to withdraw its troops and relinquish the promised benefits. This would give the Windblown a foothold in the Stepstones, providing the stability they needed. This was the real motivation behind his decision to send envoys to the other Free Cities.

Viserys smiled and said, "When have I ever taken a risk without being sure of the outcome? Take Lys, for example. Why would they choose death when they can survive? Joining the alliance is a lifeline for them—they'll be eager to cooperate. As for Sunspear, you might not be aware of Elia's significance. House Martell harbors nothing but hatred for Robert. Pentos and Myr may be trickier, but they'll see the danger in letting Tyrosh monopolize the Stepstones. They don't even need to send troops—just putting pressure on Tyrosh will suffice."

He analyzed each Free City for the old captain and the others, explaining that the operation wasn't as risky as it seemed. Seeing Viserys's confidence, the group began to view the plan as feasible.

"Should I bring some men with you?" Caggo asked, sitting up straight.

"No need for a large entourage. I'll just bring Regis. Those merchants are skittish enough; we don't want to scare them off," Viserys joked. He eventually convinced everyone, but before he left, the old captain pulled him aside.

"If you're heading to Pentos, I have some advice," the old captain said. Although Pentos was nominally controlled by 40 noble families, real power lay with the Berent family and its allies. The "prince" used for sacrificial purposes was never chosen from these families. The head of the Berent family, a man named Kurland, was formidable in appearance but, according to the old captain, was really a cowardly thief. He advised Viserys to take a tough stance in negotiations with Kurland, predicting it would yield unexpected results.

Finally, the old captain revealed a secret: "My real name is Hoyt Stewart, and no one knows it except Kurland."

"Sounds like you have a history with him?" Viserys asked with a smile, but the old captain's face grew serious.

"Viserys, I know you have many skills, but don't kill him. I want to do it myself." From Hoyt's tone, Viserys could sense a deep-seated hatred.

"For me, Kurland is my Robert and Tywin. The way you want to kill Robert and Tywin, I want to kill Kurland," Hoyt said, his voice chilling the room.

"I understand," Viserys replied.

"I want to go with you!" was Daenerys's immediate reaction upon hearing that Viserys was leaving.

"No, I need you to handle something else for me—something very important."

"Something else?" Daenerys asked, confused.

Chapter 133: Viserys’s One-Man Mission

Viserys's mission for Daenerys might have seemed like a way to keep her occupied, but if executed correctly, it had the potential to significantly elevate the plan's success. While her actions could solidify the "lower limit" of their objectives, they also held the promise of pushing the "upper limit" to new heights.

For the next few days, the old captain Hoyt concealed Viserys's whereabouts, sharing the information with only a select few. Then, under the cover of night, Viserys set off on his journey to Lys.

In the council hall of Lys, the air was thick with tension as the city's princes and magistrates argued. The oppressive heat from hundreds of candles only added to the stifling atmosphere. Sweat glistened on foreheads, whether from the intensity of the debate or the sweltering temperature.

"We should immediately seek aid from Volantis! With their support, we needn't fear Tyrosh!" a young nobleman urged, his voice rising above the clamor.

"Ah, yes, and in the process, hand Lys over to Volantis on a silver platter," retorted an older nobleman with biting sarcasm.

Another voice chimed in, "Perhaps we could pay them off, buy ourselves some peace."

"Peace? You mean surrender!" Rovi snapped, clearly displeased.

"If surrender is so distasteful, why did you come back at all?" the man shot back.

For a defeated general, this cut deep. Rovi, his pride wounded, drew his sword and challenged the man to a duel.

"If you're so brave, why didn't you draw your sword on the battlefield?" the nobleman sneered in response.

"Enough!" bellowed Tregar, the most influential of the 'Prince Magisters,' silencing the room. "You've argued from dusk till dawn. Do you think this bickering will make the Tyroshi turn back?"

Relieved that someone had taken charge, the others fell silent.

"So, what's our plan?" asked a noblewoman draped in purple.

"We need more soldiers, more weapons, and yes, even assassins. It's far too early to speak of defeat."

His words shamed some of the more defeatist members of the council. None of the three Free Cities in the Disputed Lands had the power to destroy the others outright. Their recent losses had shaken them, but Tregar reminded them that as long as they held out, all was not lost.

However, every option came at a steep cost. Take assassins, for example—hiring ordinary ones would achieve little. The Faceless Men were the ideal choice, but their services were prohibitively expensive. Assassinating a figure like Kambron could drain the city's coffers entirely.

And then there was the matter of hiring mercenaries. The Golden Company was too far away, and even smaller, more capable mercenary groups would demand exorbitant fees. Hiring a group like the Bright Banners, with less than a thousand men, would be pointless—they'd likely be wiped out after just two volleys on the battlefield.

Despite the challenges, Tregar found the idea of seeking aid from Volantis not entirely unreasonable. Once Tyrosh dominated the Stepstones, the repercussions would be far-reaching. With time, diplomatic mediation might be possible. But Lys had suffered such swift defeats over the past six months that everyone was reeling. Tregar's current strategy was to "wait for change," hoping that external forces would eventually intervene.

Just as the room fell silent, Tregar's servant hurried to his side and bowed. "Who? Viserys?" Tregar thought his ears were deceiving him. He whispered to the servant for confirmation.

"My lord, that's what he said. Silver hair, purple eyes." Despite the servant's insistence, Tregar still couldn't believe it. Even considering the prevalence of silver hair and purple eyes in places like Lys and Tyrosh, the name Viserys carried a weight that was hard to accept.

Qaga, who stood close by, noticed Tregar's unease. When Tregar shared the news with him, Qaga's reaction mirrored his own—an expression of disbelief. "Is it really Viserys? But what could his purpose be?" Qaga wondered aloud.

"What do you think? Should we let him come?" Tregar asked.

"Let him come. After all, he's only one man," Qaga suggested.

"But what about the rumors of his sorcery?" Tregar hesitated.

"Now that we can't even spark a wildfire, where would there be any sorcery? Inform these people first," Qaga said, gesturing toward the gathered nobles.

Tregar stood up and clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "There is someone coming to form an alliance with us."

"Who?" "Who is he?" "Someone from Volantis?" The nobles murmured among themselves, puzzled by Tregar's vague announcement.

"Viserys Targaryen," Tregar declared. The name hit the room like a thunderclap, and disbelief rippled through the crowd.

"Viserys? The Viserys rumored to have killed pirates with witchcraft?" someone exclaimed.

'The Prince of the fallen kingdom?' 'The Beggar King?' 'The double champion of the Braavos Festival?' 'Isn't he a Windblown man?' The nobles buzzed with speculation.

Rovi suddenly stood and shouted, "Kill him! He must be here to force us into surrender. We will never surrender!" His outburst was met with scorn from some, as even in this world, the unspoken rule of not harming a messenger was respected, though not as strictly as guest rights. Yet the whispers of sorcery still troubled many.

At this point, Qaga stepped forward to calm the growing unease. "Don't worry. This Viserys doesn't know any sorcery. If he did, how could the Targaryens have been overthrown? Let him in and see what he wants." The nobles exchanged uncertain glances, hesitant to make a decision.

"Could he be seeking revenge for House Rogare?" suggested an elderly nobleman who had earlier mocked the idea of asking Volantis for aid.

'He hasn't even avenged his own family, let alone House Rogare,' Tregar thought, irritated by the old man's tendency to dredge up century-old grudges. Despite the lingering doubts, the Lysene nobles finally decided to meet with Viserys.

...

About an hour earlier, Viserys had arrived at the port of Lys. He gazed at the moonlit sky, softly singing the Moonsingers' hymns. The clarity of the moon reassured him that this endeavor was not as risky as it seemed. 'They need me more than I need them,' he mused. 'Why would these slave owners and merchants choose death over life? When Volantis ruled, they acted as obedient subjects for decades. There's no real danger here—poison is the only threat, and I'm prepared for that.' He had stocked up on enough attribute points to instantly recover even if his Health value dropped to zero. Still, his thoughts drifted to Regis.

Viserys looked at the bald head beside him, its surface glistening in the moonlight. "Are you afraid?" he asked.

"Ah, oh, I'm not... I'm not afraid," Regis stammered.

"If you're afraid, wait for me outside."

"No, I can't. I'm your attendant. How can I let you go in alone?" Regis insisted.

Viserys smiled. Fortunately, his Constitution had been weak when he first arrived in this world. Otherwise, he might have killed Regis at first. How could he have gained such a loyal servant if he did that?

Soon, the gates of Lys opened, and a luxurious carriage emerged. "Lord Viserys, the nobles wish to... wish to see you," the coachman stammered. Viserys's name had become so feared in Lys that it could be used to scare children, and the coachman was visibly wary of this rumored practitioner of witchcraft.

Chapter 134: Don’t Make a Scene

The sudden appearance of Viserys diverted everyone's attention from the current discussion. The nobles were abuzz, speculating about the true purpose of his visit. If he was here to negotiate a surrender, why had Tyrosh sent a sellsword instead of a proper emissary?

"Could it be that the Windblown and Tyrosh haven't reached an agreement?" Tregar asked Qaga.

"It's possible. It would be beneficial if the Windblown were willing to join us, but who knows what kind of price they'd demand?" Qaga replied. Some nobles who had previously fought alongside Rovi noted that without the Windblown's unexpected intervention, they might have won. In other words, the Windblown were truly formidable—fighters who could turn the tide of battle. Aligning with such a mercenary group could be advantageous. The Windblown had no strong ties, so even if they charged a high price, they could be dismissed easily afterward. However, as a trading city-state, Lys prided itself on being more "refined" than mercenaries. Many of the Free Cities' nobles looked down on such groups, and they were likely to be critical and make things difficult for Viserys.

Despite whatever plans the Lysene nobles were concocting, Viserys soon arrived at the Council Hall. As a true descendant of the Dragonlords, his presence softened the hostility of some female nobles. In fact, a few of them even entertained the notion that being captured by such a man might not be so terrible. The majority of those present regarded Viserys with mixed emotions—surprised to learn he had come alone with only one servant. Seeing him standing before them, they couldn't help but feel a blend of admiration and awe. In his position, none of them would have dared to venture out alone.

However, among the many gazes, Rovi's was tinged with resentment. If not for Viserys, he wouldn't have ended up a defeated general. Deciding to take the initiative, Rovi spoke with a condescending tone: "Haha! Viserys! I recall the last Targaryen who was almost sold to a brothel was also named Viserys, wasn't he?"

Viserys's mouth twitched, but he stopped Regis from reacting in anger. In House Targaryen, there had been three "Viserys", including himself.

If he succeeded in claiming the Iron Throne, he would be Viserys III. Rovi was referring to Viserys II, who had been captured by a Lysene general during the Dance of the Dragons and nearly sold to a brothel. The Targaryen family had been forced to sign a series of unequal treaties to secure his release, even marrying him to a Lysene woman before he could return to Westeros.

"Yes, but the last person who was disrespectful to Viserys met a violent end," Viserys retorted, alluding to the Lysene general who captured Viserys II and was later murdered.

As the tension between the two escalated, Tregar intervened, cutting through the pointless verbal sparring. "I wonder what brings the Prince to Lys under these circumstances?" From the man's appearance, Viserys recognized him as the one who had taken Jorah's wife, which was why he had not brought Jorah to Lys.

"Cooperation, of course. Tyrosh is about to face significant trouble, so why should the Windblown be sacrificed?" Viserys replied.

"Trouble?" The word sparked confusion among some of the nobles. Tyrosh seemed to be winning, so how could he be in trouble? But as Viserys elaborated, the pieces began to fall into place.

Their recent string of failures suddenly made sense. With Viserys's insight, they realized that Free Cities like Sunspear, Myr, and even Pentos and Volantis, would not idly watch Tyrosh annex Lys. They actually had many potential allies.

'The leader of the Windblown is no ordinary man,' Tregar thought. Viserys's approach aligned perfectly with his own intentions. As the leader of the nobles, Tregar exchanged a glance with Qaga, and in each other's eyes, they saw a flicker of hope.

At that moment, they all realized that the Windblown were led by a shrewd strategist who understood the complexities of the situation. But could a single mercenary group like the Windblown really handle the responsibility of such a broad and delicate "chain alliance"?

Tregar questioned further, "So, what's your plan? Are you going to persuade Myr and Sunspear to support Lys as a mere mercenary?"

Viserys replied with a touch of disdain, "What else? You? Is there a better option? I'm a guest here, yet I've been in your presence for nearly a quarter of an hour without so much as a cup of tea offered. Is this how the nobles of Lys treat their guests?" He turned as if to leave.

"You want to leave? Guards!" Rovi, who had remained silent until now, could no longer contain himself and barked the command.

"Stop! Stand down!" Tregar's voice boomed louder, halting the guards in their tracks. He shot a furious glare at Rovi before signaling for tea to be served to Viserys. Then he addressed him, "My lord, are you truly willing to form an alliance with the other Free Cities on behalf of Lys?"

"Of course," Viserys responded, "as long as you can meet my price."

Sensing that Viserys was about to name his terms, the nobles leaned in, eager to hear his proposal.

"Speak," Tregar urged.

"After the alliance is formed, Lys will sign a ten-year contract with the Windblown for three thousand permanent soldiers."

A ten-year commitment and three thousand soldiers. The numbers alone made several nobles wince. The entire Lys garrison numbered only around ten thousand men, and this deal would essentially place their security in the hands of outsiders.

"No! This is impossible!" Rovi erupted once more.

"Gentlemen, if this man doesn't shut his mouth, I believe this meeting is over," Viserys warned, his patience wearing thin.

"You—!"

"Lord Rovi!" Tregar cut in sharply. Despite the hope Viserys's analysis had inspired, they all knew that this hope hinged entirely on his willingness to help. If Rovi continued to disrupt the meeting, their chances of survival could vanish.

"Lord Rovi," Tregar said coldly, without even glancing in his direction, "I think it's time for you to go home and rest. The damage you've caused to Lys will be addressed at a later time."

Rovi felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. His personal guard had been decimated at Dragon's Flame Fortress, leaving him powerless—a tiger without claws. To many in the room, Rovi no longer deserved a seat at the table.

"No! You can't do this! You can't..." His voice trailed off as he sank into his chair, defeated and hollow, like a dog stripped of its dignity.

Tregar ignored Rovi's collapse and turned his attention back to Viserys. "Lord, ten years is too long, and three thousand men is too many. What do you think of one thousand men for five years?"

The leaders of Lys were all present, and Tregar knew that securing favorable terms for the city would enhance his own standing.

"Seven years, three thousand men," Viserys countered.

"Five years, two thousand," Tregar negotiated.

"Five years, four thousand," Viserys shot back.

This time, Tregar refrained from further bargaining. Instead, he looked to the gathered nobles and asked, "Everyone, is this price acceptable?"

Chapter 135: I Bet Your Wine Isn’t Poisonous

The final price caused the nobles to murmur among themselves. Though the contract was only for five years, five years was a long time—long enough for new players to emerge. Some of the weaker nobles had to consider whether they would even still have a place in the council hall by then.

Seeing that the majority seemed ready to accept the terms, Qaga, who had remained silent for some time, decided it was his moment to act. Had Rovi won the battle for Dragon's Flame Fortress, the influence of the Alchemist's Guild in Lys would have soared. But the defeat had left their previous investments unrecouped. Now, Qaga needed to step up and secure new advantages for the guild.

"Everyone, we know that an ambassador must possess both the courage of a warrior and the wisdom of a sage to fulfill his duties. Lord Viserys, please forgive my boldness, but this matter concerns the survival of Lys, and we must approach it with utmost seriousness."

Viserys regarded him with a slight frown, recognizing the familiar maneuver. It wasn't unusual for someone to intervene just as a deal was about to close—often due to internal power struggles, just like when he had negotiated soap contracts with Morel. The man's attire clearly marked him as part of the Alchemist's Guild, which held significant sway in Lys. Having already dealt with Rovi, Viserys knew he couldn't handle Qaga in the same manner.

Tregar, standing next to Qaga, also recognized his intent but knew he couldn't interfere directly.

"Does the Lord think I'm unfit for the role of ambassador?" Viserys asked, his tone edged with challenge.

"It's not that I doubt you, but I need to ensure that you truly possess the capabilities necessary, so that everyone can have peace of mind," Qaga replied smoothly.

"Oh, I see. You want to test me?" Viserys's eyes narrowed.

"If you must put it that way," Qaga conceded.

"Then let's proceed."

The nobles in the hall leaned forward, curious to see how Qaga would test Viserys. Qaga gave a few quick instructions to his apprentice, and after about a quarter of an hour, two alchemist apprentices approached, carrying trays with goblets of wine.

"Lord Viserys," Qaga began, "one of these two glasses contains Lys's Tears, a poison I'm sure you've heard of, and the other is simply wine. One of these apprentices will speak the truth, and the other will lie..."

As Qaga explained the rules, many in the room exchanged uneasy glances, thinking Qaga was pushing his luck. Using poison in such a way was risky. Qaga's plan was simple: if Viserys hesitated, it would cast doubt on his abilities, allowing the guild to push for better terms and solidify its influence.

But before Qaga could finish explaining the "rules," Viserys acted. Without a moment's hesitation, he poured both glasses of wine into his mouth, drank them down, and then shattered the goblets on the ground.

"I bet there's no poison in your wine!" he declared, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.

In truth, Viserys had calculated that the wine was likely harmless. It was a high-stakes gamble, but he knew Lys needed him more than he needed them. Though he had already laid out why Tyrosh was about to face trouble, another crucial factor loomed: time. Without a swift and suitable ally, Tyrosh would break through Lys's defenses, and while the invaders might eventually retreat, the nobles' wealth would be plundered.

Lys desperately needed an emissary, and they needed one quickly.

Viserys assumed the wine was likely safe. But even if it wasn't, he was unafraid—he could ignite a flame in his stomach to neutralize the poison. As he lifted the glass, he discreetly opened his status panel, keeping a close eye on his "Health" attribute. When no reaction occurred, he was certain. Even if there had been a reaction, it would have only enhanced his mystique. Although not as dramatic as Daenerys's immunity to fire, the sight of someone drinking poison and remaining unharmed would be chilling enough to make an impression.

Qaga was stunned by Viserys's audacity. 'This is poison! Deadly poison! How could he not hesitate for even a second?' In truth, Qaga hadn't poisoned the wine; he had been bluffing, trying to test Viserys's resolve. Now, he found himself the one outmaneuvered.

Viserys turned to the assembled nobles with a calm smile. "How about it, my lords? Is my courage sufficient?"

Qaga, feeling the situation slip from his grasp, conceded with a hint of reluctance. "Enough, but..." He still harbored doubts and wanted to use his wit to counter Viserys, but before he could, Viserys laid out his reasoning with such clarity that Qaga found himself with nothing more to say. With the five-year contract secured, the Windblown would soon triple in size, quickly becoming the largest army in the Free Cities.

...

After the meeting, Viserys and Qaga accompanied Tregar to his mansion. Though the title "Merchant Prince" was more symbolic than substantive, the mansion lived up to the name. While it couldn't rival the grandeur of the Sealord's palace in Braavos or the Archon's residence in Tyrosh, the estate boasted an impressive fountain, garden statues, and a five-story house that showcased the wealth of its owner.

As soon as the carriage arrived, a slender blonde woman in a flowing blue gauze dress approached to greet them.

"You're back, my love," she said, her voice soft and welcoming.

"Yes, my love," Tregar replied, exchanging a few affectionate words with her.

The woman then turned to Qaga, acknowledging him politely, "Lord Qaga." When her eyes fell on Viserys, she hesitated. 'And this is…?'

"I'm just a mercenary," Viserys interjected before Tregar could respond. The woman's initial interest waned immediately at this modest introduction.

"Just call me Lynesse," she offered, though her enthusiasm had noticeably dimmed. This was Lynesse Hightower, Jorah's former wife.

"Let's go inside," Tregar suggested, relieved that Viserys had kept his identity concealed. Lynesse knew that Jorah had joined the Windblown and had recently led them to victory against Lys's forces. The thought had kept her awake at night, haunted by the memory of how she had flaunted her relationship with Tregar in front of Jorah. If Jorah had truly attacked Lys, she feared she might not have escaped unscathed. Had she known Viserys's true identity, she likely would have broken down in tears.

The three of them proceeded to Tregar's secret chamber to discuss the next steps.

"When do you plan to depart, my lord?" Tregar inquired.

"I'll need to dye my hair first," Viserys replied. Tregar blinked in surprise but quickly understood. With Viserys's unmistakable silver hair and purple eyes, he would be recognized long before he reached the shore.

"How about three days from now? We'll prepare a ship for you," Tregar suggested, nodding in agreement.

Chapter 136: Natural Selection, Set Sail!

Viserys still found it strange to see his reflection in the mirror. His once silver hair had been dyed brown to make him less conspicuous. Though he couldn't change the color of his eyes, he planned to travel to Dorne disguised as a merchant from the Free Cities, relying mostly on Regis to communicate since the man spoke the Common Tongue fluently. To further avoid recognition, Viserys wore a headband to conceal his hair roots, knowing that while Dorne was far from the heart of Westeros and regularly dealt with the Free Cities, it was still wise to be cautious.

"My lord, the ship is ready," Regis informed him.

"Good, let's go," Viserys replied, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. 'Westeros, here I come!'

When they reached the harbor, a gathering of nobles awaited them, eager for the news Viserys would bring. Tregar and Qaga approached him to offer final instructions.

"Lord Viserys, this is the ship I've prepared for you," Tregar said, pointing to a large, wind-powered sailboat.

The ship, from the Summer Isles, was called the Swan. It was renowned for its speed and grace under sail, though it wasn't as reliable in calm weather. The choice of the Swan was also a strategic move, meant to distract and mislead those with ulterior motives.

"There are twenty sailors, a hundred Unsullied, and two virgins in the bedchamber. Consider this a gift from House Tyrell," Tregar said, handing Viserys a bronze scepter. The scepter was a token of command; the Unsullied, having been rigorously trained, followed the scepter, not the person.

"That will do," Viserys nodded in approval.

"In addition, we've arranged for someone to accompany you to Sunspear."

"Who?" Viserys asked.

"Feles Rogare," Tregar answered, gesturing toward a young man standing at the bow of the ship.

Rogare. The name stirred memories. Although it had been over a century since the Targaryens and House Rogare were connected by blood, both houses had seen their fortunes wane. 'Now, we're in the same boat,' Viserys mused.

"Master Qaga, I'd like to speak with Lord Viserys privately," Tregar said.

Qaga, sensing it was a minor matter, nodded and stepped aside.

"Lord Viserys, I know that Ser Jorah is also in the Windblown with you, so..."

"So you're concerned that I might help him take revenge on you," Viserys interjected. "That's between the two of you. I won't get involved."

Tregar felt a wave of relief at Viserys's assurance. At such a critical juncture, it was crucial to minimize suspicion and old grudges.

"But you did take another man's wife. Just compensate him fairly. The exact amount is up to you two to negotiate—I won't be part of it."

Tregar agreed, understanding that his methods in taking Lynesse had been less than honorable. If the issue could be resolved with money, it was no longer a concern.

"Oh, by the way, Lord, this ship doesn't have a name yet. Would you care to christen it?" Tregar asked.

"The Natural Selection," Viserys declared. "Set sail..."

With that command, the white sails unfurled, and the Natural Selection began to glide out of the harbor. Its high, pointed bow resembled a swan's neck, giving the ship a proud and elegant appearance. Among the more conventional vessels docked nearby, it stood out, cutting a striking figure as it sailed away.

The wind caught the sails with a sudden force, propelling the ship forward as Lys, perched on its rocky island, began to shrink in the distance. The island and its buildings soon blended into the horizon until they were indistinguishable from the landscape. Gazing out at the endless expanse of sea and sky, Viserys felt as if he were suspended in a vast, boundless blue canvas. Overhead, a golden eagle soared, vigilant as it scanned the waters below. In the distance, a few ships dotted the horizon, but Viserys's thoughts were already drifting toward Westeros.

House Targaryen and House Martell had a long and complex history—one marked by both enmity and alliance. When the first Targaryens arrived in Westeros, the Dornish had famously killed one of his dragons. For the next hundred years, the two sides were in a constant cycle of war. Dorne would surrender, only to rebel again, and then surrender once more.

Yet, during the War of the Usurper, Dorne had supported the Iron Throne, standing alongside the Targaryens—a loyalty largely due to Elia Martell. Viserys, however, was too experienced in the world of politics to interpret these alliances in such simple, emotional terms. Dorne's resistance to Targaryen rule when they were strong had bolstered House Martell's internal cohesion and solidified their prestige. When the Iron Throne was in jeopardy, Dorne's decision to support it was a calculated move to secure a better political position. Their survival strategy lay in maintaining a delicate balance.

Just as the Tullys of Riverrun relied on strategic marriages, the Starks of the North on their vast, icy expanse, and the Arryns of the Vale on the natural fortifications of their mountain streams, so too did House Martell navigate its way through shifting allegiances. With the Targaryens having lost their dragons, the ambitious lords of the Seven Kingdoms had been eager to seize power. Each noble house had its own strategy for survival.

This time, Viserys had brought a significant bargaining chip: the port of Tyrosh. In his vision, if Tyrosh could be captured, it would be jointly governed by Lys, Sunspear, and the Windblown, giving him a foothold in the region. As a crucial maritime hub, Tyrosh was a valuable prize, ripe for exploitation. But what exactly House Martell wanted from this arrangement would have to be discovered in due time.

As Viserys paced the deck, deep in thought, the captain—a seasoned mariner in his forties—watched him with respect. The sailors, though older than Viserys, regarded him with a mixture of awe and caution, aware of his reputation for beheading pirates, including the notorious Bloodbeard. These men belonged to Tregar, and while Viserys had little interest in them, his attention was drawn to the hundred Unsullied aboard the ship. This was his first close encounter with the famed warriors.

The Unsullied were organized into four groups, patrolling the deck with military precision. Unlike the green-haired Unsullied of Tyrosh, these soldiers had short, uniform haircuts. Their eyes were devoid of emotion—blank and numb, a testament to the brutal training they had endured. The Wise Masters of Astapor had learned that selling the Unsullied in small groups made them more prone to developing self-awareness and becoming "disobedient." Thus, they were typically sold in batches of at least one hundred, ensuring their loyalty through sheer numbers.

Viserys was determined to gain complete control over the Unsullied, to transform them from mere weapons into an army under his command. He decided to issue his first order. "Unsullied, assemble!" he commanded.

The captain of the Unsullied echoed the order, and within moments, the hundred warriors had formed ten precise rows. A lieutenant stood to the side, while the captain positioned himself before Viserys.

The sailors on deck paused to watch, curious about what Viserys would do next. "Master, the Unsullied are assembled," the captain reported, staring straight ahead, avoiding Viserys's gaze. The helmets of the squad leaders and captains had spines that were noticeably taller than those of the rank-and-file soldiers, signifying their status.

Viserys, holding the scepter of command, pointed to an ordinary Unsullied in the ranks. "You! Kill him!" he ordered, indicating the captain standing before him.

The captain flinched slightly, closing his eyes as if bracing for death, showing no intention of resisting. The designated Unsullied soldier did not hesitate. He thrust his spear forward, aiming for his captain's heart. But just before the spear struck, Viserys caught it with one hand, stopping it cold.

The force Viserys exerted stunned the soldier; he had put all his strength into the thrust, yet Viserys had halted it effortlessly. "Return to your unit," Viserys commanded, his gaze now fixed on the captain, whose expression was taut, as if he was suppressing his fear of death.

Feles Rogare, who had been observing from a distance, watched with keen interest. He had seen other masters test the loyalty of their Unsullied in similar ways, but what Viserys did next took him by surprise.

"From now on, you are free men," Viserys declared.

To his surprise, the Unsullied showed no reaction. There was no excitement, no confusion—nothing but the same blank, robotic stares. They remained standing at attention, as if the concept of freedom was utterly foreign to them.

'It seems the deep-seated inhuman training of the Unsullied cannot be undone with just a few words,' Viserys mused, watching the thirty or so Unsullied remain unmoved by his promise of freedom. 'How did the Mother of Dragons command the loyalty of 8,000 Unsullied with a single act of fire?'

This lack of response was troubling, and Viserys knew he needed to take stronger action.

"Regis, bring me five thousand gold dragons," he ordered.

Though uncertain of Viserys's intentions, Regis obediently fetched a money box.

"What is your name?" Viserys asked the captain of the Unsullied.

"Master, today I am Nail," the Unsullied replied, adhering to their practice of changing names daily to erase their identities.

"And what was your name before you became an Unsullied?" Viserys pressed.

The Unsullied captain hesitated, as if dredging up a distant memory. After a moment, he replied, "Master, I was called Conwyra."

"Conwyra," Viserys repeated. "Good. From now on, you all reclaim your original names as the first step toward becoming free men." He then addressed Conwyra directly, "Conwyra, you can count, correct?"

"Yes, my lord," Conwyra answered, though he noticed Viserys's deliberate use of his old name. He chose not to correct the title and decided to take things slowly.

"Very well. Distribute fifty gold dragons to each of your men as payment for their service this year. Take fifty more for yourself and twenty for your second-in-command."

"Master, we don't need money," Conwyra responded, confused by the order.

"This is not a suggestion; it is an order," Viserys replied firmly. "After we disembark, some of you will remain to guard the ship. The others will each buy five things of their choosing—anything you want, as long as you don't harm anyone."

"Yes, Master," Conwyra agreed, though the command left him puzzled. Viserys was determined to start retraining these Unsullied, gradually introducing them to the concept of autonomy and reward.

Viserys had a broader plan in mind. If he could gradually liberate and train these Unsullied, he would have a substantial force of at least 10,000 soldiers, both trained and untrained. Each would then adopt two or three orphans, passing on their newly regained family names and creating a loyal, self-perpetuating base of about 100,000 people. Such a force could ensure a steady supply of dedicated soldiers.

Of course, this was a long-term vision, inspired by the ancient Chinese army system, where the army's interests were closely aligned with those of the emperor, ensuring unwavering loyalty. However, Viserys recognized the challenges in implementing such a plan.

Meanwhile, Feles Rogare, who had been silently observing, was skeptical of Viserys's approach. To him, the Unsullied were tools—give them weapons and food, and they would fight. If they died, you simply bought more. Why complicate things with notions of freedom? Had it been anyone else, Feles might have openly criticized the effort. But this was Viserys, and he suspected there was a deeper reason behind his actions.

In truth, Feles admired Viserys, a young man who had already faced so much. He had heard about Viserys's fearless actions in the Great Hall—drinking what was likely poison without so much as flinching. If Viserys could one day reclaim the Iron Throne, Feles saw a chance to restore his own family's honor.

Sensing an opportunity, Feles stepped forward. "My lord—"

"Brother, we're in this together now," Viserys interrupted, surprising Feles. He hadn't expected such familiarity. But it made sense; both their houses had suffered great losses. House Rogare, once powerful in Lys, had seen its influence wane, much like House Targaryen's fall from grace. Both families had once been pillars of power and wealth, only to lose everything and become shadows of their former selves.

"My lord, I actually brought someone else on board," Feles confessed.

"A woman?" Viserys asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"It's fine. Just be careful," Viserys replied.

"She's my sister," Feles added, a note of concern in his voice.

"It's fine. Your sister is my sister. But let this be the last time. Don't complicate things before we reach our goal," Viserys cautioned, making it clear that he preferred to avoid unnecessary entanglements.

Feles was a bit disappointed by Viserys's response. Although he hadn't endorsed Feles's methods, Viserys hadn't outright rejected the possibility of collaboration.

"Let me ask you something," Viserys said, shifting the conversation.

"Prince, please go ahead," Feles replied, intrigued.

"During the battle at Dragon's Flame Fortress, why didn't you suggest sending an army to contain the Windblown?" Viserys asked, wanting to gauge the tactical acumen of the Free Cities' generals. If they were all as shortsighted as he feared, he might need to adopt a more aggressive approach.

"My lord, the main reason was that Rovi believed you wouldn't join a losing battle, so he wanted to end it quickly. I did suggest sending troops to contain the Windblown, but Rovi dismissed my advice," Feles explained.

Viserys was surprised, realizing that Feles might have more potential than he initially thought. If Feles had this level of insight, he could be a valuable ally.

"Let's share a meal together," Viserys offered, warming to the idea of working more closely with Feles. "And invite your sister to join us."

Chapter 137: Lingerie Creativity

Feles and his sister Shinelli were true heirs of Valyria, their heritage evident in their silvery-blonde hair and striking blue eyes. At fifteen, Shinelli was naturally nervous when she finally stood before Viserys.

Part of her apprehension stemmed from the stories her brother had told her. Feles had described Viserys as a man who had slain the infamous Bloodbeard—a feat that made him even more fearsome than the pirate himself. She imagined Viserys as a ruthless warrior, possibly even using witchcraft to dispatch hundreds of pirates in a single battle. The image of a cold-blooded killer, one who treated human life as insignificant, had taken root in her mind. So when Feles told her she would be meeting Viserys aboard the ship, Shinelli had been terrified.

But as soon as Viserys appeared before her, all those fears melted away, replaced by a sense of shyness and nervousness.

"My lord, this is Shinelli," Feles introduced her.

"Hello, Shinelli," Viserys greeted her warmly.

"Good afternoon, Lord," she replied, her voice soft and tentative.

Feles was confident in his sister's beauty. In Lys, even the "Prince of Diplomacy" had sent emissaries hoping to make Shinelli his concubine, despite being nearly sixty years old. The man's wealth and influence were overwhelming, and although Feles wanted to refuse, doing so risked social and political exclusion. Fortunately, the old man suffered a stroke before any arrangement could be made, sparing Shinelli from such a fate.

However, over the past two years, Feles had been under constant pressure. Various powerful men expressed interest in Shinelli, and he knew that if he didn't find a suitable protector soon, his sister might end up as someone's plaything. After careful consideration, Feles decided that Viserys was the best option—a man who could both help restore the Rogare family and ensure Shinelli's safety.

To Feles's surprise, though, Viserys seemed uninterested in his sister, focusing instead on asking him pointed questions.

"So you invested heavily in the battle for Dragon's Flame Fortress?" Viserys inquired.

"Yes, my lord," Feles replied. "Winning that battle would have given House Rogare a chance to reclaim our place among the nobility."

"Under any system, military merit is always the quickest path to advancement. So, what's your plan now?" Viserys pressed.

Feles hesitated, then said, "If I'm fortunate enough to help you form this alliance, I should have a chance." The uncertainty in his voice was clear when he said "should."

"If you achieve noble status, how long do you think it will take to restore House Rogare to its former glory?"

Feles smiled bitterly. "Honestly, I've never considered reaching the heights of my ancestors. To do that, I'd need immense wealth—or even an army."

"What's your opinion of Windblown?" Viserys asked, his gaze intense.

Feles felt a dryness in his throat as he met Viserys's eyes, recalling the "permanent contract" between Viserys and Lys. With that contract, the Windblown would control nearly half of Lys's defense forces. Feles knew that such power would soon have many people vying for the Windblown's favor.

"You… you want Lys?" Feles stammered, unable to mask his surprise.

"We want Lys," Viserys confirmed, his voice steady.

Feles hadn't expected to reach this point so quickly in their first meeting. There hadn't even been a hint of caution or testing. In Viserys's eyes, Feles was like a smaller version of his former self, though with greater ambition. The fact that Feles was willing to use his sister as a bargaining chip suggested he had his own agenda. And since they were alone at sea, it was a perfect opportunity to speak candidly.

"I am willing to pledge my loyalty to the Prince!" Feles declared, dropping to one knee and drawing his sword in a gesture of fealty. Shinelli, who had been standing by, was unsure of what was happening, but seeing her brother's commitment, she quickly lifted her skirt and knelt behind him.

Viserys smiled and reached out to help Feles to his feet. "You have sworn your loyalty to me, and I will help you restore your house," he promised. Then, turning to Shinelli, he added, "Shinelli, you can rise as well."

With the formalities over, the conversation turned to the Alchemist's Guild. Feles explained that the guild, in reality, controlled a vast array of industries, though many members held the title of alchemist without truly practicing the craft. In an era where alchemy had declined, few were interested in continuing its study.

"When we return to Lys, you'll need to help me recruit some true alchemists and gather alchemical notes and books. I'll provide the funding," Viserys instructed.

"Yes, my lord," Feles agreed, unsurprised by the request. He even suspected that Viserys might be an alchemist himself, given the rumors that he had used alchemy to kill pirates.

Viserys, however, politely declined Feles's subtle offer of his sister's company. He felt a sense of camaraderie with Feles, seeing in him a reflection of his own past struggles. He might have been able to take advantage of Shinelli, but he knew he couldn't betray the trust of her brother.

...

Later that evening, Viserys retired to his suite, the most spacious and luxurious on the ship. It featured not only a bedroom but also a tea room and a servant's quarters. As he entered the bedroom, he found two bed slaves kneeling by the bed, dressed in gauzy garments, awaiting his arrival.

'Tsk… no creativity,' Viserys thought, considering how uninspired their attire was. He mused that he should introduce new forms of lingerie—bikinis, thongs, and other provocative garments—that could stimulate the senses.

Stockings might be difficult to produce, but Myr was known for its lace, and he could certainly start there. As for the inventor? Feles could serve as the face, providing technical support while Viserys handled production and sales.

Although Viserys had accumulated considerable wealth in Braavos, his funds were not always readily accessible. The dividends from his soap business weren't enough to support his ambitions, so he needed to find new ways to generate income. And what better way than through legitimate business, rather than plundering? Of course, Tyrosh's siege had cost the city dearly, and he intended to extract as much as possible from them.

The swan ship proved to be exceptionally fast, especially with favorable winds. It took less than four days to sail from Lys to Dorne. To avoid unnecessary conflict, Viserys ordered the ship to steer clear whenever the Golden Eagle spotted a pirate vessel.

As they approached Dorne, Viserys's thoughts drifted to the ancient history of Westeros. In the distant past, the ancestors of the present-day Westerosi had crossed a land bridge to reach the continent, which was once connected to Essos. Their arrival brought invasion and slaughter, forcing the original inhabitants, the Children of the Forest, to seek the help of the Greenseers. According to legend, hundreds of Greenseers gathered to sever the land bridge, creating "The Broken Arm" and "The Stepstones."

This act didn't halt the decline of the Children of the Forest, who eventually fled beyond the Wall. In another world, Viserys might have dismissed such stories as mere fantasy, but in the world of ice and fire, they stirred his curiosity. Could the Greenseers really have wielded enough power to shatter the earth? And what of the White Walkers, creatures supposedly created by the Greenseers? Were they truly as dangerous as the legends suggested?

These thoughts troubled Viserys. If the Greenseers were so powerful, could the wights they created be more than just skeletal zombies? How could such creatures, seemingly fragile and prone to falling apart, pose a threat to all of humanity? Perhaps they were more formidable than he had imagined.

But the most pressing question of all lingered in his mind: why had the Valyrians, with all their dragons and magic, stopped their expansion at Dragonstone? They had established colonies across the world, dominating for five thousand years. What could have possibly made the Dragonlords feel threatened enough to halt their conquest?

Chapter 138: Red Viper

Setting aside his lingering doubts for the moment, Viserys focused on the task at hand as the Natural Selection arrived at Planky Town, the largest port in Dorne. The harbor was crowded with ships of all sizes, making it a challenge for Viserys's captain to navigate the vessel into a berth. The sweltering heat of Dorne was intensified by the dense throng of people and ships, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

The port was a melting pot of cultures, with vessels from all corners of the world. Viserys noticed some Tyroshi among the crowd, identifiable by their high-pitched voices and flamboyantly dyed red and blue hair.

To his surprise, he even spotted a ship from House Zalyne, raising the possibility of encountering a familiar face. The ships were so tightly packed that people on neighboring cargo vessels could easily converse across the narrow gaps. He also observed several merchants accompanied by Unsullied, as well as a fortress nearby, presumably to maintain order and provide protection.

Planky Town had been founded by a group of Rhoynar who arrived in Dorne with Queen Nymeria. Unwilling to fully integrate into Dornish society, they had established their own community here. These settlers, known as the "orphans of the Greenblood," lived not in houses but on boats, which they regarded as their homes. They conducted all aspects of their lives—living, eating, and trading—on the water. Despite being destroyed twice by the Targaryens, Planky Town had always rebounded quickly, thanks to its strategic location.

Viserys, however, suspected there was more to the story. He doubted that the orphans of the Greenblood were simply reluctant to integrate; he believed they were guarding something. The Rhoynar were once masters of water magic, capable of causing the Rhoyne River to swell and drown their enemies. 'Perhaps the legacy of that magic still lingers here,' he thought. But for now, his priority was to meet with Prince Doran.

Just as Viserys and his companions finished mooring the ship and prepared to disembark, a commotion erupted from the vessels behind them.

"Make way! Lord Oberyn's ship is coming!"

'Oberyn! The Red Viper!' Viserys was startled to hear the name. He hadn't expected to encounter Oberyn Martell here, by chance. In the stories, Oberyn was notorious for his deadly prowess and his dramatic demise.

He was also famous for two things: his skill with poisons and his eight bastard daughters, known as the Sand Snakes. Their mothers came from all walks of life—prostitutes, nobles, captains, even holy sisters. By now, according to the timeline of Game of Thrones, his two youngest daughters should be old enough to run around.

Viserys looked toward the source of the commotion and saw a swan ship with a sunburst sail approaching the dock. Other ships waiting to enter the harbor quickly moved aside to allow it passage. Standing at the bow was Oberyn, accompanied by a woman with reddish-brown hair. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, but there was an unmistakable sensuality in her every movement. This was Ellaria Sand, the mother of Oberyn's four youngest daughters.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer? I've learned a few new tricks lately," Ellaria teased, looking up at Oberyn with a playful glint in her eye as she breathed against his neck.

"Oh? Little Loreza is already walking, and you've got new tricks?" Oberyn replied with a smirk. Loreza was their fourth child, and despite being a mother of four, Ellaria's skin was still smooth and firm. She was confident she could give Oberyn another child, preferably a boy—not because she had a preference, but after eight daughters, why not add a son to the mix?

"You keep getting me pregnant; I don't have time to show off my tricks," Ellaria purred, her voice dripping with seduction as she reached for Oberyn's "little viper." The two of them shared a deep, passionate kiss at the bow of the ship, oblivious to the world around them.

From his vantage point on the Natural Selection, Viserys observed the couple's interaction, noting the contrast between their nobility and their wild, unrestrained passion. Despite their differences, they were a perfect match, and it was no wonder they had so many children together. If their connection was this strong, Viserys mused, it wouldn't be surprising if they ended up with four more.

"Perhaps we should approach the Red Viper directly and ask him to take us to Sunspear," Viserys suggested to Feles.

"Is that wise, my lord?" Feles hesitated.

"It's a secret alliance. What's the point of worrying about appearances?"

Meanwhile, Oberyn was intrigued when his servant informed him that envoys from Lys had arrived. He was aware of Lys's precarious situation—the city had lost the Two Lakes in its war with Tyrosh and was likely facing another attack soon. It was clear they had come seeking aid, but Oberyn found it curious that they had chosen to approach Sunspear. There was no natural alliance between the two, and the distance alone made such a request unusual; it would take an ordinary warship at least a week to reach Lys.

However, Oberyn's curiosity was piqued. He had always been drawn to the unknown and the unconventional. In fact, he had long harbored a desire to explore the ruins of Valyria, a pursuit his brother, Prince Doran, had strictly forbidden.

"Very well, let them come to my carriage," Oberyn instructed.

Viserys was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly things were progressing. Meeting with Oberyn so quickly meant he would soon have an audience with Prince Doran. After a moment's thought, Viserys decided to keep his true identity concealed for now. It might be considered impolite by some, but he doubted Oberyn would mind.

Shortly thereafter, Viserys and Feles arrived at the appointed carriage. The procession was modest, with six or seven horsemen and a small guard. The carriage was drawn by eight "sandstriders," a breed of horse unique to Dorne, known for their endurance and ability to run for two days without food or water. Inside the spacious carriage, Oberyn and Ellaria were comfortably seated, while their children rode in another carriage. They had planned to indulge in a final moment of leisure before arriving in Sunspear, once they had dealt with the Lysene envoy.

As Viserys and Feles approached, Ellaria peeked through the carriage curtains.

"The one with the brown hair—it's dyed," Ellaria observed.

"Hmm, I feel like I've seen him somewhere before," Oberyn mused.

"Hmph, when someone is attractive, people often think they've seen them before," Ellaria remarked with a playful smirk.

"Here they come," Oberyn said, dismissing the thought as he prepared to greet the envoys.

As Viserys and Feles entered the carriage, Feles spoke first. "Prince Oberyn, I am Feles, envoy of Lys, and I seek an audience with Prince Doran."

Chapter 139: First Encounter with the Red Viper

'These two... something's off,' Viserys noted, sensing that both the Red Viper and Ellaria were giving him more than just passing glances while Feles spoke. Their expressions suggested more than simple curiosity. Viserys recalled that the couple was rumored to be "bisexual," but even so, what exactly were they contemplating? And if things took a turn, who would be leading whom?

But Oberyn quickly shifted his focus back to the matter at hand. He was well aware of Prince Doran's illness, knowing that unless absolutely necessary, Doran was unlikely to meet with them. The unpredictable nature of his condition meant that he rarely appeared in public, reserving his presence for only his closest advisers and family.

Oberyn scanned the contract documents Feles presented, then said, "You can stay in Sunspear for now. We'll give you an answer soon."

"Thank you, Prince Oberyn. When will we be able to meet Prince Doran?" Feles inquired.

"When the time is right, you'll meet him," Oberyn replied, his tone neutral. Then, with a sudden shift, he asked, "I've heard that Viserys Targaryen killed off many pirates leaders. Is that true?"

Feles instinctively turned his gaze toward Viserys but caught himself just in time. However, the slight hesitation didn't escape Oberyn's sharp eyes. In an instant, the playful glint in Oberyn's expression darkened, and his black eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, as if he were ready to strike.

Viserys hadn't anticipated being exposed so quickly. Seeing no point in further pretense, he removed his hairband, revealing the silver-white roots of his hair. A subtle spark flickered in his eyes as he spoke, "Viserys Targaryen greets Prince Oberyn."

Even someone as astute as Oberyn was momentarily thrown off balance. The last report he'd received had placed Viserys with the Windblown, fighting for Tyrosh—yet here he was, claiming to be Lys's envoy and standing in Dorne.

"You're Viserys!?" Ellaria, who had remained silent until now, exclaimed in shock.

Viserys offered a composed smile. "I wonder, Prince Oberyn, will you catch up with me first, or would you rather hear my story?"

After a brief pause, Oberyn's eyes lit up with the excitement of a treasure hunter who had just stumbled upon a priceless artifact. He scrutinized Viserys as if seeing him for the first time.

"First, tell me how you became Lys's envoy," Oberyn demanded, his curiosity piqued.

"Of course," Viserys replied, launching into an account that began with the events at Dragon's Flame Fortress. As he explained his plan to forge an alliance between Sunspear, Lys, Myr, and Pentos to collectively challenge Tyrosh, Oberyn's initial shock deepened into amazement. What at first sounded like a fantastical tale began to make strategic sense.

If Tyrosh gained control of the Stepstones, they would undoubtedly impose heavy tolls, directly impacting the interests of House Martell. But if, as Viserys proposed, Tyrosh could be held by a coalition of powers, it would not only protect Dorne's interests but also attract more merchants to do business in the region, increasing trade and tax revenues.

Oberyn, now thoroughly intrigued, found himself caught between admiration for Viserys's boldness and the realization of the significant stakes involved.

"If you were Rhaegar, the Targaryens would never have lost the Iron Throne," the Red Viper remarked bluntly, a hint of admiration in his voice. He was glad that a secret marriage pact had already tied this impressive young man to House Martell.

"My Prince, that's a high compliment, but perhaps not entirely appropriate," Viserys replied with a smile.

The Red Viper laughed, acknowledging his mistake. "Haha, fair enough. Now, tell me about those pirates."

"I actually used poison—more specifically, a kind of gas," Viserys explained.

"Poison gas!?" Feles and Ellaria leaned in, intrigued. The idea of a weapon like poison gas was both terrifying and exciting. After all, what armor could protect against an invisible toxin? Not even the legendary Valyrian steel could fend off such a threat.

However, as Viserys detailed the limitations of the poison gas, they realized it was not as universally devastating as they had imagined. A mix of relief and disappointment washed over them. Still, the fact that Viserys had dared to lead a small band into the heart of a pirate lair spoke volumes about his courage—comparable to the legendary "Fearless Barristan."

Planky Town was not far from Sunspear, and perhaps Viserys's tale was so engrossing that Oberyn and Ellaria forgot about their earlier plans for a more intimate journey. Before long, Sunspear loomed in the distance.

The city jutted out into the land, with two slender, pointed towers—the Tower of the Sun and the Spear Tower—dominating the skyline. These structures, symbols of the union between House Nymeros Martell and the Rhoynar, were a stark contrast to the architecture of Valyria and Westeros, offering a glimpse into the remnants of Rhoynar civilization.

"Let's head straight to the Water Gardens," Oberyn suggested. "My brother spends most of his time there."

"No problem," Viserys agreed.

"By the way, how is Daenerys, Prince?" Oberyn inquired.

"She's safe and well-protected," Viserys assured him.

Oberyn nodded, remembering rumors he had heard about Viserys in Braavos. There had been whispers of a strained relationship between the siblings, but the fact that Viserys hadn't sold Daenerys yet spoke well of his character.

As they made their way westward to the Water Gardens, a palace surrounded by lush flowers and trees soon came into view.

"Incidentally, the first owner of the Water Gardens was also named Daenerys," Oberyn mentioned with a knowing wink, his expression carrying a hint of suggestion.

Viserys caught the meaning. He wasn't opposed to the idea of a marriage alliance, but he knew he needed stronger bargaining chips. Just as the Viserys of old had boldly sought alliances with little more than his sister to offer, this Viserys was keenly aware that while his position had improved, it was still not strong enough to negotiate on such terms. Without a dragon or something of equal value, he couldn't entertain the idea of marriage just yet.

"You don't need to accompany me any further," Viserys said to Feles. "Wait for my news." Understanding that Prince Doran's condition made personal introductions delicate, Viserys preferred to approach the matter himself. Feles nodded in agreement, having no objections.

Unaware that Viserys was already privy to Doran's illness, Oberyn nevertheless approved of his discretion.

Once they arrived at the Water Gardens, Feles, Ellaria, and the children were escorted away by servants, while Oberyn led Viserys through a series of fountains to a secluded courtyard. Oberyn deliberately slowed their pace, subtly guiding Viserys around the palace. Viserys understood that Oberyn was allowing time for someone to check on Doran's condition, and he used the moment to refine his strategy for convincing the ruler of Sunspear to join his proposed alliance.

Chapter 140: Secret Marriage Pact

The Water Gardens, with their abundant lemon and orange groves, offered a natural refuge from the relentless Dornish heat. The fountains scattered throughout the grounds kept the air pleasantly cool year-round. In the distance, the cheerful sound of children's laughter echoed, adding a lively warmth to the tranquil surroundings. Two older girls were playing with a young boy. Though the girls had different skin tones, their facial features were strikingly similar, marking them as the bastard daughters of the Red Viper. The boy, about ten years old, was Prince Doran's youngest son, Trystane.

Despite his frail health and having delegated most of his responsibilities to Manfrey, Doran still handled the kingdom's most crucial decisions. He sat in a large, custom-made chair, one so expansive that he could lie down if needed, sipping tea and contemplating the state of affairs in Dorne.

A servant approached Doran, interrupting his thoughts. "Prince, Prince Oberyn has returned."

A flicker of joy passed through Doran's eyes but quickly faded. "Let him in."

Moments later, Doran spotted Oberyn emerging from the tree-lined avenue. His two daughters and young Trystane were the first to notice him.

"Father!"

"Father!"

The two girls, abandoning their play, ran to Oberyn, who greeted them warmly before scooping up Trystane and making his way toward Doran.

The two brothers bore a strong resemblance to one another, though Oberyn's features were more angular, and his skin was darker from his travels.

"Prince, I'm back," Oberyn announced with a mischievous smile that spoke more of a rogue than a father.

"Haha, I thought you were off drinking with the Emperor of Yi Ti. I didn't expect you back so soon. How many children did you bring back this time?" Doran teased, his tone light.

Oberyn set Trystane down and took a seat. "Two."

"From the same mother?" Doran asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. My feelings for Ellaria are still strong," Oberyn replied with a grin, though there was something more behind his eyes—a desire to share news.

Doran noticed the eagerness in his brother's expression. "If you have something to say, don't hold it in."

Suppressing a laugh, Oberyn leaned in. "Guess who else I brought back this time?"

"Who? Viserys?"

"How did you know?" Oberyn's surprise was genuine.

"You really brought him back?" Doran's disbelief was evident. He had never met Viserys and harbored no personal affection for him. To Doran, Viserys was merely an "investment project"—one that might yield results but wouldn't be mourned if it failed. The idea that Oberyn had actually brought him to Dorne was unsettling. Even if Viserys were to marry Arianne one day, now was not the time! To Doran, Oberyn's actions seemed reckless.

"You're mad! What are you thinking, bringing him here now?" Doran's voice carried a rare edge of reprimand. Normally, he turned a blind eye to Oberyn's wild escapades—even his eight bastards were of little concern. But when it came to the future of House Martell and Dorne's interests, Doran was exceptionally cautious. Seeing his brother so agitated startled Oberyn.

"No, no, no, it's not what you think," Oberyn quickly reassured him. Despite Doran's usual tolerance, Oberyn deeply admired—and even slightly feared—his brother. "I just happened to run into him in Planky Town."

"By chance?!" Doran didn't press the issue, but his skeptical gaze spoke volumes: 'I don't believe you.'

Oberyn had no choice but to explain the circumstances of Viserys's arrival in detail.

"So he's here on behalf of Lys? But what's his connection to Lys?" Doran was baffled. Why would Viserys, supposedly still fighting for Tyrosh with the Windblown, now be representing Lys? The whole situation seemed perplexing.

As Oberyn continued to elaborate, Doran found himself both surprised and suspicious. 'What kind of mind does this young man have?' he wondered.

"Doran, should we meet him now? And how are you feeling?" Oberyn asked cautiously, noting his brother's condition.

"I'm fine," Doran replied, his voice steady. "Let's meet him." As Viserys was acting as an envoy for Lys, Doran reasoned, 'There shouldn't be any harm in proceeding.'

"Oh, and bring Manfrey as well," Doran added.

"Of course," Oberyn nodded.

After a brief hesitation, Doran added, "And Arianne too." He saw this as a chance to introduce Viserys to Arianne, allowing them to discuss the secret marriage pact. Doran couldn't help but envy the easy rapport Oberyn had with his daughters. As for the 'alliance' Viserys had proposed, Doran already planned to find a way to diplomatically decline it.

Meanwhile, Viserys was seated in a specially designed cool room, sipping herbal tea. The room featured a clever design with small holes on the inside walls and larger ones on the outside, allowing a gentle airflow that kept the space refreshingly cool. Viserys recognized the ingenuity of the Rhoynar, who had mastered the relationship between air and temperature.

As he waited, Viserys pondered what offer might truly capture Prince Doran's interest. After careful consideration, he realized he had little to offer beyond himself. A marriage alliance with House Martell, however, seemed risky. While short-term cooperation was acceptable, binding his interests to Dorne in the long run could do more harm than good.

From his golden eagle's vantage point, Viserys could see Oberyn meeting with Doran, but he had no idea what was being discussed. He mused that perhaps raising a flock of ravens to carry messages could give him more control over information, freeing him from dependence on others.

As the minutes ticked by, Viserys grew more certain that his caution was warranted. He had been waiting in the cool room for nearly half an hour, yet Doran had not summoned him. If Doran wasn't ill, then it was clear that Viserys's current strength wasn't enough to command his respect.

"Dragon, I need a dragon..." Viserys muttered to himself, longing for the day when a dragon would be reborn.

'According to the calendar, it's a year before the Red Comet appeared,' he reflected.

Just then, he saw Oberyn approaching the cool room.

"Prince," Viserys stood to greet him.

"Viserys, we'll need to wait a bit longer. You'll see Doran soon," Oberyn said.

"No problem," Viserys replied with a smile. He knew well enough that the one seeking help had to be patient.

Meanwhile, Arianne and Manfrey were making their way to the meeting. The two sat in silence in the carriage, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Arianne broke the silence.

"Uncle Manfrey, why did Father summon us so suddenly?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Chapter 141: The Dignity of an Elder

"I heard it's an envoy from Lys, and…" Manfrey hesitated slightly before continuing, "Viserys."

"Viserys? The Targaryen?"

"Yes."

"The same Viserys who claimed to have defeated all the pirates in the world not long ago? What's he doing at the Water Gardens?"

"I don't know," Manfrey replied, uncertainty evident in his voice.

Arianne didn't see her father, Doran, very often, so when she heard she was being summoned to the Water Gardens, she felt a flicker of happiness. But the news that Viserys was also there left her perplexed.

'Is he here to propose marriage? At this time?' she wondered, her mind racing. Although she was no longer the naive 14-year-old girl she once was, Arianne knew that Doran would never marry her to someone without status. But in her eyes, Viserys's current situation wasn't much better than that of a commoner. First, she had been surrounded by a circle of old men, and now, there was the prospect of a "lost soul." The thought only deepened her sadness.

Arianne resolved that when she met Viserys, she wouldn't be particularly welcoming.

The carriage carrying Arianne and Manfrey soon arrived at the Water Gardens. From the cool room, where Viserys was pretending to converse nonchalantly with Oberyn, he saw the carriage through his golden eagle's eyes. He knew that whoever was inside must be of importance. His suspicions were confirmed when a servant entered to inform Oberyn of their arrival.

"Let's go. It's time to see Prince Doran," Oberyn said to Viserys.

Perhaps it was prearranged, but as soon as they stepped out of the cool room, they encountered Arianne and Manfrey walking toward them. Manfrey, a cousin of House Martell, had a few strands of gray mingling with his jet-black hair. He was of medium height but had a stocky build. Upon seeing Viserys, he gave him a quick, appraising glance.

Then there was Arianne, standing no more than 1.6 meters tall, with a petite figure and large patches of olive skin on her arms and neck. She wore blue silk wide-legged trousers that, when caught by the wind, hinted at her full curves. As Arianne walked beside Manfrey, she first appeared taken aback by Viserys's presence, then puzzled. It wasn't until she drew closer that she noticed the silver roots peeking through his brown hair.

"This is Prince Viserys," Oberyn introduced. "Viserys, this is Arianne, and this is Ser Manfrey."

"Arianne, Ser Manfrey," Viserys greeted them with a nod.

"Prince Viserys," Manfrey replied, still curious about the young Targaryen standing before him.

Arianne, however, barely acknowledged him. She cast a brief glance at Viserys standing beside Oberyn, but her thoughts were preoccupied with how to defy Doran. She quickly shook off any impression of Viserys's "male beauty" and didn't even offer a nod or verbal response.

"Let's go see Prince Doran together," Oberyn suggested, trying to ease the tension.

As they walked, Arianne couldn't resist asking, "Lord Viserys, I thought you were still a sellsword in the Free Cities. How did you end up in Dorne?"

"Well, you don't even want to call me Prince," Viserys responded with a wry smile.

"Arianne!" Oberyn interjected, already developing a certain fondness for Viserys. He was irritated by Arianne's rudeness, but Viserys waved it off, unbothered.

"There's a saying: no one comes to Sunspear without an agenda," Viserys said calmly. "And I certainly have an agenda." Arianne gave a small, disdainful smile. "And where are your dragons? In the past, when the Targaryens wanted something from Dorne, they would arrive on dragonback—or at the very least, with an army in tow."

'Fine, fine, fine. You want to pick a fight?' Viserys thought to himself, reading her expression.

"Arianne!" Oberyn warned again. Viserys, however, simply smiled and responded, "That means that in the past, the Targaryens came to Dorne and took more than they left behind. Now, I'm bringing more than I'm taking. As for what I'm bringing, we'll discuss that when we meet Prince Doran." His words carried a subtle challenge, making it clear that his business was with Doran, not Arianne. After all, Viserys was her senior in terms of lineage.

Although Viserys kept his tone controlled, the underlying steel in his voice as he sparred verbally with Arianne earned him a measure of respect from both Manfrey and the Red Viper. Arianne, realizing she couldn't easily provoke him, fell silent. Soon, the group reached the heart of the Water Gardens, where Oberyn's two daughters hurriedly approached to greet them. They had already welcomed their father, but now their gazes turned to Viserys, their eyes sharp with curiosity rather than politeness.

Oberyn addressed his daughters, "Alright, I still have matters to discuss with your uncle. I'll check on your homework later."

Homework? Viserys thought, surprised that Oberyn, the notorious Red Viper, would assign his children such tasks.

"The fair-skinned one is Tyene; her mother is a holy sister," Oberyn said, introducing them with a touch of pride. "And the dark-skinned one is Sarella; her mother is a captain from the Summer Isles."

Viserys chuckled. "It seems neither the sea nor the gods can rival your charm." His compliment pleased Oberyn, though Arianne couldn't resist rolling her eyes. 'I never thought the Targaryens would fall so far,' she thought disdainfully, her contempt evident.

Arianne's behavior was becoming increasingly disrespectful, even grating on Manfrey's nerves. Oberyn also turned back, his face showing clear disapproval. But before anyone could reprimand her, Viserys deftly shifted the conversation.

"Prince Oberyn, have you ever wondered why all your children are girls?" he asked with a sly smile.

Oberyn, momentarily caught off guard, shrugged. "I've wondered, but it doesn't bother me. Though I wouldn't mind having another boy."

"Well, I've heard that the father determines the child's gender…" Viserys began, sharing some basic knowledge about fertility that seemed to genuinely intrigue Oberyn.

"So, you're saying it might be because I'm constantly handling poisons?" Oberyn mused, clearly intrigued by the idea. "Maybe if I avoid them for a while, I could have a son."

"Possibly," Viserys replied, though his aim wasn't really to help Oberyn have a son. He knew Oberyn's curiosity was piqued by anything new or unconventional. Strengthening personal ties with the Martells, even subtly, could only benefit Viserys in the long run. His casual indifference to Arianne, meanwhile, left her feeling as though she was swinging punches at empty air.

As they continued their conversation, they soon came into view of Prince Doran. From a distance, Doran noticed Viserys's reddish-brown hair and quickly deduced it was likely dyed for the sake of secrecy.

Viserys, too, had already considered the implications of the secret marriage pact before setting foot in Dorne. He was not eager to pursue a marriage alliance at this stage. If the Martells proposed one, it could complicate matters—he would have to refuse, but the challenge would be in doing so without offending them.

If the alliance between Lys and Dorne was agreed upon, Viserys had a plan to offer a gesture of goodwill: using blood magic to alleviate Doran's gout. While he couldn't cure the illness entirely, he could at least offer temporary relief from the excruciating pain. In his previous life, Viserys had heard gout described as feeling like walking on shards of glass, so even a temporary reprieve could elevate his standing with House Martell.

When Viserys finally stood before Doran, he saw a man whose illness had aged him beyond his years. Doran's eyes were sharp, scrutinizing Viserys with a cautious intensity.

"Greetings, Prince Doran," Viserys said, bowing respectfully. The glint of silver at his hairline and the unmistakable purple of his eyes seemed to ease some of the tension in the room.

"Prince Viserys, please, have a seat," Doran invited. Tyene and Sarella served tea as they all settled around a hand-woven table.

"I understand the Prince is here to discuss an alliance between Lys and Dorne?" Doran asked, his voice measured but curious.

Chapter 142: A War of Words

Like Oberyn, they initially found the proposed alliance from Lys perplexing. But as he explained the details to the group, the idea began to take shape.

When they learned that Viserys intended to form a "Ring of the Narrow Sea" alliance between Sunspear, Pentos, Myr, and Lys, the Martells were skeptical. Yet, after hearing his explanation, they realized the plan was not only bold but also feasible. Arianne, in particular, began to see Viserys in a new light—he was not the ineffectual figure she had imagined, but someone with a sharp strategic mind. She glanced at her father, Doran, to gauge his reaction.

In Doran's view, Viserys's plan was daring yet plausible. He exchanged a knowing look with Manfrey, both seeing in Viserys a glimmer of the young Aerys Targaryen. When Aerys was still in his prime, he had once proposed redirecting the waters of the Rainwood to nourish Dorne's deserts, creating fertile lands capable of supporting a larger population. However, the proposal was as daunting as moving mountains and, from a technical standpoint, nearly impossible without powerful magic.

With this in mind, Doran decided to test Viserys.

"So, in essence, the true strength behind this 'Alliance of Four' rests solely on Lys, which is on the brink of conquest?" Doran asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Can this so-called 'alliance ' be seen as nothing more than a 'plea for help'?" Doran's pointed question hung in the air as he, Arianne, Oberyn, and Manfrey all turned their eyes to Viserys, waiting for his response.

Viserys had anticipated this kind of scrutiny. After all, House Martell was far more formidable than Lys and wouldn't be swayed easily. Just as he was about to reply, Doran pressed further.

"Moreover, Prince Viserys, while your proposal to divide Tyrosh after the war is intriguing, wouldn't it be more advantageous for Sunspear to side with Tyrosh directly? We could negotiate higher tolls for ships bound for the northern Free Cities and lower fees for those heading to Dorne. Wouldn't that offer us greater profit with less risk?"

'Doran is more cunning than I expected,' Viserys thought, his mind racing.

"Prince, if I may, let me address these points one by one," Viserys said, standing and lifting his wine glass.

"First, forgive my bluntness, but what you've suggested relies heavily on the promises of Tyrosh. You must be aware that the Archons of Tyrosh are elected through highly corrupt and dishonest processes. The promises made by one Archon can easily be overturned by the next. In other words, Tyrosh lacks the consistency needed to uphold such an agreement."

Doran and Oberyn nodded in agreement, recognizing that Viserys had a keen understanding of Tyrosh's political landscape. Manfrey, who managed many of Dorne's day-to-day affairs, was particularly impressed.

"As I see it, promises from others aren't worth much—only what you secure for yourself has real value." Viserys's words struck a chord, prompting Oberyn to sit up with renewed interest. Even Tyene and Sarella, who had been quietly observing, were captivated by his confidence. While they didn't fully grasp the political nuances, Viserys's core message resonated.

'Only what you secure for yourself has real value!' Arianne repeated in her mind, finding herself increasingly drawn to Viserys's perspective.

Viserys continued, "Now, regarding the alliance you mentioned, I believe that all human relationships are, at their core, alliances—between brothers, fathers and sons, even rulers and subjects. Take the relationship between a father and son, for example. It's a alliance: the father imparts wisdom and wealth, and the son inherits his father's bloodline and legacy. The father doesn't dismiss the potential of his infant son but is invested in the strength he will one day achieve."

"Daughters can do the same," Arianne interjected, her voice firm. She agreed with Viserys's point but felt compelled to add her own perspective.

Viserys smiled and nodded. "Of course, Princess Arianne is absolutely right."

Arianne straightened in her seat, her eyes subtly flicking to her father. But Doran's expression remained impassive, leaving her feeling a twinge of disappointment.

'In a typical noble family, Arianne would not only be reprimanded for speaking out as a daughter but would likely face even harsher scolding as the family heir. Yet here, the Martells foster a remarkably open family atmosphere.' Standing from his unique perspective, Viserys noticed the difference in how the Martells operated.

He continued, "Although Lys is currently in a vulnerable position, it continues to draw the bulk of Tyrosh's forces. Especially after the heavy losses Tyrosh suffered at Dragon's Flame Fortress, they'll face significant challenges in capturing Lys—especially if the Windblown withdraws and turns against them."

Oberyn, having been a sellsword himself and even leading a mercenary group, immediately grasped the significance of Viserys's point. The potential for the Windblown to defect was crucial. While it wasn't unheard of for mercenary groups to switch sides during a conflict, established groups avoided such betrayals to maintain their reputation and ensure future work. Viserys's confidence made Oberyn wary.

"Why would the Windblown defect?" Oberyn asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I have an agreement with the leader of the Windblown, and I'm set to be the next leader of the company," Viserys replied calmly.

Oberyn's eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back in his chair. Viserys had only been a mercenary for a year and had already ascended to this level? 'What kind of prodigy is this boy?' he thought.

Arianne, sensing an opportunity, interjected, "Prince Viserys, didn't you just say that only what is in your hands truly belongs to you? If it's just a promise, how can it be counted?"

Her question echoed what both Doran and Oberyn were thinking.

"Princess, you might not be aware, but the Windblown currently consists of nine battalions. In addition to me, the sergeants of two battalions are my men, and three of them fought alongside me against the pirates in the Orange Shore Bay. Who else but me would be the next captain?"

By this point, Viserys had nearly convinced House Martell. Doran, in particular, looked at him with growing admiration.

"It seems the alliance the Prince proposes is entirely feasible," Doran said, glancing at Oberyn and Arianne, who both nodded in agreement.

"But as you mentioned, only what you control is truly yours. I'd like to secure a bit more control in this arrangement. What are your thoughts?"

Viserys exhaled, feeling a wave of relief. The intense debate had taken its toll, but the outcome seemed favorable. If Doran agreed, the alliance was already more than halfway secured.

"You did say you'd consider anything within my power," Viserys replied, his tone cautious.

Doran smiled and glanced at Tyene. "Fetch my gold box," he instructed.

"Yes, Prince," Tyene replied, leaving to retrieve it.

Turning back to Viserys, Doran said, "Prince, a marriage contract is also a form of alliance."

Chapter 143: A War of Words II

"Prince, a marriage contract is also a kind of alliance," Doran remarked, his tone both suggestive and pointed.

Viserys's performance had impressed everyone. Not only were Doran and Oberyn pleased, but even Arianne, who had initially been difficult, found her opinion of him shifting. She knew exactly what Doran was hinting at, and the realization made her usually confident heart race. She glanced at Viserys, then quickly looked away, her composure faltering. Doran, Oberyn, and Manfrey all watched Viserys with expectant smiles, making his heart pound with unease.

Viserys hadn't anticipated facing this situation so soon. Refusing the proposal could ruin the favorable position he had just established, but accepting it would likely place him under House Martell's control. He found himself trapped in a difficult dilemma. Adding to his anxiety was the fact that the Martells hadn't mentioned Arianne's past, particularly her lost virginity. While Viserys wasn't fixated on that detail, he was more concerned about the implications of a relationship he hadn't yet fully understood.

After a brief pause, Tyene returned with a gold-encrusted box. She opened it and removed a parchment tied with a fresh red ribbon, which looked as though it had been replaced multiple times. At Doran's subtle nod, Tyene unrolled the parchment, revealing a beautifully crafted marriage contract, its edges adorned with intricate gold threading.

Oberyn picked up the contract and presented it to Viserys. "Prince, this marriage contract was signed by me and Ser Willem in Braavos under the witness of the Sealord. If you and Arianne fulfill this contract, Dorne will commit to helping you reclaim the Iron Throne."

Doran, who had remained silent, did not dispute his brother's words. Viserys realized that this was a serious offer. House Martell clearly saw potential in him, not just as a political pawn but as a future ruler with the capability to form an army and retake the Iron Throne.

Arianne, who had been outspoken earlier, now watched Viserys closely as he read the contract. Despite her calm exterior, her fingers, intertwined beneath the table, betrayed her nervousness. The realization dawned on her that this contract was likely the reason her father had dismissed her previous suitors, including Daemon, in favor of something greater.

Tyene and Sarella, standing nearby, also watched Viserys with anticipation. The prospect of having such a distinguished and handsome brother-in-law seemed like a dream come true.

Viserys could feel the weight of everyone's expectations. A simple nod would make him a part of the Martell family, with all the benefits and complications that entailed. The marriage seemed like a foregone conclusion, and he could easily imagine being in Arianne's bed by nightfall.

But Viserys knew he couldn't agree so readily. He understood that House Martell's strategy had always been to support the weaker side to maintain their own strength. If he were dealing with a lesser house, he might consider the alliance, but the Martells were far too powerful. This marriage contract wouldn't just tie them to his cause; it would bind him to theirs, and in that dynamic, it was unclear who would truly hold the power.

Gathering his resolve, Viserys smiled and said, "I would be the luckiest man in the world to marry Princess Arianne." His words brought smiles to everyone's faces, and Arianne's olive skin even flushed slightly. But then he added, "However, now is not the best time to fulfill the marriage contract."

The atmosphere instantly shifted. The once lively garden seemed to fall silent, and the birdsong was replaced by an oppressive stillness. Doran, Arianne, and Oberyn's smiles vanished, replaced by expressions of surprise and tension. Oberyn subtly leaned back, distancing himself from Viserys, while Manfrey looked equally astonished. Anyone else in Viserys's position would have eagerly embraced the offer, but Viserys's hesitation had caught them all off guard.

"What does the Prince mean by that...?" Doran inquired, lifting his teacup with a measured calm.

"Dorne is too powerful. I'm concerned that I'll be swept along," Viserys responded bluntly, plunging the room into silence. The Martells stared at him as if he were some newly discovered species—could he really say that so openly?

"And what about Daenerys? House Martell is willing to consider a marriage alliance with her as well," Arianne interjected, her voice tinged with a strange mix of anger and hurt. Since Viserys had made his stance so clear, she saw no reason to hide her emotions.

"Dany is out of the question too. There's a merchant in Pentos, Illyrio, who has arranged a Dothraki marriage for her..." Viserys began.

"Are you suggesting that the Martells are less desirable than those horse-riding savages?!" Oberyn's tone had sharpened, his displeasure clear.

"Prince Oberyn, Princess, please let me explain. I refused the merchant's offer. Dany and I are the last of the Targaryen bloodline. If she marries that Dothraki, their child would have a claim to the Iron Throne, and I would become an obstacle to the Dothraki's ambitions in Westeros."

"So, you suspect that we Martells might do the same to you?" Oberyn asked, his voice tight with controlled anger.

"Losing their dragons for the Targaryens is like losing their wings, and for the Iron Throne is like losing their claws. I can't afford to be careless," Viserys explained, his voice steady despite the tension.

Doran set his teacup down with a decisive clink. "It seems, then, that our Prince is not truly interested in forming an alliance. This meeting is over." His words were cold, dismissive, and final, signaling an end to the conversation. To Viserys, it appeared the negotiations had failed, but Doran's words were yet another test. Rejecting a Martell marriage proposal could be seen as a deep insult if made public, and Doran was not one to act rashly without calculating the benefits.

The alliance Viserys had proposed was still feasible, but the atmosphere in the room had grown frosty. Tyene and Sarella approached Viserys, their earlier warmth replaced by a cool detachment. Their closeness with Arianne meant that his rejection of the marriage proposal had not just been a slight to her, but to them as well.

Viserys had already resigned himself to the possibility that if this alliance fell through, so be it. With the Red Comet's return in just over a year, he was confident he could negotiate from a position of strength once a dragon hatched. However, he still wanted to make one last attempt to salvage the situation. "I hope the Prince can reconsider it. This alliance is important for Sunspear..."

"Prince Viserys, our meeting is over," Oberyn cut him off coldly. Whatever favor Viserys had earned earlier was now gone, discarded in favor of Martell pride and interests.

Viserys managed a strained smile and was about to rise when suddenly, Prince Doran began to tremble, his facial features contorting in pain. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead with each labored breath.

"Someone! Get ice water! Poppy milk! Poppy milk!" The Water Gardens erupted into chaos.

Viserys saw an opportunity. If he could alleviate Doran's suffering, it might turn the tide in his favor. However, before he could act, Oberyn and his daughters formed a protective barrier between him and Doran.

"Prince, you should leave!" Oberyn said, his voice brooking no argument.

Chapter 144: How to Convince Customers They’re Getting Their Money’s Worth

"Prince, you need to leave!" Oberyn's voice was cold and unyielding, his hand already resting on the hilt of the short knife at his waist, ready to act at a moment's notice.

"Prince Oberyn, I might be able to relieve Prince Doran's pain," Viserys urged, realizing this was his last chance to prove his worth.

"Prince, leave now!" Oberyn repeated, his tone even firmer as he unsheathed his dagger, the sharp blade gleaming in the light. To Oberyn, Viserys's persistence seemed misguided. Countless maesters and supposed healers had tried—and failed—to cure Doran's gout. He saw no reason why Viserys's attempt would be any different.

Even Manfrey, sensing the tension, began to edge closer to Viserys. He knew that while Viserys was a skilled warrior, he could not allow him to remain.

But Viserys stood his ground, undeterred by their threats. "Princess, trust me!" he pleaded, his voice resolute.

When Oberyn tried to push him away, he was shocked to find Viserys unmoved, as if he were pushing against a stone wall. Despite exerting considerable strength, Oberyn couldn't budge him.

Arianne glanced anxiously between her father and Viserys, unsure of what to do.

"Viserys! If you don't leave, I'll deal with you myself!" Oberyn hissed, his grip tightening on his dagger, ready to use it if necessary.

Viserys remained calm, pressing his case. "You have to let me try! Do you understand what gout feels like? It's like someone is crushing your eyeballs with their heels, every bone being gnawed by ants, and the spaces between them filled with jagged rocks! The pain is excruciating, far worse than any flesh wound. Can you really afford to pass up this chance?"

Oberyn hesitated, caught off guard by the vivid description. As Doran's brother, he knew better than anyone how much pain Doran was enduring.

"Princess, please let me try. If I fail, you can do whatever you wish with me. Can his condition possibly get worse? Ending his suffering now would almost be merciful," Viserys implored, his voice full of determination.

Arianne finally stepped forward, standing before Viserys with a fierce expression. "If you harm him, I swear I'll use the deadliest poison on you. I'll have your bones scraped clean and sand packed into every crevice!"

Viserys met her gaze, trying to soothe her. "The Targaryens and House Martell have a history of marriage alliances. The Prince is my kin as well. I would never harm him."

With everyone reluctantly agreeing, Viserys took charge. "Take the Prince to his chambers. I need 36 candles, a golden bowl, a mask, and incense—immediately!"

Oberyn, still confused, asked, "Aren't you supposed to be treating him? Why do you need all these things?"

"This is blood magic! Now hurry!" Viserys commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The entire Water Gardens sprang into action under Viserys's orders. Meanwhile, Feles, who had been quietly observing the fountain, noticed the sudden commotion and felt a pang of anxiety. "Did the negotiations fall apart? That can't be," he muttered to himself. When he tried to approach the scene, the guards barred his way, and he realized he was effectively under house arrest, his worry growing by the minute. 'Goddess, please protect the Prince.'

Back at the pavilion, under Viserys's direction, the candles were arranged, and the incense was lit. Viserys donned a mask and began chanting as he performed a ritualistic dance, an elaborate display that seemed almost like a charlatan's act.

In reality, the theatrics weren't necessary, but Viserys knew that without the show, the Martells might not believe in the potency of his efforts. The ritual was as much about convincing them as it was about helping Doran.

Inside the chamber, Prince Doran lay curled up in agony, his body trembling uncontrollably. Seeing her father in such distress brought tears to Arianne's eyes. Despite all her rebellious thoughts, seeing Doran in pain tore at her heart. Oberyn, standing nearby, was equally distressed, his usual composure shaken by his brother's suffering. Tyene and Sarella, watching their beloved uncle suffer, were also deeply saddened. Doran had always been affectionate with the children, enjoying their company and laughter, and they were especially close to him.

Sensing the moment had arrived, Viserys took a knife and made a deliberate cut along his arm. The bright red blood began to flow into the golden bowl, and the realization of what he was doing slowly dawned on those around him.

"Is he really going to give his blood to father? Is this what they call witchcraft?" someone whispered, the shock evident in their voice.

Arianne watched with a mix of skepticism and concern. Viserys seemed a bit unsteady, yet he had indeed cut himself and allowed the blood to flow. Despite her doubts, she found herself uncertain of what to do next.

As the blood magic ritual continued, Viserys's lips grew increasingly pale. To heighten the "effect" of the spell, he consciously drained a significant portion of his vitality, nearly 50 points from his Health. It left him feeling as drained as he had been when he first arrived in this world.

The entire room watched, a mix of fascination and unease, as Viserys's blood filled the small bowl. When he finally approached Prince Doran and fed him the blood, the onlookers felt a surge of revulsion. But what followed left them all stunned. As the blood entered Doran's mouth, the tension in his body began to ease. The man who had been writhing in agony moments before now appeared to relax. Though Viserys obscured his expression, it was clear that the Prince was finally finding relief.

'It's working!' Arianne and Oberyn exchanged a glance, their eyes wide with disbelief. Manfrey, too, stared in astonishment at the scene unfolding before him. Sarella, on the other hand, was utterly captivated. Inheriting her father's intense curiosity, she was already itching to ask Viserys how he had performed such a feat. This was far more intriguing than her usual experiments with poison!

Viserys understood that the pain Doran experienced was due to uric acid crystals forming in his joints, causing inflammation and agony. His blood magic could temporarily repair the damaged tissues, though it couldn't remove the uric acid crystals themselves. With proper care and a controlled diet, Doran might avoid another gout flare-up for a year or two. So Viserys knew that eventually, the Martells would come back, seeking his help once more.

Soon, color returned to Doran's cheeks, and his once-pained expression softened into peaceful slumber. Viserys, now utterly exhausted, collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving as if he had run a great distance. He removed his mask, revealing a face so pale it startled everyone in the room.

"It's... it's done..." he managed to say before fainting. In truth, he could have stayed conscious, but he knew that to make the greatest impact, he needed to fully commit to the performance. What better way to demonstrate the severity of his efforts than by appearing to have sacrificed his own well-being to ease Doran's pain?

Arianne rushed to her father's side, finding him deeply asleep. Unlike the other times when he had lost consciousness from sheer agony, this sleep was restful, almost serene. But...

She turned back to look at Viserys, lying on the floor. Though she didn't fully grasp the intricacies of blood magic, she understood that Viserys had paid a heavy price for what he had done.

"Hurry, quickly! Take the Prince to his room!" Oberyn and Manfrey, finally snapping out of their shock, gently lifted Viserys and carried him with care to a nearby room.

Chapter 145: The Smoking Sea of Valyria

Now that he had decided to put on a show, Viserys intended to savor it. He took his time observing the situation on his side. After a while, it appeared that Euron had returned to the sea. The sails fluttered above his head, and the sounds of seagulls and waves filled his ears.

Viserys turned his gaze and was immediately captivated by a massive black and gray screen that seemed to cover the sky. It resembled a towering wall of clouds or a colossal pillar holding up the heavens. But on closer inspection, it was neither a wall nor a pillar—it was a swirling sea of clouds. This was part of the ruins of Valyria's end—the Smoking Sea.

Legend had it that the Smoking Sea was once land, but in the cataclysmic end of days when the heavens and earth were shattered, it became an ocean. Or perhaps the land had been swallowed by the sea.

Boom!

The boundless sea seemed to let out a sigh, and the low, powerful vibrations shook the waters around the Smoking Sea. Black smoke rose from the depths, spreading its outline in the black and gray mist before slowly blending into it.

'What is Euron doing in the Smoking Sea? Could he really be planning to go in?' Viserys wondered. Given Euron's callous disregard for human life, this wasn't beyond reason. But after checking the direction the ship was heading, Viserys realized that the man wasn't quite as mad as he appeared. Euron seemed to be sailing south of the Smoking Sea, likely taking the conventional route to Valyria.

Euron continued his course, and Viserys ended his Dragon Dreams, taking the opportunity to rest.

...

A day later, Viserys lay on a wooden bed in an elegant room. At his bedside, Arianne, Tyene, and Sarella sat in a row, quietly discussing his handsome but pale face.

"Look at his arms, they're almost as thick as my legs," Tyene remarked, cupping her thigh with her hand before gesturing toward Viserys' arm. Her slender palm brushed his skin, making Lys feel a bit ticklish.

"Of course, he's the champion of the tournament. How could he not have strong arms?" Arianne commented, thinking of her great uncle, Lewyn, who had died in battle.

He had been a Kingsguard, a skilled fighter with formidable strength. Arianne gazed at Viserys' face as if admiring it. The boy, who was the same age as her, seemed unexpectedly remarkable. There was nothing wrong with the idea of marrying him.

"Look at his chest, it's so broad," Tyene said, poking Viserys's pectoral muscles. "Hey, it's so firm!"

"Tsk, you're being too rough. Don't wake him up!" Arianne warned, though she also felt the temptation to touch him but was afraid of disturbing his rest.

"Sarella, feel his belly—it's so solid!" Tyene urged, reaching under the blanket covering Viserys.

'Damn it! Taking advantage of me!' Viserys thought, realizing it was time to 'wake up.'

Seeing Tyene's hand moving lower, Arianne gave her a hard slap on the arm.

"Ouch!" Tyene yelped, looking at Arianne. "What was that for?"

"He's like this, what are you trying to do?"

"I just wanted to count how many abs he has. What else could I be doing?"

"You..." Arianne realized she had misunderstood and quickly said, "That's not okay either! What if you wake him up? He just recovered from healing father!"

"Cut it out, it won't happen," Tyene insisted, pointing at Viserys' pale face. "Look at him—no matter how much you touch him, he won't react!"

'Damn, who do you think you are?' Viserys fumed inwardly.

Viserys had actually regained consciousness, but the blood magic had taken a toll on him, much like it had with Dany. Though he was awake, he couldn't control his body for a while. When he heard someone challenging him, his spirit immediately stirred.

"Cough..." Viserys managed to produce a few unintelligible sounds from his throat, which silenced the two who had been playing around.

"Quiet!" the little black girl on the side commanded, halting their antics.

"Water..." Viserys mumbled, not sure what else to ask for, so he defaulted to the most common request of a patient just waking up.

"Hurry! Get some water!" Tyene quickly fetched a golden brass kettle, while Arianne held Viserys in her arms. The little black girl, Sarella, fed him water, bit by bit. Feeling the soft warmth behind him, Viserys couldn't help but feel satisfied. 'This is what I deserve!' he thought.

"Wow, he's drinking a lot!" Tyene exclaimed.

Viserys wasn't sure how long he had been asleep. He hadn't felt particularly thirsty at first, but once he started drinking, he couldn't stop. After downing two jugs of water, he finally felt full and noticeably better. The scent of the maidens lingered in his nostrils as he glanced around, noting that black, white, and brown were all present.

"Princess, have you been taking care of me all this time? Thank you so much!" he said.

"No, I should be the one thanking you," Arianne responded. She was no longer the same person who had once rejected Viserys' marriage proposal. Instead, she appreciated his straightforwardness. Since he had once believed that the gap between his strength and that of House Martell was too wide for a marriage alliance, she was willing to wait until he felt the balance of power was more even. Besides, when had the daughters of House Martell ever been so conservative? Once Viserys recovered, a brief encounter was hardly something to be ashamed of.

As for Viserys, he noticed a different look in Arianne's eyes—completely unlike the provocative attitude she had shown at the beginning. However, this shift didn't change his feelings toward her. He knew that Dany, who was across the Narrow Sea and relied on him, was still concerned about him. When the time was right, certain matters needed to be addressed. Since Arianne seemed to value Dorne's succession and control above all else, perhaps she could be guided in that direction. This way, he could secure Dorne's support without needing an alliance.

"I'll go get my father," the little black girl, who had spoken little until now, said before leaving the room.

"How long have I been asleep?" Viserys asked.

"Two days and nights," Arianne replied, her tone and demeanor much gentler.

Viserys glanced out the window and saw that it was morning. "Two days and nights... I suppose Regis and the others must be worried," he murmured, then fell silent.

A short while later, the Red Viper and Prince Doran arrived in Viserys' room.

"No, no! You just stay where you are," Prince Doran insisted, stepping forward to stop Viserys from getting up. He sat beside the bed, looking at Viserys with the fondness of an elder admiring a promising young man, despite the fact that they were contemporaries. Although Viserys was not yet eighteen, Prince Doran was nearing fifty.

Thanks to Viserys' treatment, Doran now felt no pain at all. He could even get up and walk—something he hadn't been able to do for nearly two or three years. His gratitude toward Viserys was profound. When he had been ill, Viserys had accurately described his symptoms. It had indeed felt as though someone was stepping on his eyeballs and pouring sand into his bones. As Viserys had said, death would have been a relief.

"You must have paid a great price to cure my illness," Doran remarked, noticing the grateful expressions on everyone's faces.

Viserys sighed, looking at them with a touch of helplessness. "I'm sorry, Prince Doran, but I haven't truly cured your illness."

"Huh? Not cured?" Everyone turned to look at Doran, who now walked like a healthy man and appeared full of energy. He had even eaten a large meal of fish and shrimp the previous day.

Viserys then explained how the so-called "treatment" worked. "In other words, it's as if you've been struck by an arrow, and that arrow remains lodged in your bones. I've only treated the wound caused by the arrow, but the pain will eventually return."

Doran's heart sank at the thought of the pain returning. He couldn't bear the idea of suffering that torment again.

"Is there no other way?" Arianne asked, her voice filled with concern.

"The blood magic I cast should last for one to two years," Viserys replied. "During that time, the Prince must avoid eating anything from the sea, increase your intake of vegetables, and drink plenty of water."

"Really?" Doran muttered, recalling with regret the large bowl of seafood he had eaten the day before.

"Also, avoid strenuous exercise. Remember, the 'sand' is still lodged in your joints," Viserys added.

"Yes, I understand," Doran responded.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Even if the blood magic lasted two years, what would happen after that? Would Viserys be willing—or even able—to perform it again? No one dared to voice the question. Viserys hadn't revealed the true cost of the magic, leaving them only to speculate.

"Can blood magic be performed using someone else's blood?" the Red Viper asked. It had to be him—no one else would have thought to ask so directly.

"Blood magic relies on consuming the caster's vitality," Viserys explained. "In other words, I am consuming my own life."

His words hung in the air, and he then thought, 'If your health reaches zero, you die. But I can use the system to replenish it.'

"Consuming life?!" Arianne exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. The Red Viper and Doran exchanged uneasy glances.

This explanation made sense to them. From Doran's perspective, Viserys had alleviated his pain for two years, which must have cost the young prince at least five years of his own life. Such a sacrifice was a profound gesture of sincerity.

Viserys, however, waved his hand, downplaying the severity of it all. Yet, his movements and expression subtly hinted at the toll the magic had taken on him. 'Shouldn't the Martells show some sincerity in return?' Viserys mused inwardly, then continued, "That's why the caster must be willing. Ordinary people don't possess enough 'life energy' in their blood. Not only would the effect be weak, but it could also harm the recipient—making it not worth the risk."

...

The room fell silent once more. Doran had already accepted his fate. At the very least, he had escaped two years of hell, which was a gift from the heavens in his eyes. To hope for anything more would be greedy. If the pain returned after two years, he would simply have to give more and pay more.

However, Viserys' next words had kindled a new spark of hope in him.

Chapter 146: Dragon’s Blood

"Water magic?" Arianne asked, intrigued.

"Yes, water magic," Viserys confirmed. "The Rhoynar people mastered some of the most advanced forms of magic, and water magic was one of their specialties. Since over 60% of our bodies are composed of water, I believe there might be a way to heal such injuries using water magic."

Viserys was improvising, but in this room, he was the authority on magic, and no one dared question his words.

"Didn't Nymelia leave behind many Rhoynar-era items and books? Maybe..." Arianne began, her excitement evident. It was clear she was eager to bring those relics and texts to Viserys, whether out of concern for Doran or growing affection for Viserys himself.

Doran and the Red Viper initially exchanged skeptical glances. After all, the artifacts left by Nymelia were thought to be readable only by her descendants. But they soon realized that it would be a waste to keep those items locked away, and they agreed to let Viserys examine them, hoping he might find a cure for Doran's affliction.

"Nymelia did leave behind some books on magic, but most of the spells in them have become unusable," the Red Viper said. "About a hundred years ago, all the spells stopped working."

"Prince, I won't take advantage of you. I'll share a secret with you," Viserys offered.

Hearing the promise of a secret, everyone leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued.

"The era of magic is expected to return soon, and many people will have the opportunity to learn it. If you give me the magical manuscripts and books left by Nymelia, I will teach House Martell the magic I learn from them."

In the past, if someone had spoken of magic, the Red Viper would have likely thrown them out. But after witnessing Viserys' abilities firsthand, they had no choice but to believe him. Both the Red Viper and Doran were growing increasingly fond of Viserys' straightforward nature—he was direct and didn't speak in riddles.

The little black girl's eyes lit up at the mention of learning magic. She looked eagerly at Doran and the Red Viper, and the two of them immediately agreed.

"No problem. As soon as you're well, we'll take you to see what Nymelia left behind," Doran said without hesitation.

'Fire magic, blood magic, water magic... Now all that's left is the magic of the Shadowbinders, the Greenseers, and perhaps even the ice magic of the White Walkers...' Viserys mused, glancing at his own abilities.

If it weren't for the system, he would never have been able to learn so much so quickly. He still had over 120 attribute points saved up, and if he wanted to fully restore his body, it would only take a few clicks. But for the sake of "value for money," he decided to maintain the current situation.

"Oh, by the way, I was wondering if there are any Dragonbone products in Sunspear?" Viserys asked, suddenly remembering that when Dorne made peace with the Iron Throne, they had returned Renly's corpse and the skull of the dragon Meraxes.

The rest of the dragon must still be there somewhere. Perhaps he could gain some attribute points by touching these Dragonbone relics. That was the skeleton of a fully grown dragon—earning a hundred or so attribute points wouldn't be out of the question.

Doran and the Red Viper didn't seem alarmed or surprised by his question. After all, both the Targaryens and House Martell had seen enough bloodshed between them to make such matters feel inconsequential after all these years.

"Is it used to cast magic?" Red Viper asked, intrigued.

Viserys nodded. "Yes."

"Yes, we have some Dragonbone weapons stored in Sunspear—spears, bows, daggers, and so on. Oh, and there's also dragon blood."

"Dragon blood?" Viserys was astonished. Meraxes had been dead for nearly three hundred years—how could any dragon blood still exist?

"That was thanks to a special container crafted by Nymelia," the Red Viper explained. "We've managed to preserve some over the centuries, though most of it has been used up."

"Used?" Viserys repeated, curious.

The Red Viper looked slightly embarrassed. "Yes, some of the magic left by Nymelia required dragon blood. We've been smearing it on newborns, believing it can increase their courage."

"Alright. Be sure to save some for me when the time comes," Viserys joked, lightening the mood in the room.

"Oh, by the way, I have something else to tell you—about Varys," Viserys added, shifting the conversation.

"Varys? What did he tell you?" Doran asked, his interest piqued.

"Tell me what?" Viserys responded, noticing the puzzled looks on everyone's faces. He continued, "What if I told you that my brother Rhaegar's son, Aegon—Elia's son—is still alive?"

"What? Elia's children are still alive?" Doran exclaimed, his shock mirrored by the others in the room.

"Really? Is this true?" The Red Viper's voice was filled with disbelief.

Viserys was touched by their reaction. It was clear they held deep affection for Elia. Arianne, too, was stunned by the news. She remembered how her aunt and cousin had met their tragic end, and the thought of it had kept her awake for nights.

"I suspect it's a lie," Viserys cautioned. "Most likely, it is a deception. Don't get too excited just yet, Princes."

He then explained everything he knew about Varys—his possible descent from the Blackfyre line and the plans he had with Illyrio and Connington. "Varys is probably trying to deceive you so the Blackfyre bloodline can rise to power. But whether that's true or not, we'll have to wait and see what the child says."

"Where is the child now?" Doran asked, struggling to contain his excitement. Like the Red Viper, he was eagerly anticipating the day he could finally avenge Elia by taking the Mountain's head.

"The child is currently in Pentos," Viserys said. "So at our next stop, not only will I forge an alliance with Pentos, but I'll also investigate the child's background."

"I'll go with you!" the Red Viper immediately volunteered.

"That's fine. If he turns out to be legitimate, you can help protect him as well," Viserys replied with a hint of humor.

"I didn't mean it that way," the Red Viper said, taken aback by Viserys' frankness. Despite being familiar with Viserys' straightforward nature, he hadn't expected him to be so candid about such a sensitive issue as succession. If the child truly were Rhaegar's son, his claim to the throne would technically surpass Viserys'. However, House Martell now understood that even if the child were indeed Elia and Rhaegar's orphaned son, he wouldn't be able to challenge Viserys for the throne. Viserys was a man of magic, exceptional martial skills, courage, and strategic acumen—the only one they were willing to back.

In other words, House Martell was only interested in seeing their daughter crowned as Queen. The identity of the King was secondary.

"That's fine, but after we've secured the alliance, perhaps you could stay in King's Landing for a while to deal with Varys," Viserys suggested.

"No, I think we should wait until we've taken Tyrosh," the Red Viper responded.

"We'll see," Viserys said. "By the way, I'll make sure my men are informed about my situation."

Viserys had been worried that Lys and the others would grow anxious if they couldn't contact him. But it turned out he had been worrying for nothing. According to the Red Viper, he had found Regis in a casino.

"You didn't take them to a brothel. Should I praise you for being considerate?" Viserys quipped. "I did forbid gambling among the troops, didn't I?"

Regis replied awkwardly, "My lord, they were all... well, they were all very happy. It wasn't..."

Chapter 147: Not Hot At All

Although Viserys understood that an army of ascetics was a rarity in any era, it didn't stop him from aspiring to something similar. He strictly prohibited gambling, recognizing it as a behavior that could easily undermine military discipline, even among the Windblown mercenaries. Initially, even the old captain didn't quite grasp the reasoning behind this rule. However, over time, he noticed that Viserys' battalion maintained the best discipline, which led him to implement the policy across the entire regiment.

To maintain morale and discipline, Viserys believed that prevention was better than cure. He introduced activities like billiards and football, which not only exercised the soldiers' minds but also fostered teamwork.

Regis knew he had made a mistake. He assumed that since they were no longer on the battlefield, a bit of recklessness might be overlooked. However, Viserys had the Commander administer ten lashes as punishment.

These were no mere symbolic blows; the lashes were delivered with full force. Regis thought that once the punishment was over, the matter would be resolved. But he was surprised when Viserys personally applied medicine to their wounds afterward. This act of care deeply moved the Unsullied, igniting a fierce loyalty within them. They felt a powerful urge to fight for such a leader.

Neither Doran nor the Red Viper witnessed Viserys' treatment of Regis, but they recognized that Viserys was a leader who genuinely cared for his men.

Tyene and the others, who had never encountered Unsullied before, were intrigued by the two who accompanied Viserys.

"You said the Unsullied are all castrated. Do they pee like us?" Tyene asked Arianne with curiosity.

"Who else could I ask?" Arianne replied, rolling her eyes.

"No, I heard my father say that although the Unsullied are castrated, they have artificial penises they use to pee, so they don't smell," the little black girl added. Her insatiable curiosity often led her to learn things others didn't know.

However, what intrigued her most now was the magic that Viserys had promised to teach. She had already mastered nearly everything the Red Viper had taught her about poisons, and it was clear that magic was far more fascinating.

Initially, she had asked the Red Viper to let her accompany Viserys to Pentos, but he had refused. The Red Viper had considered taking his eldest daughter, Obara, and his second daughter, Nymeria, instead. However, both sisters were in Oldtown and couldn't join them on such short notice.

The next day, the group secretly departed for Sunspear. As Viserys had requested, Doran's condition was kept strictly confidential to avoid alerting any interested parties.

After all, Doran had not appeared in public for many years, and the more astute observers had long since guessed the truth about his condition. A sudden resurgence of activity would only draw unwanted attention.

The group discreetly departed from the Water Gardens and made their way to Sunspear, the capital of Dorne. Sunspear was an expansive city, its defenses bolstered by a formidable "triple curved wall." Some sections featured a "cauldron city" design, enhancing its strength. Every other segment of the city wall was equipped with massive ballistae. Although their original name is unknown, they have been called "Scorpions" ever since one was used to slay Meraxes.

After passing through three heavily guarded city gates, the group arrived at the Old Gate of House Martell. This was the site where Nymeria and the Martell ancestors united their houses. Here, the Sun Tower and the Spear Tower—visible even from outside the city—stood as slender, straight spires nearly 200 feet high, reaching toward the sky. Beneath the Sun Tower lay Dorne's Great Hall. However, Viserys wasn't here for sightseeing; there would be time to explore these landmarks later. Today's primary goal was to obtain Nymeria's magical manuscripts, examine some alchemical items, and handle the dragon blood.

They soon arrived at the oldest and most mysterious part of Sunspear—the Sandship Castle.

"After Nymeria married the Martell ancestor, all of her belongings were placed here. But over the centuries, many of these items have been lost or damaged," the Red Viper explained, acting as a guide as he led Viserys through the castle's interior.

The group proceeded directly to Nymeria's former room, which resembled a blend of a small library and a laboratory. By the window, Viserys noticed glassware—test tubes and beakers—adding to the room's scholarly atmosphere.

At first, Viserys thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to a platform about one square meter in size, on which rested a nearly perfect octahedron the size of a fist.

"I'm not sure," the Red Viper replied, "but I've heard that when Nymeria was alive, this object could float." He then picked up a book from a nearby shelf. It contained an illustration of the platform and the octahedron, levitating in mid-air. Its purpose, however, remained unclear.

The room was filled with other strange artifacts. For example, there were round plates, similar to dinner plates, engraved with various patterns. Viserys also noticed something resembling a clock. It seemed that both the Valyrians and the Rhoynar had been proficient in alchemy.

Unfortunately, when Viserys touched these items, his panel didn't react at all. Perhaps the magic they once held had long since faded.

The Red Viper then brought out a box filled with books and manuscripts for Viserys. "These are the magical texts that Nymeria prepared for her descendants, but no one has been able to learn from them for nearly 300 years. Perhaps the Rhoynar blood in our veins has grown too diluted," he said with a touch of sadness.

Viserys offered some comfort. "It's alright. If you can't master water magic, there's still fire and blood magic. After all, you have Valyrian blood in your veins."

The Red Viper felt encouraged by Viserys' words. "Let's go see the dragon blood," he suggested.

The group then descended to the bottom of Sandship Castle, arriving at a cavern-like chamber. The cave was illuminated by sunlight reflected through several mirrors, making the space surprisingly bright. In the center of the cave lay a massive blanket, its original color obscured, as if it were intentionally covering something. On top of the blanket sat three urns, each about the size of a kettle.

"Is that where the dragon's blood is stored?" Viserys asked.

"Yes," the Red Viper confirmed. "It's said that over a hundred jars were collected from Meraxes' body, but after nearly 300 years, only three remain—well, two and a half, to be exact. You can take one jar."

'One and a half jars left... I wonder what this stuff is good for,' Viserys mused as the Red Viper handed him the half-full jar of dragon's blood.

When the Red Viper opened the jar, a pungent mix of blood and sulfur filled the air. Viserys noticed that the blood inside wasn't congealed or sticky at all; it retained a surprisingly good fluidity. If stored elsewhere, it would have long since evaporated or degraded. Clearly, House Martell had their reasons for keeping it in this particular cave—there had to be a secret to this place.

Pushing the thought aside for now, Viserys dipped his fingers into the dragon's blood, and a pale blue light screen appeared before him.

[Dragon's Blood: Gain 20 Assignable Points]

"So cool!" Viserys thought, and then, without hesitation, he placed his blood-coated finger in his mouth. Next to him, the Red Viper smirked knowingly, as he had tasted dragon's blood before and remembered the intense heat that had rendered him speechless for days.

[Consuming Dragon's Blood increases Constitution by 10]

Viserys checked his panel and saw that his Constitution attribute had risen to 110. Encouraged, he dipped his finger into the blood again and tasted it, grinning as he did so.

[Consuming Dragon's Blood increases Constitution by 7]

Constitution: 117

[Consuming Dragon's Blood increases Constitution by 3]

After tasting it five times in a row, Viserys' Constitution had increased to 125. But after that, the panel stopped reacting.

However, the Red Viper, who had been watching closely, now looked at Viserys in shock. "You... don't find it hot?"

"Hiss—not at all," Viserys replied, unfazed by the heat that had previously overwhelmed the Red Viper.

Chapter 148: Dragonblood Knight

After drinking the dragon's blood, Viserys felt his health improve noticeably, his complexion gaining a healthier glow. Since poor health leaves one vulnerable to illness, the infusion of dragon's blood provided the perfect excuse to abandon his previous state of "sub-health." This not only bolstered his physical well-being but also reinforced the perception of his "true dragon's blood" in the minds of Doran and the Red Viper, further solidifying his claim to legitimacy.

"This is what it means to be a Targaryen!" Viserys declared, embracing the moment. He planned to use the remaining half-jar of dragon's blood to see if it could enhance the fertility of the dragon eggs. Additionally, the Dragonbone items that the Red Viper had found for him proved invaluable, granting Viserys nearly 300 assignable attribute points. Overall, this trip to Dorne was a resounding success.

He planned to depart in two days, with the Red Viper secretly accompanying him to Pentos. In the meantime, Doran hosted a small dinner at the Water Gardens for Viserys and his companions. This gathering also gave the Feles and his sister an opportunity to meet the elusive Prince of Dorne.

When Arianne saw Shinelli, she greeted her warmly. "This must be Princess Daenerys, isn't it?"

"Princess, this is Shinelli, Lord Feles' younger sister," someone clarified.

Princess," Shinelli said, her tone respectful.

In the presence of Arianne, the siblings were clearly aware of their lower status. To avoid any awkwardness, Shinelli sensibly took the initiative to greet Arianne. Meanwhile, Doran's youngest son, Trystane, seemed particularly taken with Shinelli, who had striking silver-blonde hair.

Doran, observing the gathering, quickly grasped the dynamics at play. He recognized the subordinate relationship between Viserys and Feles and noted the ambition in Feles' eyes—he had likely brought his sister along with thoughts of arranging a marriage to Viserys. Doran also saw a parallel between Viserys and Feles: both came from declining houses and both had younger sisters. However, Doran saw little in Feles that warranted investment.

As the dinner progressed and people ate and drank, Doran suddenly spoke up. "Prince Viserys, you haven't been knighted yet, have you?"

The question silenced the room, drawing everyone's attention to Doran and Viserys. The relationship between a knight and his sponsor is akin to that of master and apprentice, creating a strong social bond. Doran's offer was a clear attempt to deepen his ties with Viserys.

Previously, Viserys had declined a marriage alliance on the grounds that his forces were weaker than those of Sunspear. However, to refuse this generous offer of knighthood would be an outright insult.

"No, Prince, I have not been knighted," Viserys replied, meeting Doran's gaze with a mutual understanding.

The others at the table quickly caught on, with the Red Viper eyeing Viserys with interest, eager to see how he would respond.

Feles had heard about Viserys' refusal of the marriage proposal and was surprised. He hadn't expected Viserys to turn down such a significant alliance under these circumstances.

Doran glanced around at the others and said, "I was a squire in House Gorgonall and was knighted at the age of seventeen. You, however, are even better than I was at that time."

"Prince, you are too kind. If given the opportunity, I hope to have a noble sponsor like you," Viserys replied with a formal nod.

"I'm not noble, but I'm happy to be your sponsor," Doran responded.

"Really? Thank you so much, Prince, but I haven't prepared anything," Viserys said, feigning surprise. Though he tried to appear "frank," he knew exactly what to say.

At this point, the Red Viper spoke up, "Viserys, a true knight becomes one the moment he proves his worth. No preparations are needed."

Viserys looked at him, then turned back to Doran. "Really? I hope I'm not disrespecting my sponsor."

"No, I'm already very pleased to knight you," Doran assured him. There was no need for further politeness.

The ceremony of knighthood was usually quite elaborate. One had to spend a night in vigil before the seven statues of the gods in the temple, wear a pure white woolen cloak to symbolize purity, and be anointed with various holy oils. But Viserys clearly didn't have time for all that, and this knighting was more of an impromptu decision. Nonetheless, Doran had made some preparations.

The singers at the feast suddenly struck up a song about knights, and Arianne stepped forward with a white woolen cloak in hand. Barely 1.6 meters tall, she only reached Viserys' chest. In the candlelight, she appeared nervous, but her attire and makeup were exquisite.

Viserys removed his black and gold robe, handing it to Sarella, then leaned forward slightly to allow Arianne to drape the woolen cloak over him. He removed his shoes, went barefoot, and held his sword in both hands as he approached Doran. Kneeling on one knee, he offered the sword.

Doran smiled, taking the Valyrian steel sword from Viserys. "Viserys III of House Targaryen," he intoned, placing the sword on Viserys' right shoulder. "In the name of the Warrior, I command you to be brave." The tip of the sword moved to the left shoulder. "In the name of the Father, I command you to be just."

In the light of the moon and candles, Viserys, now clad in the white woolen cloak, looked almost 'holy.'

Red Viper, Arianne, Sarella, Regis, Conwyra (Unsullied captain), Shinelli, Feles... Everyone watched the scene unfold. Viserys' knighting ceremony felt like a brief interlude, but given his Targaryen heritage, it was also quite striking.

After the ceremony, Viserys pressed his forehead against Doran's hand.

"To the Dragonblood Knights!" the Red Viper shouted, raising his cup. It seemed he had already thought of the title. Despite it sounding somewhat cheesy, Viserys still liked it.

"To the Dragonblood Knight!" the crowd cheered in response.

"Whether or not Pentos joins our alliance, in two months at the latest, Sunspear will send troops to Tyrosh," Doran promised Viserys and Feles, sealing the alliance with his stamp.

Chapter 149: Young Mother

When Viserys left Sunspear, he exchanged his swan ship for House Martell's longship, the Sunburst. The switch was intended to make him less recognizable. To further minimize the risk of being identified, he chose a route that took him west around The Broken Arm, avoiding the nearby Stepstones.

It had been less than half a month since he left Lys, but it was the longest he had ever been separated from Dany. Even when they fought pirates, they had been together. Viserys had never felt so worried about someone in his entire life. To keep her occupied and safe, he had arranged for Dany to run a slave relief station.

To demonstrate his "loyalty" to Kambron, Viserys instructed the old captain Hoyt to purchase property in Tyrosh. Since the Windblown's financial officer had his fingers chopped off, the old captain's financial situation had rapidly improved. With Viserys' support, it appeared that the old captain was preparing to retire in Tyrosh, a development that pleased Kambron. Tyrosh had suffered heavy losses in the Battle of Dragon's Flame Fortress, so keeping the Windblown close was beneficial.

Meanwhile, Dany's "slave relief station" was completed, a facility repurposed from an old warehouse. The slaves who arrived there were a mix of the disabled, the elderly, men, women, and children. Though Dany couldn't remember all their names, they had a special name for her in their hearts—Young Mother.

One night, Kyla sat with Dany beside a dying young slave. The boy wouldn't survive until morning, and a few other slaves, those still able to stand, gathered around to watch. The young slave had light brown hair and was emaciated from malnutrition. His body bore the scars and wounds of countless whippings.

His skin resembled old, worn fabric—dull, wrinkled, and marked with injuries. The boy had been severely beaten for accidentally breaking his master's beloved lampstand, then thrown out into the street. His breathing grew weaker, his face pale as paper, as if every breath was a struggle between life and death.

Life was slowly slipping away with each of the boy's labored breaths. If Viserys had been there, he would have immediately recognized the signs of ruptured internal organs—this poor soul would not live much longer. Dany had brought him to the "slave relief station," trying to offer some comfort in his final moments.

At this moment, the boy's life seemed to be concentrated in his eyes, which were fixed on Dany, the beautiful maiden who embodied all that was good.

"Young Mother," the slave boy whispered. Dany clasped his right hand, and the other slaves, young and old, stepped forward, drawn by the tender moment.

"Young Mother, please don't be sad for me," the boy said with a faint, mischievous smile. "I hope that after I die, I can become a stone slab beneath your feet. If, in the future, you feel a certain stone is especially comfortable to walk on, then you'll know it's me."

Though Dany had witnessed scenes like this more than ten times in the past two weeks, her heart still ached. She recalled the words Viserys had taught her about comforting the dying and gently touched the boy's head, whispering, "Then I will place you in my garden, and you can taste the tea I brew."

As if reassured by her promise, the boy nodded almost imperceptibly before closing his eyes for the last time. The slaves standing behind Dany wore expressions of sorrow, but their respect for her deepened even further. To some of the slaves who believed in the Faith of the Seven, Dany had become the embodiment of the "Mother of Heaven" and the "Maiden."

The slave relief station that Viserys had set up for Dany was a simple place for treating injuries and providing end-of-life care, yet its impact was profound. As someone with knowledge from another world, Viserys understood just how valuable such a small act of kindness could be. It was this simple gesture that earned Dany the title of "Young Mother" among the slaves of Tyrosh.

There's a saying that 'only a little sweetness is needed to make up for the bitterness of life.' If there is a place in the world of ice and fire where suffering is most intense, it is among the peasants of Westeros and the slaves of the Free Cities. These people are easily overlooked, yet they are a vast and neglected group. The glory of the nobles and the grandeur of their cities are built on the suffering of these individuals. Viserys had tasked Dany with running the relief station partly because he wanted her to understand who, in this world, was most worthy of being won over.

...

At the same time, he had considered the potential of this operation. He personally chose the location for the relief station: to the north lay Tyrosh's royal palace and the wealthy noble district; to the east, the densely packed workshops; and to the west, a copper mine with more than 30,000 slaves.

Viserys knew that the best outcome for this so-called coalition army would be to extract some concessions from Tyrosh through sheer intimidation. But if they truly wanted to conquer Tyrosh, they would need an army from within—a force willing to turn on the city. These slaves were the foundation of Viserys' future army. If the time was right and Tyrosh's forces were weakened, he might even incite a slave uprising and take the city for himself, without having to share the spoils with anyone else.

At this time, on the other side of the Narrow Sea, Viserys, Feles, and the Red Viper stood on the deck, gazing up at the crescent moon. It had been nearly seven days since they left Sunspear, and they expected to reach Pentos by noon the next day. The group looked out over the water as they discussed their next move.

"As long as we can bring Pentos into our alliance, Myr will naturally follow. You should handle the negotiations," Viserys said.

"Yes, my lord," Feles replied, determined. He knew this was an opportunity for him to prove himself, and he was resolved to secure the final step of the alliance.

"What are you planning to do?" asked the Red Viper.

"I'm going to buy lace workshop in Myr," Feles answered.

"Lace? What's that for?" The Red Viper was puzzled.

Just as Viserys was about to dismiss the question, he spotted a longship approaching through the Golden Eagle's view. The vessel was clearly one favored by pirates, making their identity unmistakable. Moreover, they had reached the entrance to Pentos Bay, where the narrow channel left little room to hide.

"Everyone, prepare for battle!" Viserys ordered. He positioned his men on the port side while the Red Viper took the starboard side.

Soon, they saw the longship with black and blue sails speeding toward them. The wind was not in their favor, and Viserys' swan ship was too slow to evade. It wasn't long before the two longships were closing in.

"Listen up, men on the ship! Leave the women and money, and our captain will let you go!" a pirate with a short neck and leather armor shouted.

But before he could finish, a dark figure swooped down from the sky. The pirate's scream echoed as the Golden Eagle's talons left three deep gashes across his face, even flipping his nose inside out. His already unsightly face now looked even more grotesque. By the time the others reacted and tried to shoot the eagle, it was already soaring out of range.

While the pirates were still disoriented, Regis shouted, "You dare to rob us! Do you know whose ship this is? This is the ship of Lord Viserys Targaryen!"

The Red Viper, hearing Regis seemingly negotiating with the pirates, ran over.

"Viserys?" The pirates were stunned. For the past six months, no name had been more feared in the pirate community than his.

"You really are Viserys?" a young pirate in his mid-twenties, with black hair and gray eyes, said as he looked around at his fellow pirates writhing and screaming on the deck.

Most of the pirates with any real courage had been wiped out by Viserys half a year ago. Without strong leadership, those who remained had been picked off by various forces, bringing an unprecedented peace to the Summer Sea and the Narrow Sea. The young pirate, shaken by Viserys' reputation, was already considering retreat.

But the pirate quickly composed himself and retorted, "No way! Viserys has silver hair. You can't fool me."

Just then, a pirate wearing a turban—clearly the leader—burst onto the deck. He glanced toward Viserys and then smacked one of his men on the back of the head.

"Lord Viserys, I'm sorry! We didn't know it was your ship!" the leader said, grinning obsequiously, any semblance of a captain's dignity gone. None of the other pirates found anything unusual about their leader's behavior—it was Viserys, after all.

Regis, the one who had made the announcement, shouted, "If you know what's good for you, get out of here! I don't have time to waste killing you!" His voice dripped with arrogance, and the thrill of scaring off enemies just by mentioning Viserys' name was palpable.

Hearing this, the pirates thought only of escape. But the leader hesitated, then suddenly called out, "Lord Viserys, please let me follow you!"

"Huh?" Regis stiffened, taken aback. What was this—a direct offer to join them? He exchanged a quick glance with the Red Viper.

"Let him come up. Let's hear what he has to say," the Red Viper suggested casually, clearly not taking the pirate seriously.

"Okay," Regis agreed reluctantly, then shouted, "Come on up!"

The crew lowered the rope ladder, and the pirate leader climbed aboard Viserys' ship alone. Viserys noticed the man's surprisingly neat appearance—his hair was well-groomed, and he even had a beauty mark on his forehead, much like the Red Viper. At first glance, he didn't look like a pirate at all.

"Lord Viserys, my name is Ronan. The other day at Orange Shore Bay—"

Suddenly, Viserys recognized him. "Wait, you're the one who tried to inspect my ship that day on the speedboat, aren't you?" It all clicked into place. After his former leader died, Ronan had gathered some men, robbed a couple of ships, and quickly formed his own crew. He had a reputation and a sharp memory, able to recall anyone he had seen. It was this memory that had just saved his life.

Ronan, now visibly nervous, stammered, "Yes, that was me... but who would have thought you were carrying a dragon egg, ready to kill everyone? Your wisdom is far beyond that of ordinary men." Ronan had risen to a petty leader because he was good at reading people and excellent at flattery. Compliments came to him instinctively, and even now, he couldn't help but use his "natural skills."

Ronan had grown tired of the pirate's life and was looking for someone powerful to ally with. Viserys was, without a doubt, a wise choice.

The Red Viper looked at Viserys with a tinge of envy. He had spent years calling himself a "traveler," stirring up trouble wherever he went. But compared to the whirlwind Viserys had created in just a year or two, his own exploits over the past twenty years seemed almost insignificant. Meeting an acquaintance while being robbed was nothing short of a miracle.

However, from Viserys' perspective, recruiting a pirate at this point seemed of little value. After a moment of thought, he asked, "When is your next gathering?"

Ronan was taken aback, his face twitching slightly. "Lord, I don't think there will be another gathering anytime soon. Most of the notable pirates have been killed—by you."

The Red Viper snickered, finding the situation increasingly amusing. Viserys scratched his head, uncertain of what to do with this unexpected turn of events. Then, an idea struck him.

"If that's the case, let's move on to the next step," he said, closing his eyes as if deep in thought. The others remained silent, the only sound being the rhythmic crash of the waves against the ship.

After a moment, Viserys turned to Regis and instructed, "Fetch him a thousand gold dragons."

Regis, though unsure of Viserys' intentions, did as he was told and soon returned with a heavy money box. Viserys handed it to Ronan, saying, "Take this thousand gold dragons and establish a stronghold near King's Landing."

The Red Viper glanced at Viserys, realizing it was actually a clever move. After all, no one would suspect that Viserys might have ties to a former pirate, making it a perfect cover.

But even with the offer of 1,000 gold dragons, wasn't Viserys worried the pirates might just take the money and run? What the Red Viper didn't know was that Viserys had used Moon's Revelation to gauge Ronan's intentions. It seemed clear that Ronan genuinely wanted to work for him.

With that in mind, Viserys decided to have Ronan set up a small base near King's Landing, a move that would make it much easier for the Red Viper to carry out any operations in the capital.

Chapter 150: Illyrio, Here I Come

In a secluded garden, a young boy with blue hair, barely into his teens, practiced with a short sword. The blade, still unpolished, flashed in the sunlight as he struck at a new dummy target. Nearby, a pile of broken, worn-out dummies testified to the intensity of his training. This was no ordinary practice; it was the relentless pursuit of martial skill by a slave determined to master his craft.

The boy's eyes were striking and ever-changing in color. They bore a hint of purple, but his blue hair gave them a bluish tint. When sunlight caught them just right, there was even a faint glimmer of green. His long eyelashes and soft facial features gave him an almost androgynous beauty—if dressed differently, he could easily be mistaken for a girl. Yet, there was a steely resolve in his gaze that left no doubt he would grow into a handsome and formidable young man.

This was Illyrio's bastard son, Aegon.

Illyrio stood at the edge of the garden, his gaze drifting past the flowers to rest on the boy. Aegon was the child he had fathered with Serra, the woman he had loved deeply. Illyrio had long known that Serra carried the blood of the Blackfyres in her veins. When she died of plague years ago, Illyrio, in his grief, had her hand severed and preserved, carrying it with him always. Whether out of love for Serra or to fulfill his own ambitions, Illyrio had forged a secret alliance with Varys. Their goal was nothing less than placing Aegon on the Iron Throne of King's Landing.

The plan was bold and ruthless. Dany was to marry the Horselord, and the Dothraki would be incited to march west, acting as a battering ram against the city. Behind them, Illyrio would follow with his bastard son, ready to seize power amid the chaos. King's Landing had to be thrown into disarray—order was of no use to a man like Illyrio, who thrived in the shadows. As Littlefinger had once said, chaos is a ladder.

But there was a complication. Illyrio knew he had to convince Viserys to agree to Dany's marriage to Drogo. However, he was beginning to realize that Viserys was slipping out of his control. In less than a year as a sellsword, Viserys had achieved two significant victories. Who knew how powerful he might become after taking control of the Windblown? Illyrio had heard rumors of Viserys' growing influence within the company—there was even talk of him becoming its next leader. If that happened, Viserys would attract even more followers, and Illyrio would have to pay a steep price to keep him in check.

Illyrio was already contemplating more drastic measures, including hiring the Faceless Men to eliminate Viserys. At least that way, he could still have Dany.

Suddenly, Aegon noticed Illyrio's presence and called out cheerfully, "Uncle Illyrio!"

Illyrio's face broke into a smile, and his chubby hand twisted his slightly oily yellow beard, revealing a few yellowed teeth—evidence of his love for cheese. "You've been practicing well, Young Griff."

At this time, Illyrio had not yet revealed Aegon's "true identity" to him. The boy still believed he was merely the son of Jon Connington. Aegon liked his fat uncle with the golden beard. Illyrio was always kind and attentive to him, sometimes almost too much so. The daily lessons were rigorous—etiquette, swordsmanship, mathematics, history... But Aegon was intelligent, and with the encouragement and careful instruction of those around him, he was making remarkable progress.

"How about you, Young Griff? Do you want to spar with him?" Illyrio asked, gesturing toward the burly man beside him.

The man was Belwas, a hulking figure with olive skin, dressed in a short tunic, his body crisscrossed with hideous scars. His bald head and clean-shaven face added to his imposing presence. Illyrio had purchased him from Slaver's Bay, where Belwas had served as a eunuch gladiator. Now, he was Illyrio's bodyguard.

Aegon glanced up at the massive warrior, noting the stark contrast between them. Though Aegon was taller than most boys his age, he was also slender. Standing next to Belwas, he felt like a small sapling beside a towering tree. Yet, after a moment of consideration, he accepted the challenge.

"Very well, I hope Lord Belwas will teach me," Aegon said with impeccable etiquette, a trait that had endeared him to all the servants in Illyrio's household.

Belwas grinned, a smile he intended to be friendly but which, due to his scars, only made him look more menacing. Aegon felt a flicker of fear but quickly steadied himself.

"Be careful," Illyrio whispered to Belwas.

"Don't worry, my lord," Belwas replied. He then drew a scimitar from his belt and lunged at Aegon with the speed and ferocity of an eagle swooping down on its prey.

What followed could hardly be called a sparring match. Belwas was vastly superior in both strength and skill, and he was clearly holding back, turning the encounter into more of a demonstration than a true fight. Aegon struggled to keep up, but after several dozen moves, Belwas deliberately made a significant mistake. Seizing the opportunity, Aegon pressed the tip of his sword against Belwas's chest.

Realizing he had won, Aegon's face lit up with excitement. He looked around and saw the servants nodding in approval, their expressions filled with admiration.

Just as the garden was filled with a sense of triumph, a servant in a dark blue shirt hurried over and whispered something to Illyrio.

"Huh?" The servant quickly held his breath, trying to avoid Illyrio's unpleasant breath.

"What is it, Uncle Illyrio?" Aegon asked.

"Nothing to worry about, just an unexpected guest. I'll go greet him," Illyrio replied with a dismissive wave.

"Okay, Uncle. Take care," Aegon said, watching him leave.

...

"Oberyn, when we meet Illyrio, try to stay calm. He's keeping a close eye on the boy, so it's unlikely we'll see 'Little Aegon' right away," Viserys cautioned.

"Don't worry, I know what to do," Oberyn replied.

"And remember, don't reveal who you are."

"Got it, got it."

From the moment Viserys first met the Red Viper, he had pegged him as a playful and carefree person. But as they neared Pentos, Oberyn's demeanor began to change—he grew visibly more anxious, pacing back and forth on the deck. At times, he would cast furtive glances at Viserys, as if weighing some unspoken thought.

When Viserys invited him to play cards Oberyn refused. On other nights, he would knock on Viserys's door, eager to reminisce about old times, especially about his adventures traveling the Seven Kingdoms with Elia. He spoke fondly of how they would mock the suitors who tried to win his sister's favor. In his eyes, Elia was the most gentle and beautiful girl in the world, far too good for any of them.

Oberyn often grumbled about Rhaegar to Viserys but would always apologize afterward. Viserys had grown used to this behavior, which he had come to recognize as Oberyn's peculiar form of "sisterly devotion." But it was precisely because of Oberyn's unpredictable behavior that Viserys found himself reminding the Red Viper more frequently to stay composed as they approached Pentos.

When they finally disembarked, Oberyn, impatient with the slow opening of the cabin door, opted to slide down a rope instead.

...

Viserys, relying on his memory, soon located Illyrio in a private room of a high-end inn.

"Lord Illyrio, it's been a long time. How have you been?" Viserys greeted him warmly.

Though Illyrio wasn't sure why Viserys had come, he responded with a smile, while his sharp eyes discreetly assessed Viserys' entourage. He recognized some, like Regis, and could tell others, such as Conwyra, were of high status. But the Red Viper and Feles were unfamiliar to him.

Despite Oberyn's efforts to disguise himself, Illyrio's keen instincts sensed that this man was far from ordinary.

"And this lord is...?" Illyrio inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Chapter 151: Illyrio, Here I Come (II)

"He's from Dorne, exiled by his house, and now he's joined my mercenary band," Viserys said, his words barely registering with the Red Viper. Indeed, the Dornishman had been exiled for a time after poisoning an opponent in a duel, but the reminder didn't bother him. He simply bowed to Illyrio, while Viserys began outlining his situation and plans.

The Red Viper and Doran had reacted similarly, momentarily at a loss, but the man was shrewd. He quickly grasped the key to the situation and offered his assessment:

"This is nothing more than a pipe dream. Some things may seem possible, but they remain beyond anyone's reach." From Illyrio's perspective, perhaps he saw himself as a lifeline for Lys in desperate times, or maybe he viewed Tyrosh's dominance over the Narrow Sea as a threat to all.

But he also knew the nature of the Pentoshi nobles—they wouldn't raise a fuss unless truly threatened. They'd compromise, just as they had with the Horselords for years.

Illyrio sneered inwardly, thinking, 'Do you really believe I'm helping you out of the goodness of my heart?' But he kept his expression neutral, his strategy with Viserys clear: delay and prevaricate as much as possible.

"So, you want me to make an introduction?"

"Yes, as long as you help with the introduction, whether the alliance succeeds or not, I will be grateful."

Viserys deliberately left out the fact that House Martell had already joined his cause across the Narrow Sea. After all, just Lys might not be convincing enough, but Lys and Sunspear together formed a formidable alliance. Telling the fat man everything could hinder his plans, so Viserys played it down, aiming to get the job done without revealing too much.

Illyrio looked troubled. "My lord, I must confess that my first wife was the sister of the current Prince of Pentos. I fell in love with another woman, and now the Prince has forbidden me from entering his court."

The Red Viper and Feles, standing behind Viserys, exchanged a glance. They both knew the Prince of Pentos was a mere puppet; the real power lay with the nobles. Illyrio was clearly trying to sidestep the issue. They turned to Viserys, awaiting his response.

'Damn it, he's trying to negotiate with me,' Viserys thought, but then smiled and said, "Then perhaps you can spread the word among the powerful that Viserys Targaryen is here and would like to meet with the Prince of Pentos... perhaps for a song."

Illyrio was taken aback, suddenly recalling that Viserys was also an accomplished artist. In Pentos, bards and singers were held in high esteem, and Viserys, as a 'double champion' of Braavos with his three renowned songs, held a significant status. His request would likely compel the Prince of Pentos to invite him to the palace.

"Well, it's not that complicated. I have a friend who might be able to help you get an introduction," Illyrio said smoothly.

The Red Viper and Feles exchanged knowing smiles. They often underestimated Viserys' resourcefulness. Perhaps it was because his brilliance in other areas made even his more modest skills seem like unattainable luxuries to others.

"That's good, but I hope it can be arranged soon," Viserys replied.

"No problem. You should be able to meet the Prince by tomorrow at the latest."

"That's ideal. I'll thank you in advance for that," Viserys said, nodding his appreciation.

As the conversation continued, Illyrio began discussing the political situation in Pentos. The information he shared was similar to what the old captain had mentioned. Although Pentos was nominally governed by the 'forty powerful families,' real power was concentrated in the hands of just five. Among them, House Berent, which controlled trade and diplomacy, was the most influential, with two of the other four families as its supporters. Therefore, the success of any alliance depended primarily on House Berent.

After a bit more conversation, Illyrio shifted the topic to Daenerys.

"Thank you for your concern. She is well and has grown a bit recently. She's also very healthy," Viserys replied.

'That is truly a blessing from the gods,' Illyrio thought, smiling. Viserys didn't bother to guess what was really on his mind.

"I've heard you're doing well with the Windblown. If that's the case, could you consider a marriage alliance?" Illyrio suggested.

The mention of marriage alliances immediately caught the attention of the Red Viper and Feles.

"Do you think Drogo, a barbarian, is worthy of a Targaryen's woman?" Viserys asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

Illyrio's smile froze, taken aback by Viserys' presumption. 'Drogo might be a powerful Khal, but this man speaks as if the Windblown were truly his to command,' he thought. 'If he had the Golden Company, he'd likely march straight to King's Landing!'

"However," Viserys continued, "if one of the Khal's daughters is appealing, I might consider taking her as a concubine—or perhaps as a maid."

Illyrio's expression barely held as his golden beard trembled. The Red Viper burst into laughter, and Feles struggled to contain his amusement.

"Well... I'll keep an eye out for suitable marriage partners," Illyrio replied, his tone carefully measured, "but they may not be as powerful as Drogo."

As Illyrio watched Viserys' arrogance, he reconsidered his strategy. 'This kind of arrogance usually shortens a man's life,' he mused.

"Oh, by the way," Illyrio added, "you don't have a place to stay yet, do you? I have a house by the sea. It's comfortable, and you can rest there."

"Thank you for your kindness," the Red Viper said, though inwardly, the offer stirred something deeper within him.

Soon, he would see his "nephew." He genuinely hoped that the young Aegon was indeed his sister's son. This was a desire unclouded by politics or strategy—he simply longed to see a part of his sister again. If Aegon truly was her child and bore her likeness, the Red Viper resolved that he would raise the boy as his own and ensure that his existence wouldn't interfere with the Martell family's plans.

They arrived at a beautifully decorated house with a roof covered in blue tiles and windows of brown glass. Servants were already waiting to greet their masters. The Red Viper leaned out of the window, scanning the crowd eagerly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Aegon.

Chapter 152: Nighttime Bath

Illyrio knew that completely hiding someone was nearly impossible. His expectations for the young Aegon were lofty—he envisioned him ruling all of Westeros. Aegon couldn't remain a "coy" hiding in a gilded cage; he needed to be a "dragon" soaring through the skies.

As the servants gathered to greet them, Aegon's blue hair immediately caught the Red Viper's eye. In that instant, he recognized the boy as his supposed nephew. Yet, it took only a moment for the Red Viper to realize that this was not Elia's child. Although Aegon was handsome, his features bore no resemblance to either Elia or Rhaegar. Most telling of all, the Red Viper felt no sense of kinship. As the saying went, 'Your son may not be your son, but your nephew is always your nephew.'

A flicker of disappointment flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by a burning desire for revenge. If the boy was a fraud, then Varys had deceived House Martell. 'Varys, the Lannisters, and the Mountain... I will kill them all myself,' he vowed silently.

"Uncle Illyrio," Aegon greeted.

"Young Griff, have you finished your studies today?" Illyrio asked.

"Yes, I have."

Illyrio then introduced the others. "This is the child of a friend of mine. He's a mercenary. The boy's mother is from Tyrosh, which is why his hair is dyed blue."

"Well, he's a very handsome boy. Hello, I'm Viserys," Viserys said with a smile, though he felt no need to harm the boy. Aegon was merely a tool for others to achieve their ambitions.

"I'll have some food prepared for everyone," Illyrio offered.

"Thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Viserys replied, then turned to Feles. "Go and fetch Shinelli."

"Yes, my lord."

...

Meanwhile, in another part of Pentos, within the private domain of House Berent, Kurland, the patriarch, relaxed in the only hot springs in the city. This sanctuary was reserved exclusively for him, guarded by Unsullied soldiers. Kurland, a man in his late fifties, was as vigorous in spirit as he was meticulous in appearance. His white hair and beard were always carefully groomed, even when he bathed. He believed that his daily soak in the hot springs kept him in good health and full of energy. Kurland was a man in control—of his surroundings, of his schedule, and of himself. To him, indulging in pleasure was a loss of control, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Kurland believed that Westeros could never thrive under the rule of a man like Robert Baratheon. As he finished his bath, a slender attendant whispered in his ear, "My lord, it's time."

This eunuch was responsible for keeping Kurland on schedule, and the patriarch adhered to his routine down to the minute. As he stepped out of the hot spring, two maids swiftly dried and dressed him. Just then, another servant approached with a message from Illyrio.

"Viserys? What does he want?" Kurland asked.

"Illyrio didn't say, only that Viserys wishes to see the Prince—and you as well," the servant replied.

"I'm not interested."

Kurland scoffed. "Hmph! He's not content to be a poet in Pentos; he's scheming again. Viserys' coronation feast was the laughingstock of the Free Cities. Though his reputation has improved somewhat since his victory over the pirates, there are still many who hold him in contempt. Tell him the Prince is unavailable."

"Yes, my lord."

Back at Illyrio's estate, the host relayed the message to Viserys with a look of contrition, though his voice betrayed none of it. "Lord Viserys, I'm sorry, but the Prince is likely busy."

Viserys's tone grew cold and hard, his displeasure evident to all. "What did you tell your friend? Did you inform him of my purpose here, or did you fail to mention it entirely?"

When Illyrio went to see Kurland, Viserys sent his seagull to follow, feeling that Illyrio's efforts had been nothing more than a perfunctory gesture. The very thought of Illyrio and Varys's repulsive conspiracy made Viserys want to punch him.

Illyrio was taken aback. In his past dealings with Viserys, he had seen him be both wise and volatile, but never had he spoken with such raw anger. The harsh tone both frightened and surprised Illyrio, yet he was not easily intimidated. Though primarily a merchant, Illyrio was also a skilled assassin, and mere words would not shake him.

"As you know, I'm only a merchant..." Illyrio began.

"I don't want to hear it!" Viserys snapped, cutting him off. "I doubt you even met Drogo, or maybe you're just deceiving us."

Viserys's sudden mistrust stemmed from two key reasons for working with Illyrio: introducing the Red Viper to young Aegon and securing alliances as swiftly as possible. If Illyrio proved unreliable, Viserys knew Feles, being Lysene, had official connections. At worst, they could bypass Illyrio and appeal directly to the true powers through the Prince of Pentos, though it would be more complicated.

"Feles, let's go straight to see this Prince of Pentos. I don't believe they'd refuse to meet an envoy!" Viserys declared, ready to take Feles and leave.

Illyrio grew concerned. He realized that if he wanted Viserys to continue cooperating, he couldn't keep stalling. More troubling was that Viserys was beginning to doubt his ability to connect them with the Horselord—a crucial element in Illyrio's plan. Marrying Daenerys to the Horselord and launching a "Western Expedition" was central to his scheme. If Viserys chose not to cooperate, everything could unravel.

"I am truly sorry, Prince Viserys," Illyrio said hastily, his tone shifting. "Perhaps I wasn't clear yesterday. I'll go again today."

"If I don't see Lord Kurland by noon tomorrow, I'll go myself!" Viserys warned.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you meet him," Illyrio promised, clearly anxious.

Seeing Illyrio's desperation, Viserys allowed a smile to surface. "Then I'll leave it to you."

As Viserys's demeanor shifted so quickly, Illyrio couldn't help but feel somewhat manipulated.

'Pressure is indeed the best motivator,' he thought to himself.

The next day at noon, Kurland agreed to a meeting. Viserys knew that House Berent controlled over 40% of the trade in Pentos, with a significant portion linked to the Disputed Lands. He planned to leverage this connection, and with the Red Viper's involvement, the alliance would soon be within reach.

Chapter 153: What Is Your Relationship With Their Leader?

Viserys had Illyrio bring Feles with him, a move that secured their entry into Kurland's house. The following day, at noon, Viserys and Feles arrived at Kurland's tea room. Outside, a garden bordered the tea room, patrolled by Unsullied. Although the treaty between Pentos and Braavos forbade the use of slaves in Pentos, it was evident that some powerful individuals still employed them in secret. Even Illyrio's bodyguard, a slave gladiator purchased from Yunkai, was proof of this covert practice.

After crossing the garden, they reached a teahouse adorned with blue tiles and yellow walls. Upon entering, a maid served them bread and salt, which they ate while waiting. The room was empty, save for a few servants—no important figures had arrived yet. The most striking feature in the tea room was the main seat, which resembled a small bed. Its backrest, nearly two meters high, was intricately carved with patterns of the sea and land, motifs traditionally associated with the Prince of Pentos but now appropriated for Lord Kurland's use. The main seat appeared to have been sculpted from a single massive rock, with a base that elevated it significantly, allowing its occupant to gaze down upon the entire room. A chandelier hung slightly behind the seat, casting shadows that added to the sense of oppression. The design was exquisite, clearly crafted with 'hospitality' in mind.

"Please sit down, Lord Kurland will be here soon," a servant instructed.

"Yes," Viserys replied with a nod, remaining silent. Although such a waiting area was designed to instill a sense of inferiority, Viserys was unfazed. What mattered was forging the alliance, regardless of the surroundings.

Kurland did not keep them waiting long. After about a quarter of an hour, he entered from a door on the right side of the main seat, supported by two maids. Before sitting, one of the maids prostrated herself on the ground, forming a "human footstool" for him. Kurland casually placed his foot on her back.

Viserys couldn't help but think, 'Humans are truly the only species in the world that can derive pleasure from the suffering of their own kind.'

'It's disgusting to see them treat people as if they aren't even human,' Viserys thought, his stomach churning with revulsion. Kurland, oblivious to Viserys's thoughts, looked down at the two younger men with a slight narrowing of his eyes. Their youth and handsomeness stirred a pang of envy in the older man.

"Lord Kurland," Viserys said, rising from his seat and bowing respectfully. Kurland responded with a dismissive nod.

Just as Viserys was about to launch into an explanation of the strategic benefits of controlling Tyrosh and the details of their potential alliance, Kurland interrupted with a blunt question.

"What is your relationship with their leader?"

Viserys hesitated for a moment, ready to mention his role as a sergeant in the Windblown, but quickly realized that wasn't what Kurland was really asking. 'What a cautious old fox,' Viserys mused. He recalled the old captain's barely concealed hatred and murderous intent toward Kurland when they had left Tyrosh. Though the captain hadn't detailed the grudge between them, it wasn't hard to guess.

The old captain had fled Pentos to avoid becoming the 'Prince of Sacrifice,' and just two days ago, Viserys had learned that House Stewart no longer existed in Pentos. Coupled with the analogy the captain had shared, it seemed likely the feud involved the grave crime of kinslaying.

Kurland, calculating as ever, saw no benefit in an alliance if Viserys had ties to Hoyt. If they managed to take Tyrosh, it would be meaningless if Viserys was allied with someone who harbored a deep-seated vendetta against him. Knowing the wrong answer could unravel the entire negotiation, Viserys replied carefully.

"It's like borrowing a chicken to lay eggs," he said.

"Borrowing a chicken to lay eggs?" Kurland echoed, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk, clearly intrigued by the phrase.

"You see," Viserys continued, "I once brought a group of mercenaries to Pentos to help me reclaim the Iron Throne, but that so-called feast of the crown became a stain on my life, a laughingstock that taught me you can't gain an army by begging." Viserys gestured passionately as he spoke, drawing a curious glance from Feles. "So, I led my men to raid a pirate stronghold, securing hundreds of suits of armor and earning a certain standing within the Windblown. Once the time is right, I'll leave the Windblown with my men."

Kurland listened intently, his posture relaxing as he leaned back further into the soft cushions of the main seat. To him, it was clear that Hoyt would never relinquish control of the Windblown to Viserys. If Viserys left as he claimed, it would only weaken Hoyt's position, making him less of a threat.

"So, you mean House Martell is already in the alliance?" Kurland inquired.

"Yes, Prince Oberyn is currently in Pentos," Viserys confirmed.

At this news, Kurland sat up straighter, his interest piqued. Viserys had proven himself over the past two years, and his newfound connection with House Martell only increased his value. Realizing this could be a valuable opportunity, Kurland decided it was worth considering.

"If that's the case, I can consider your terms," Kurland agreed, nodding as he removed his foot from the maid and sat up properly.

Seeing Kurland's apparent agreement, Feles couldn't contain his excitement. If they could secure a letter confirming Pentos's involvement in the alliance, they would likely bring Myr into the fold as well. This would lay a solid foundation for the revival of his family and mark his full return to the ranks of the nobility in Lys.

However, Kurland proposed another condition that Viserys rejected immediately.

"In that case, you will marry your sister to one of my descendants, and I will agree to the alliance," Kurland suggested. In his mind, with his family controlling Pentos and House Martell ruling Dorne, their statuses should be equal, and the "Dragonlord's bloodline" should naturally be shared. Kurland assumed that Viserys must have already married into House Martell, just as Rhaegar had married Elia years before. Therefore, asking Viserys to wed Daenerys to a member of House Berent seemed reasonable to him.

As soon as Kurland finished speaking, an oppressive silence fell over the tea room, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Viserys's polite expression quickly twisted into a sneer. Without warning, he flipped the tea table in front of him, sending teacups clattering to the floor, their shards mingling with spilled tea. The sudden commotion drew the attention of the Unsullied outside, who rushed into the room.

Viserys glared at Kurland, his voice seething with fury. "Who do you think you are? Lys isn't mine to save or abandon. If this alliance fails, I can find another opportunity later." His anger surged as he continued, "It seems you have no intention of cooperating. Let me be clear: you know about Moonshadow soap, don't you? That was a collaboration between me and House Zalyne. I know all the recipes—and even better ones. I can use those to bring Myr into the fold! And if not Myr, I can secure the Golden Company. I have plenty of gold. Do you really think you're irreplaceable?"

Viserys's voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "When I take Tyrosh, and every Pentoshi merchant ship passes through the Stepstones, I will not be a Targaryen in name alone."

With that, he signaled to Feles and stormed out, leaving Kurland reeling from the sudden turn of events. As the door closed behind them, Kurland's confidence faltered. He remembered his own younger days and knew how easily a young man like Viserys could be driven to rash decisions in the heat of anger. Had he misjudged the situation so severely? Had his proposal truly offended Viserys that deeply?

The realization struck him: Viserys wasn't just offering a carrot; he held a big stick as well. If these negotiations ended in discord, the consequences could be dire and unpredictable. Kurland couldn't afford to kill Viserys—doing so might alienate House Martell and disrupt trade. Moreover, he belatedly recognized that Viserys had little personal stake in Lys's survival; his demands had indeed been unreasonable.

Feles, equally stunned, struggled to make sense of the scene. 'How had things escalated so quickly? How could they argue so openly and unceremoniously?' Yet, putting himself in Viserys's shoes, Feles understood that such an insulting demand was intolerable. Viserys held the upper hand, whether it was supporting Tyrosh or fighting against it. For him, the stakes were simply a matter of a "big win" or a "small win."

But for Feles, the future looked bleak. His hopes of revitalizing his family now seemed distant. Would he have to follow Viserys into mercenary work after all?

At that moment, Kurland called out, "My lord, wait!"

But Viserys, unfazed, continued walking as if he hadn't heard a thing. He couldn't help but agree with the old captain's assessment of this man—Kurland's pretense of reasonableness only masked a deep arrogance. Meanwhile, the Horselords came nearly every year, and he was always paying his respects to them without fail.

"Prince!" Feles began, his voice uncertain. "My lord, shouldn't we—"

Viserys shot him a withering glare, and Feles fell silent immediately. "This lord, Lord Kurland, hopes you'll stay," Feles added hastily.

"Get the hell out of here!" Viserys roared, his voice so powerful that the eunuch attendant in front of him nearly collapsed in fear. Even Feles, standing beside him, felt a shiver run down his spine. Viserys's strength lent his voice a booming resonance, like the roar of a dragon, reverberating through the garden and startling birds from the trees.

Just then, a group of Unsullied armed with short swords arrived, blocking Viserys's path. He turned to face the approaching Kurland and coldly remarked, "What, my lord, do you intend to murder your guests?"

Chapter 154: He’s Your Nephew

"No, no, no! Get out of the way!" Kurland exclaimed, trying to calm the situation while urging his Unsullied to retreat. In Pentos, murdering a guest was an unforgivable crime.

"Prince Viserys, I overstepped. Let's start over," Kurland pleaded.

"I don't care," Viserys snapped. "I'll be leaving Pentos in the morning! If you really want to talk, come find me!" With that, Viserys stormed out.

Hoyt's assessment of them might not have been entirely accurate, but it was certainly fitting for the moment. That afternoon, Kurland urgently convened a family meeting, where it was decided that Pentos would join the 'Ring of the Narrow Sea' alliance and prepare for war. By evening, they sent a messenger to inform Viserys that Pentos would contribute at least 6,000 soldiers and twenty warships—virtually their entire naval force. They would also temporarily recruit a number of merchant ships. As long as Kurland approved, even House Berent would follow suit, meaning the alliance merely needed formal approval from the current Prince of Pentos.

This unexpected outcome left Feles overjoyed. He never imagined that negotiations could succeed in such an unorthodox manner. 'Could one really form an alliance by cursing out the other party?'

As for the Red Viper, after hearing the full story, he was more amused than surprised. He was eager to help Viserys take Tyrosh, and then move on to King's Landing for a reckoning with Varys. The idea of anyone daring to mock House Martell was intolerable. Oh yes, the soldiers—this fat spider was already on the path to his demise.

The one person who couldn't believe the news of Viserys's successful alliance was Illyrio. With 6,000 soldiers pledged, nearly two-thirds of Pentos's garrison, he wondered what Viserys had done to win over Kurland so thoroughly. 'Had Viserys married Daenerys off? Or had he married into House Berent himself?' But it didn't take long for Illyrio to realize the truth.

Viserys had been keeping something from him. The man who had looked so familiar was, in fact, Oberyn Martell—the Red Viper. "When did he start associating with House Martell?" Illyrio muttered to himself, feeling a surge of anxiety. The thought of Viserys aligning with the Martells threatened everything.

Illyrio knew he had to act fast. As he watched Aegon learning the ways of the holy sisters, a bold plan began to form in his mind. He decided to reveal Aegon's true identity to the Red Viper and then conspire with him to kill Viserys.

"That'll work!" The more Illyrio pondered it, the more convinced he became that this was an excellent plan.

First, Aegon is "the child of Rhaegar and Elia," making him the nephew of the Red Viper. Supporting Aegon seemed far more reliable than backing Viserys. Second, once he and the Red Viper conspired to eliminate Viserys, they could easily claim Viserys's "legacy" within the Windblown, including Daenerys. He also recalled that The Reach remained a stronghold of the "royalist party." With Dorne, The Reach, and the Loraqs supporting his son's rebellion, they would have enough power to topple Westeros.

'Yes, this will definitely work! And the people of Dorne don't seem to be too concerned about guest rights,' Illyrio mused, thinking of the "Young Dragon" Daeron and dismissing any qualms.

Having made up his mind, Illyrio approached the Red Viper's room later that night.

"Prince Oberyn, it's Illyrio," he called softly, standing in front of the door. Despite his confidence in the plan, he felt a twinge of nervousness. Twisting his greasy, golden beard between his fingers, he rehearsed his words.

The Red Viper, surprised by the unexpected visit, opened the door. He wasn't sure why Illyrio had come, though he doubted it was with good intentions. Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating only the lower half of Oberyn's face while his upper half and dark eyes remained shrouded in shadow. He wore a loose silver-gray robe that revealed his olive-toned chest.

"Lord Illyrio, what brings you here at this late hour?" Oberyn inquired, his voice cool.

Illyrio tucked his hands into his sleeves and offered a placating smile. "Actually, I came to express my apologies. I didn't realize it was the Prince. I was disrespectful earlier. Please, don't hold it against me."

"You're too kind. How could I mind such trivial matters? It's all in the name of the alliance," Oberyn replied nonchalantly, though he was certain Illyrio hadn't come for such a minor issue.

As expected, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Illyrio glanced around to ensure they were alone, then leaned in and whispered, "I came to tell you a secret."

"A secret?" The Red Viper's eyes flickered with a hint of mockery, though Illyrio didn't notice, as those dark eyes were still hidden in shadow.

"That boy, Griff," Illyrio continued in a hushed tone, "is actually Rhaegar's son—your sister Elia's son!"

Oberyn, a master of deception, played his part flawlessly. He grabbed Illyrio's arm with feigned excitement, his grip firm but not too forceful. "Gently," Illyrio cautioned, pressing a finger to his lips and gesturing toward Viserys's room to urge silence.

Illyrio then relayed the story he had carefully prepared, mirroring exactly what Viserys had told the Red Viper earlier. He even mentioned Jon Connington, insisting that he could corroborate the tale.

"No wonder… no wonder I felt such a connection with the boy. It turns out…" Oberyn's voice trembled with feigned emotion, as if he had just discovered a long-lost relative.

Seeing Oberyn's apparent reaction, Illyrio relaxed, lowering his guard. Now it made sense why the Red Viper had often watched Aegon so intently.

Oberyn, timing his move perfectly, "betrayed" Viserys. He told Illyrio of their encounter at Sunspear, omitting, of course, the details of Viserys using blood magic. As for why House Martell chose to support Viserys, Oberyn spun a tale about a secret marriage pact Ser Willem had arranged with him years ago.

"Does Viserys know the child's true identity?" Oberyn asked, his tone calculated.

Illyrio hesitated for a moment, then replied, "No, he doesn't."

"Good," Oberyn said, nodding. "We must protect the boy and ensure Viserys never learns who Aegon truly is."

"Yes! You're absolutely right," Illyrio agreed, feeling more confident than ever in his plan.

He felt a surge of smugness and deep admiration for Varys. This clever tactic of "bait and switch." was truly brilliant. Manipulating prominent nobles with such ease was a testament to their cunning. In Illyrio's mind, everything was progressing even better than anticipated. The two of them had established "trust" at lightning speed and swiftly moved on to business.

"If he were alone, I'd have my Unsullied and bodyguards kill him," Illyrio mused, "but he has his own Unsullied, so I thought we could do it at the banquet."

Illyrio's eyes gleamed with a hint of cruelty, as if he had been transported back to his ruthless younger days.

"Are you planning to poison him?" he asked.

"Yes, I've heard that Prince is also a master of poisons."

The Red Viper's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Of course, but the hardest part of using poison isn't in concocting it—it's in knowing when to use it."

"That's fine," Illyrio replied, his eyes lighting up. "We'll have plenty of opportunities at the banquet!"

"Indeed," the Red Viper agreed, pulling a small glass vial from his robe. "This poison is a blend of venom from seven different snakes and toxins from seven poisonous plants," he explained, rolling the bottle between his fingers. "Just one drop is enough to kill a man."

Illyrio could hardly contain his delight. 'He's actually giving this to me?' he thought, thrilled. The Red Viper's willingness to hand over such a potent poison was a clear sign of his commitment to their plot. This vial was tangible proof of their conspiracy, binding them so closely that betrayal was no longer an option.

"Tomorrow, I'll propose a celebration," Illyrio suggested. "We'll hold a small, discreet banquet, and once he's dead, we'll move against his men."

The Red Viper nodded thoughtfully. His plan was meticulous, and he assumed that the information flow between Illyrio and Varys was likely "synchronized." In other words, Illyrio was aware of how Varys had "deceived" House Martell. Thus, Oberyn feigned a determination to position his sister's child as the heir, making it seem as though he was acting behind Doran's back.

The priority was clear: kill Viserys first.

Illyrio readily agreed. After all, Viserys commanded a large following, and killing them all would be too noisy and risky. At the very least, Feles couldn't be harmed—he was essential for promoting the alliance. Additionally, during their interaction, Illyrio had come to understand the Red Viper's temperament. The entire discussion took less than half an hour, during which Illyrio became increasingly excited about the prospect of eliminating Viserys, viewing him as an obstacle that needed to be removed. Now, with one less obstacle and one more "friend," things were looking up.

As Illyrio walked back, trembling with excitement, he reached into his robes and pulled out his late wife Serra's hand, holding it to his cheek with a look of intoxication in his eyes.

It was as if his lover had returned to life, caressing him once more. However, Illyrio had yet to realize the gravity of the mistake he had just made.

No sooner had Illyrio left than the Red Viper went straight to Viserys's room and revealed everything about their conversation. He didn't even bother to hide his actions from Illyrio.

"What do you think?" Oberyn asked Viserys. "Should we just kill him?"

Chapter 155: I Want to Learn That!

"Kill him? That would be too easy for him."

Viserys was reading through the manuscripts he had brought back from Sunspear when he heard the news and laughed coldly. The truth was, he had never intended to kill Illyrio with a single, swift blow. That would be far too unsatisfying. No, Illyrio deserved to be stripped of his wealth, left to wander the streets, and die of cold and hunger—or better yet, sold as a slave.

Viserys considered these punishments briefly but decided that for now, he only wanted to give Illyrio a private room at Meris's for the whole year. Perhaps one day, Illyrio would become neighbors with Varys. Or maybe he could hire a foreign tutor from Slaver's Bay to teach him "Bedroom arts." But that would have to wait—he still needed Illyrio to get the dragon eggs for him.

But that didn't mean he had to take a beating.

"So what are you going to do?" the Red Viper asked excitedly, his eyes gleaming with interest. He had been fascinated by such things since childhood, and his curiosity had only grown after witnessing blood magic for the first time.

Viserys smirked and took out an unlit candle, placing it on the windowsill. He then retrieved a lit candle and walked seven or eight steps away. "Watch carefully," he said, holding the candle in his left hand while raising his right hand. Slowly, he drew the flame from the candle until it hovered like a ball of fire the size of a fist in his right hand. With a swift motion, he hurled it toward the unlit candle, igniting it with pinpoint accuracy.

The incredible sight left the Red Viper wide-eyed with astonishment. It was as if he had been transported back to his curious teenage years. Although his curiosity had not waned over the years, he had seen so much that it took something truly extraordinary to impress him. Seeing Viserys perform magic made him feel young again.

"I want to learn this!" he exclaimed.

"I told you, you should start with the Moonsingers' Song," Viserys replied. His demonstration was not only meant to impress but also to reinforce his allies' loyalty. Though Viserys's relationship with Doran had grown strong since he had temporarily cured Doran's gout, it was always worth reinforcing.

After a brief discussion, the two of them devised a plan. The Red Viper would set a fire in the barn to distract the guards, while Viserys would start a fire in Illyrio's room. He would then rescue Illyrio once the flames had done some damage.

"But what if he burns to death? Someone will definitely suspect us," the Red Viper asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Don't worry." Viserys extended one hand toward the candle on the windowsill. His fingers stretched out, and the flame suddenly grew to the size of a palm, crackling fiercely. The candle melted away as quickly as an icicle in the sun. Then, with a simple gesture, he closed his fingers, and the flame shrank back to the size of a bean, flickering weakly as if it might go out at any moment.

"I can control the fire."

Viserys's magic was so captivating that the Red Viper couldn't resist asking, "Please teach me!" His eyes, though belonging to a man in his thirties, brimmed with youthful curiosity.

"That depends on whether you have the talent for it," Viserys replied. "Maybe your gift lies in water magic, or perhaps fire. I can't say for sure."

"Don't worry, I'm sure I have the talent for magic!" the Red Viper declared confidently before slipping out the window. Viserys smiled as he watched him leave. He had a certain fondness for people like that. A clear-cut personality was attractive everywhere—no wonder so many women had fallen for him.

Not long after the Red Viper departed, Viserys took advantage of the quiet night and climbed onto the roof above Illyrio's room.

...

About an hour later, a fire suddenly broke out near the woodpile.

"Fire!" came a cry from the darkness, followed by a rush of activity below.

"Lord, there's a fire near the woodpile," Belwas reported as he appeared at Illyrio's window.

Illyrio, believing the fire to be far enough from his quarters, waved him off dismissively. "Then go put it out and don't bother me!"

"Yes, my lord!" Belwas responded.

Illyrio, too excited to sleep as he plotted Viserys's murder for the next day, had taken some sedatives to calm himself. Being abruptly awakened left him in a foul mood. Soon after, Viserys heard his loud snoring through the roof, a reminder that overweight men often suffer from sleep issues.

Seizing the moment, Viserys lit a candle and formed a ball of fire in his hand, which he used to ignite the curtains. He intensified the flames, and soon Illyrio's room was engulfed in heat, transforming it into a furnace. Even through the thick curtains, the fire's glow was unmistakable.

Satisfied that the fire had done its work, Viserys quietly returned to his room. Although this was arson, it wasn't the same as the brutal killing of the two men Banergar had burned in Braavos. This time, his aim was to burn Illyrio just enough to ensure he would survive—but only just.

"Lord! Lord..."

Viserys silently counted the seconds as he observed Illyrio's room through the eyes of a seagull. He soon heard Belwas's alarmed shout. Thick smoke billowed from Illyrio's bedroom, signaling that something had gone terribly wrong.

More servants hurried to Illyrio's door, but all the available water and sand had already been used up in a desperate attempt to douse the flames. Some brave souls tried to rush inside but were driven back by the intense heat and ferocious flames. Others hesitated, considering their meager wages of three or five gold dragons a month, and what little they could actually do. Most stood anxiously outside the door, while a few hurried to fetch more sand and water.

Nearby, a small voice cried out, "Uncle Illyrio!" Young Aegon, Illyrio's own son, had been awakened by the commotion. His room was close to Illyrio's, and the noise outside had easily roused him. Through the window, Aegon could see the danger his beloved uncle was in. Although his father wasn't around, Illyrio had always shown him great affection, so much so that Aegon never felt the lack of a father's love.

Realizing that Illyrio was in grave danger, Aegon bolted from his room without even putting on his shoes. "Uncle Illyrio!" he shouted, trying to run into the inferno to save him, but others quickly held him back.

"No, Griff!" Sister Lymere, who had taught him manners, cried out as she tried to restrain him. But to her surprise, the seemingly fragile child was surprisingly strong, almost as if he were possessed. He struggled fiercely, desperate to reach his uncle, until Belwas had to step in to help.

Bang! A loud noise erupted as the glass in Illyrio's window shattered from the intense heat. Flames and smoke poured out like a roaring beast. The Red Viper, dressed in his nightshirt , rushed to the scene, muttering under his breath about the shared origins of blood and fire.

Just as everyone feared Illyrio was about to perish in the flames, a shadow, dripping with water and covered in what appeared to be a wet blanket, passed through the crowd and kicked open Illyrio's door.

"That's... Viserys!?" someone gasped. The crowd stared in stunned disbelief.

"Lord Viserys!" Young Aegon was moved by Viserys's bravery. The others were equally impressed. Sister Lymere prayed for him, and the crowd, hands on their chests, anxiously watched the blazing windows.

Ten seconds passed, then thirty, fifty, a minute, two minutes, three minutes—but still, Viserys did not emerge. The tension grew, and the crowd couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

What they didn't know was that the moment Viserys entered the room, the flames seemed to recoil from him, as if repelled by an invisible force. If he had wanted to, Viserys could have dragged the fat man out of bed in less than twenty seconds. But he hesitated, worried that if Illyrio had hidden the dragon egg in his room, it might be destroyed by the fire, which would be a serious problem.

After all, in the original story, Daenerys had used blood magic to hatch her dragon eggs. The Targaryens had burned several dragon eggs in Summerhall, yet they did not hatch. In other words, if the dragon egg couldn't hatch, it might still be fireproof.

After searching for a while and confirming there was no dragon egg, Viserys finally led Illyrio out of the burning room. He moved quickly, his magic nearly spent. By this time, the fat man's back and thighs were severely burned, and the sickening smell of charred flesh hung in the air. The gauze shirt Illyrio wore had done little to protect him from the extensive burns.

Chapter 156: He Should Thank Us

"Quick! Pour water on him!" Viserys shouted.

Several servants immediately rushed over with buckets of water, but they didn't stop there—they also brought sand and mud. The water and sand mixed together, creating a thick slurry that helped to extinguish the flames still clinging to Illyrio's body.

The fire was out, but the damage was done. Illyrio's once-proud blond hair had been singed, and his beloved mustache was completely burned off. His double chin—or rather, his triple chin—was severely scorched, leaving him looking a complete mess. Covered in mud, he resembled nothing more than a pig wallowing in a filthy sty.

When Illyrio saw that Viserys was unharmed, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Uncle Illyrio! Uncle Illyrio!" Aegon, finally freed from Belwas's strong grip, knelt beside Illyrio, his voice trembling with anxiety as he called out to his uncle.

However, there was no response. The Red Viper, watching from the crowd, saw Aegon's anxious little face, and a murderous intent stirred within him. If Aegon ever discovered his true identity, they would inevitably become enemies. To eliminate any future threat, the Blackfyre bloodline had to be eradicated as well.

Viserys then checked Illyrio's breathing, which was faint but present, and reassured Aegon, "Don't worry. Step aside for now."

Though Aegon didn't understand what Viserys intended to do, he trusted him—after all, Viserys had just saved his uncle. No one in the crowd doubted Viserys's motives as they watched him climb onto Illyrio's body and begin pressing on his chest.

The onlookers recognized this method of 'resuscitation.' Living in a coastal city, they had seen it used on drowning victims, some of whom had been brought back to life after their breathing had stopped.

'You better start breathing soon,' Viserys thought, 'because I really don't want to resort to blood magic.' He continued the chest compressions, rhythmically in sync with an intense beat playing in his mind. If he wanted to, he knew he could easily break Illyrio's ribs.

After about two minutes, Illyrio coughed violently, expelling a sour-smelling liquid from his mouth. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused, as he realized there was someone sitting on top of him.

"You're awake?" Viserys asked, his tone more matter-of-fact than relieved.

As Illyrio regained consciousness, the servants rushed over, relieved that their jobs—and possibly their lives—were still secure.

"Uncle Illyrio!" Aegon called out, hurrying to his side.

Illyrio tried to reach out and touch Aegon's cheek, but a sharp pain tore through his body, making the effort agonizing. Despite the pain, he managed a smile.

At that moment, the Red Viper approached and saw Illyrio lying in a pitiful state on the ground. "I have medicine here," he said, handing a vial to a nearby servant. The Red Viper and Viserys exchanged a knowing look, understanding each other without a word.

...

The next morning, as Viserys and the Red Viper ate breakfast and chatted, Viserys asked, "Does he suspect us?"

"Why should he suspect you? Why should he suspect me? He should be thanking us," the Red Viper replied with a smirk.

Just as Viserys finished speaking, Belwas entered the room. "Lord Viserys, Lord Oberyn, Master Illyrio wishes to see you later to express his gratitude."

The Red Viper pretended to cough, struggling to contain his laughter. "No problem. How is Master Illyrio doing?"

"It's hard to say," Belwas responded. "Master Illyrio's burns are quite severe, but the healer says he was rescued in time and is not in danger of losing his life."

"That's great. We'll visit him after we finish eating," Viserys said, nodding.

Belwas thought to himself, 'What a kind man', before leaving the room.

As soon as Belwas was out of earshot, the Red Viper nearly burst out laughing, his body shaking as he put a hand on Viserys's shoulder. His laughter came out in stifled gasps, like a kettle on the verge of boiling over.

"Don't laugh, or you might not be able to keep it together when we see him later," Viserys warned, grinning. "We can't afford to reveal the secret."

The Red Viper took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his amusement was barely contained.

...

Later that day, when they entered Illyrio's new room, Aegon greeted them politely. Illyrio's original quarters were now uninhabitable, but there were plenty of rooms in his vast mansion. The servants had prepared a new room for him, filled with the strong scent of herbs. Illyrio lay motionless on the bed, wrapped almost entirely in bandages. He looked like a dried persimmon pecked at by birds.

The night before, Illyrio had lost something he cherished deeply—Serra's hand. Not only had he lost her hand, but much of her clothing had also been destroyed in the fire. His heart felt hollow, and the melancholy in his eyes made him appear even more pitiful.

Fortunately, Aegon was there to keep him company, offering comfort as Illyrio coped with his grief. Without Aegon, he might have felt as if he had already been buried alive.

"Master Illyrio!" The Red Viper was the first to reach Illyrio's bedside, but the moment he did, Illyrio let out a scream.

"My hand! My hand!" Illyrio cried out in pain.

It turned out that the Red Viper had accidentally sat on Illyrio's injured arm. "I'm sorry, Master Illyrio. I'm so sorry," he apologized quickly, realizing his mistake.

Illyrio winced, not only from the pain but also from the realization that the bottle of poison the Red Viper had given him earlier had been lost in the fire. Aegon glanced at the Red Viper with a hint of resentment but held his tongue. After all, Illyrio was still relying on the medicine the Red Viper had provided.

"No... it's okay," Illyrio said, his voice tinged with sadness. The bandages around his face obscured most of his expression, but his eyes betrayed his misery. The Red Viper and Viserys exchanged a quick, knowing glance; both understood that their "plan" was in jeopardy.

Illyrio, meanwhile, was feeling a pang of guilt. He had just been plotting Viserys's death, and now, ironically, Viserys had saved his life. But his alliance with Varys compelled him to continue with their plan. After all, while Viserys had saved him, he hadn't saved Varys or Connington. And if Connington ever learned the truth, Illyrio knew his own life would be in grave danger.

Deciding to make amends in another way, Illyrio spoke up. "Prince Viserys, I know you're interested in the dragon eggs. My fleet has just sent word that they've found three dragon eggs in the Shadow Lands of Asshai. I've already ordered their purchase. They should be in my possession within six months."

Viserys's eyes lit up at the news. 'These must be the three eggs that originally belonged to the Mother of Dragons', he thought—Drogon, the black dragon; Rhaegal, the bronze green one; and Viserion, the cream white one.

But with Dany not destined to marry the Horselord or bear his children, these dragons would likely have new names. 'I'll let Dany choose them', he decided.

"I'm grateful," Viserys said with a smile. "I'll raise the money I need. Of course, if you'll allow me to pay in installments," he added jokingly.

Illyrio quickly shook his head. "No, no, no. You deserve them. If it weren't for you, I'd have been burned to death. What good is money compared to that?"

Their conversation caught the attention of the Red Viper. 'Viserys is collecting dragon eggs', he thought, puzzled. 'What is he planning?' As far as the Red Viper knew, Viserys already possessed one dragon egg. If he added these three, he would have four. 'Is he trying to hatch dragons?' The Red Viper was stunned. If anyone else had such a plan, he would dismiss it as a joke. But with Viserys, it seemed entirely possible.

Illyrio had, of course, intended more than just expressing his gratitude with this meeting.

Although the plan to poison them had failed, Illyrio quickly devised another strategy. He turned to the young Aegon standing beside him and said, "Young Griff, I need to speak privately with the two princes. You can leave now."

"Okay, Uncle. Let me know if you need anything," Aegon replied before leaving the room.

Once Aegon was gone, Illyrio addressed Viserys and Oberyn. "Prince Viserys, Prince Oberyn, I have a secret to share with you."

Viserys and Oberyn exchanged a glance, each thinking, 'This man still believes he has secrets to reveal?'

"Young Griff is actually Jon Connington's son," Illyrio continued, revealing Aegon's true parentage. He explained that the coalition intended to bring Connington into their fold to assist them. On the surface, Connington had been the Hand of the King under Aerys, a man skilled in both governance and warfare. But secretly, Illyrio's true aim was to place Connington close to Viserys as a watchful eye.

As the saying goes, 'If the mountain won't come to me, I'll go to the mountain.' Since Connington was reluctant to join the Golden Company, I'll find a way to have him join the Windblown instead,' Illyrio thought with a sly smile.

Viserys, though inwardly unsurprised, feigned astonishment. "Really? That's unexpected," he replied, playing along. After confirming that Illyrio was out of immediate danger, the two princes left him to rest.

Once they had exited the room, the Red Viper wasted no time and turned to Viserys, eager to ask about the dragon eggs. "Tell me, are you planning to hatch a dragon?"

"Of course I want to hatch a dragon," Viserys admitted. "If I had a dragon, reclaiming the Iron Throne would be much easier! But where can I find a real dragon egg? Most of them have turned to stone by now. My main interest in the dragon eggs is to enhance my magic."

Viserys was as candid as he could be, though he withheld certain details. His apparent honesty made the Red Viper believe that this explanation was plausible. 'How powerful must the magic be to turn a fossilized egg into a living dragon?' he mused.

Later that afternoon, a messenger from Volantis arrived with news that the alliance had been finalized. Pentos would also send an envoy to accompany them to Myr. With everything settled, they decided to set sail for Myr as soon as possible.

Chapter 157: Viserys’s Paramour

Although they had not yet met Prince Pentos, the alliance had already been sealed. Kurland had sent his third son, Lightnere, and his fourth son, Dotnere, as envoys—a clear sign of good faith. The brothers did not sail with Viserys on the same ship but traveled instead on a merchant vessel belonging to the House Kurland, which followed the swan ship.

As they watched Viserys's ship ahead, they said to each other:

"That Viserys is something. He seems to have gotten the old man to agree to an alliance without even having to offer anything."

Lightnere had small eyes and a fondness for the color purple, so he always dressed in purple garments. He spoke without the slightest respect for his father. Dotnere, sitting next to him, remained silent, leaning over the railing and letting the sea breeze blow his long hair over his shoulders. He didn't care and had no desire to speak to his brother.

When it became clear that Dotnere wasn't going to respond, Lightnere asked, "Brother, what did you do when the old man sent you to Braavos six months ago?"

Dotnere glanced at him and replied, "Why do you think Father didn't tell you?"

"You must have gone to the Iron Bank," Lightnere said with a wicked smile.

Dotnere finally spoke: "I went to Volantis and got a lot of weapons. I don't know what the old man is planning."

The seagull perched on the mast behind them heard the conversation clearly, but Viserys had no time to figure it out.

...

"Right! The hardest time I had making money was when I was a hitman. Now, I get to travel around, not only with a ship, fifty Unsullied, but also with so much treasure."

When Viserys and the others left, Illyrio sent over another large pile of goods. The total value exceeded fifty thousand gold dragons. He also provided Viserys with twenty sailors to strengthen his defenses.

"Right, so you see, most do not venture out. Not even to places where they were born. They live and die in the same house, on the same plot of land, sometimes never going so far as to cross the nearest river. I really don't understand the point of it."

'The Red Viper,' Viserys thought, feeling a sense of familiarity. On second thought, he remembered that in the original story, the Red Viper had said something similar to the little imp. At that time, the little imp had remarked that the reason most people never venture out is because most people are "Fools".

Viserys didn't have the habit of ruining people's fun, so he just laughed it off.

"Well... maybe...," Feles hesitated, aware that he was merely a 'playmate,' so he didn't play his king's trump card. However, a large hand reached out from behind him, and the king's trump card was thrown onto the table. "Haha! The king's trump card!" Regis said proudly.

"I'm not going to play... anymore," Feles responded with some resentment.

Viserys knew what he was thinking, but chose not to expose him.

"We're almost at Myr. Are you ready to talk to the Magister of Myr?"

"Don't worry, my lord. I'll make sure Myr joins our alliance."

"Bring lots of gifts. Don't worry about the money. "

'I'll ask Tregar to reimburse me when we get back,' Viserys added to himself.

"Yes, my lord."

Soon after, everyone arrived at Myr. The ratio of free men to slaves in the Seven Kingdoms was about one to three, and Myr was no exception. Compared to the other two Free Cities, it was neither as noisy as Tyrosh nor as full of remnants from the Valyrian era as Lys. As the slave-trading center of the Seven Kingdoms, the Sea of Myrth was teeming with ships transporting slaves. Some came from Beyond the Wall in Westeros, and others from Slaver's Bay. Viserys saw several ships full of Unsullied, sitting like puppets at the bow of the ship. The man in blue and yellow robes was clearly a slave owner from Astapor.

In addition to the Unsullied, there were also gladiators from Meereen and bed slaves from Yunkai. However, these slaves with special skills were obviously more expensive and weren't shipped like common cargo. The ships carrying slaves invariably entered Myr, while Myr exported high-end handicrafts.

Soon, they docked at the pier. Viserys turned to Red Viper and Feles and said, "Okay, you two, take care of the alliance. Myr's spies are everywhere, so I can't be seen."

"Don't worry, Prince," Feles promised.

"Then be careful," Red Viper cautioned.

As she watched the two leave, Shinelli knew she would be left behind again, but she wanted to fight for herself. During the journey, Viserys had undoubtedly been the core of the team. In addition, Feles had been praising Viserys in her ear, and Shinelli had developed a lot of goodwill towards him.

Of course, the most important reason was that she, too, had to contribute to the revitalization of her house. She learned from Feles that from Sunspear to Pentos, everyone desired to marry the Prince.

Feles and Shinelli, knowing they lacked the status to compete, considered settling for a lesser role as his paramour. After all, if you capture a man's heart, you won't be treated any worse than the main wife.

As Viserys prepared to leave with Regis, Shinelli quickly said, "Prince, let me serve you."

Seeing this, Regis made a knowing smile, his expression playful.

To be honest, he really liked this girl who resembled Jennifer Connelly, especially today. Shinelli had carefully dressed for the occasion, her crystal-clear collarbone exposed like a masterpiece. But Viserys had already rejected Arianne, and if he didn't treat her fairly, it would create a rift with House Martell. Moreover, she was Feles' sister.

Viserys and Feles. Daenerys and Shinelli. The fates of these two sets of siblings were strikingly similar.

When Viserys sent Regis away, Shinelli suddenly became nervous, thinking he was about to make a move on her. However, Viserys stopped three steps away from her.

"Lady Shinelli, please convey the following to Feles."

"Prince, please speak." Shinelli squeezed her fingers and stood at attention, not daring to miss a word.

"Viserys II's wife came from House Rogare, and I am Viserys III. Isn't it interesting that we are destined to form an alliance?"

Shinelli felt her heart race and her ears burn. The sound of the waves, the bells on the docks, the cries of the seagulls—all the noises of the world seemed to fade away. She didn't even dare to look into Viserys' eyes and instead focused on his mouth, waiting for his words.

However, what came out of that mouth was not what she had expected.

"Lady Shinelli, I don't think I can ask you to be my wife, but our houses will remain allies. Tell Feles that I swear on my life and Dany's that I will always consider him my right hand, as long as House Rogare remains loyal."

Shinelli's eyes flashed with disappointment, but she still bowed slightly in response.

"Prince, don't worry. I will definitely convey your words to my brother."

Chapter 158: Faceless Men‎?

"It's a real art to pacify people."

Viserys declined Conwyra's offer to accompany him and wandered through the city alone. He soon discovered that faith in R'hllor seemed to dominate Myr. Every now and then, he spotted a red priest walking along the streets.

The city had two ring-shaped commercial streets lined with vibrant shops. Carpets, screens, mirrors, lace, glass—an array of colorful handicrafts adorned both sides. From above, the streets would resemble a necklace inlaid with colorful gems. The Unsullied patrolled diligently, their presence unmistakable.

At one stall, Viserys noticed a vendor displaying what appeared to be picture frames. Upon closer inspection, he realized they were Myr's renowned "miniatures." He picked up one, no larger than his palm, and marveled at the detail. It depicted a battlefield: one side bore a blue banner, the other a red flag. Soldiers clashed, knights charged, and the soldiers' armor and weapons were intricately painted. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, down to the smallest detail.

There were many themes among the miniatures. Two larger ones featured dragons. One portrayed the end of Valyria, its base colors a haunting gray and red. Countless peaks erupted simultaneously, spewing scarlet magma and hurling massive rocks through the sky. Dragons struggled to take flight, some seemingly held back by unseen forces, while others were struck by falling debris. Viserys could even discern the Valyrian dragonlords weeping in the corners, identifiable by the exquisite crowns on their heads.

The artistry was nothing short of breathtaking.

The merchant, a woman in her thirties, stood nearby. Time had left few marks on her. Her olive-toned arms were bare, and her chest was exposed in a way that seemed calculated to attract customers.

The shopkeeper glanced at Viserys and, noticing his handsome features, decided to offer a small discount. "Feel free to look around, dear customer. If something catches your eye, I can give you a discount."

Viserys nodded, his gaze settling on the miniature of Valyria's Doom. "This one will do," he said, pointing to it. Since Euron had already reached the Smoking Sea, Valyria couldn't be far off. Through this miniature, he imagined he could catch a glimpse of the ancient ruins.

After wandering through the shop a bit more, he noticed a surprising item for sale: high heels. He passed on those but chose a few ornate mirrors to give as gifts.

Navigating the bustling streets, Viserys led a few Unsullied into a lace specialty store. To his surprise, the lace here wasn't just the simple cotton and linen he had imagined. Much of it was made from precious metals like gold and silver. The cotton and linen lace was in short supply, with only a few small samples on display. Realizing he lacked the knowledge to produce lace, Viserys concluded that any "underwear revolution" would be limited in scope.

As he was about to leave the shop, a woman wearing a veil caught his attention. Despite the special gauze hat she wore, her silver hair was unmistakable. Silver hair was rare in Myr. Her attire was particularly exquisite, with intricate lace trim at the cuffs and hem, woven with gold and silver thread. Though she wore little jewelry, she exuded an air of mystery and luxury.

Viserys, however, didn't dwell on her presence and left the store. But as soon as he stepped out, the woman followed him. Her behavior did not escape the Golden Eagle's keen observation. Despite his attempts to evade her by quickening his pace and changing directions, she kept up effortlessly.

He realized that if she could keep pace with him, she was no ordinary person. 'Could she be one of the Faceless Men?' he thought, a chill running down his spine as his pulse quickened. But after a moment's reflection, he dismissed the idea. 'How could the Faceless Men know I'm in Myr?'

Faceless Man or not, the fact that she dared to follow him meant he had to uncover her identity.

Through the eyes of the Golden Eagle, Viserys spotted a dim, empty alley nearby and quickly turned into it. As he anticipated, the woman followed. He stopped and turned around when he heard her footsteps approaching from behind.

Before Viserys could speak, the woman spoke his name. "Prince Viserys, is this the place you chose for our date?"

Her voice was seductive, a sound that seemed to pierce directly into his heart. The way her red lips moved beneath the veil exuded an irresistible allure. 'Who is this?' Viserys thought, but asking outright felt beneath him, as though it would diminish his authority. Whoever she was, she had chased him here for a reason, and it likely wasn't a good one.

Instead, he retorted, "Where did you come from, old woman? Are you so desperate for a man that you're chasing after me?"

The woman paused, then laughed—a laugh so enticing it felt like a cat scratching at his heart, leaving him itching for more. "Prince Viserys, your tongue is as sharp as a sword. Don't you want to know who I am?"

Her voice, dripping with temptation, almost compelled him to ask, but he resisted, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend himself.

The woman slowly lifted her veil, revealing silver-blonde hair and a stunning face.

'Liv Tyler?' Viserys thought.

Seeing the amazement in Viserys's eyes, the corners of the woman's mouth curved into a slightly proud smile.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me!" she teased, a smug smile playing on her lips as she observed the shock in Viserys' eyes. "In terms of lineage, I'm your great-grandmother."

"Great-grandmother?!" Viserys echoed, his fantasies shattering as he stared into her mismatched eyes—one blue, one green. Around her neck, a necklace of blue and green gems confirmed his suspicions. Two words thundered in his mind: Shiera Seastar. She was from the same era as Bittersteel Aegor and one of the noble bastards of "King Aegon the Unworthy." A character from over a century ago! How could she still be alive—and so youthful?

As the realization hit him, a chill ran down his spine, an unease he hadn't felt since arriving in this world.

"It seems you've figured it out," Shiera Seastar said, her voice like a song, every word she spoke laced with enchantment. Though Viserys didn't want to believe it, her heterochromia and her evident love of lace made it all too likely—this was indeed Shiera Seastar.

Chapter 159: Shiera Seastar

That wretched Aegon IV—his life was nothing but a cycle of indulgence in food, drink, sleep, and women. Not only did he scatter his seed across the realm, but before his death, he also committed one final, grievous act: legitimizing all his bastards, giving them a claim to the throne. The root of the Blackfyre Rebellion lies with him. Because of his reckless actions, Shiera Seastar's claim to be Viserys' great-grandmother wasn't far-fetched.

"So, you really are Shiera Seastar?" Viserys asked, deciding it would be wise not to provoke her without knowing her true strength.

"What? Are you just going to chat with me here?" she teased, her voice laced with a strange allure. Viserys felt a deep urge to leave, but this woman was far too enigmatic to ignore. If she had found him so easily, she could become a serious threat in the future. It would be better to uncover her intentions now, so he could prepare.

Under Shiera's guidance, they arrived at a small, exquisite courtyard. In the center stood a Weirwood tree, which struck Viserys as particularly odd. The faith of the Red God had spread across the continent, and the Greenseer's faith had long since faded, yet here it was, thriving in this hidden corner. Two bed slaves attended to them, their faces marked with tear tattoos, indicating they had likely been bought from Volantis. It seemed they also served Shiera in other ways.

Shiera poured Viserys a glass of pale green mead. Although the color was unusual, it was a specialty of Myr. Viserys paid little attention to the drink's hue; his mind was consumed by questions about Shiera.

How had she recognized him? How had she found him? And most perplexing of all—how had she maintained her youthful beauty for over a century? Rumor had it that Shiera's mother, Serenei, also appeared far younger than her years, possibly due to blood magic. Some even whispered that she bathed in blood to preserve her youth. Viserys decided to start with the least sensitive question.

"How did you recognize me, Lady Shiera?" he asked, choosing to address her with a title that acknowledged her seniority.

Shiera leaned back in her chair, her silk garments outlining her seductive curves. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want something from me. Surely you won't deny me the satisfaction of satisfying my curiosity," he replied. Despite himself, Viserys felt a growing pressure in her presence. There was something unnerving about a woman who had lived for over a hundred years. Her eyes, deep and mysterious, seemed to beckon him into their depths.

"Don't you want to know how I've kept my appearance unchanged for over a century?" she asked, her tone almost playful.

"Birth, aging, sickness, and death are natural. Defying them must come at a great cost," Viserys observed. For a brief moment, Shiera's expression faltered, but then she smiled again.

"You're very perceptive, Viserys. That's one of the reasons I sought you out."

"Me?" Viserys was bewildered. What could he possibly have to do with immortality?

But Shiera's next words left him utterly speechless.

"Viserys, make me pregnant."

"What?"

As soon as Shiera spoke those words, the Weirwood tree at the center of the courtyard trembled. A gust of wind swept through, carrying away all sound, leaving the courtyard eerily silent. The bed slaves standing nearby seemed oblivious, as if they hadn't heard anything.

Viserys realized that this situation was spiraling into the absurd. He needed to regain control. "You're incredibly beautiful, Lady Shiera. I remember that both Bittersteel and Bloodraven pursued you once. Has it really been over a hundred years since you've... with anyone? Why me?"

Shiera's response sent a chill down his spine. "None of them had pure Dragonlord blood. Only you can continue our existence."

Her voice was unsettling, as if a dozen or more women were speaking in unison. Each voice was beautiful, but the effect was unnerving, coming from a single mouth.

Viserys realized something was off. "Wait, 'continue our existence'? You're not just Shiera, are you? Are you Serenei of Lys? Or are you both sharing a body?"

The realization hit him like a wave of dread. It felt as though he was sitting before some indescribable eldritch entity, and the instinct to flee surged within him. Yet he remained seated, unsure if he could even stand up, let alone run.

Shiera smiled, her voice returning to normal. "You're clever, but not entirely correct," she said. "I am Shiera, but I've retained the memories and habits of my previous selves. If you help me, I'll share with you the secrets of Valyria. I'll start with myself."

Shiera explained that her mother's house had always possessed a unique trait. After a mother gave birth, she would die, but part of her memories, habits, and consciousness would pass into the child. These memories would gradually awaken as the child grew.

Shiera's first mother had lived during the time of Valyria. Over the centuries, these women became living "human history books," carrying the memories of past generations. Shiera claimed to remember significant events from the last 3,500 years of Valyrian history as vividly as if she had witnessed them herself. She offered to share these secrets with Viserys if he agreed to help her.

She also hinted at more advanced blood magic she could teach him in exchange for his assistance.

The offer was tempting. Viserys could indulge himself, gain knowledge of Valyria's secrets, and even learn powerful magic. But he knew it couldn't be that simple. Shiera was a creature with thousands of years of accumulated knowledge, who had likely manipulated countless others. What if she used her blood magic on him when they discussed the origin of life?

"Lady Shiera, please wait a moment," Viserys said, standing up and turning his back to her. He intended to use the Moon's Revelation to assess if she posed a danger.

However, to his surprise, the "Moon of Revelation" in his mind wouldn't coalesce, meaning the divination had failed. This had never happened before. He turned back to Shiera, his expression grave, but she merely smiled, as if nothing was amiss.

"Lady Shiera, what if I can't help you?"

Her smile remained, but her tone grew colder. "Then I will do whatever it takes. I must survive."

"But you've lived for nearly 4,000 years. Aren't you tired of it?"

For a brief moment, Shiera's ever-present smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of despondence. "Yes, you're right..." she began, her voice tinged with weariness. But before the words could fully settle, several other voices—distinct and feminine—cut in sharply from within her.

"No! You don't understand!" Shiera began to argue with herself, each voice battling for dominance.

"Continue! This is our mission!"

"No! I'm too tired. Let's end it here. Valyria is gone."

"But the world still exists! We continue until the end!"

"Valyria is gone. What's the point anymore?"

Suddenly, Shiera's head snapped toward Viserys, her eyes wild as she spoke in a chorus of voices, "Viserys, kill me!"

Her expression shifted again as other voices shouted, "No! No!"

Viserys watched, alarmed as the situation unraveled before him. He hadn't realized that his simple question would fracture Shiera's psyche so deeply, leaving her torn between a desperate will to survive and a longing for release.

Chapter 160: Portraits

The situation with Shiera was deeply unsettling, a scene that would unnerve anyone who witnessed it. Yet, the two maidservants standing behind her—deaf and mute—remained oblivious, unaware of the strange happenings. Despite the eerie silence between them, the courtyard felt unnervingly lively, as though a hidden tension hummed in the air.

"Calm down, Shiera, and everyone else, please calm down!" Viserys urged, his voice wavering with uncertainty. He had no idea how to handle this. His blood magic, fire magic—none of it seemed relevant to this bizarre situation. His newly learned water magic was barely sufficient to splash someone's face with a water arrow, let alone manage a crisis like this.

Fortunately, something finally happened. One of the maidservants crossed the courtyard to the Weirwood tree and plucked a few leaves. She chewed them, then approached Shiera and leaned down, passing the leaf pulp into her mouth in a gesture that was oddly intimate. The sight of it made Viserys' ears flush slightly with embarrassment.

But it worked. After swallowing the leaf pulp, Shiera seemed noticeably calmer. Viserys was surprised—could the Weirwood leaves really have such an effect?

"Lady... Shiera?" Viserys asked cautiously.

"I feel much better," Shiera replied, waving a hand dismissively.

"And the others?" he asked, referring to the conflicting voices that had just battled for control.

"They've calmed down as well," she assured him.

Viserys nodded, then asked, "Senior, are you in such a hurry to get a new body because this one is failing?"

Shiera took a sip of her mead before answering. "Yes. The magic that sustains my body is slowly losing its potency as the world's magic wanes. This body has only two and a half years left at most."

'Two years and a half', Viserys thought to himself. He was about to speak, but Shiera continued, "In fact, this body is reaching its limit, just like him."

She gestured toward the withering Weirwood, and Viserys understood she was referring to the current Greenseer, Brynden Rivers.

He pondered why Shiera was experiencing this. It seemed that each generation of her consciousness was relatively independent, possibly due to the different environments they lived in. This had led to a divergence within her—some parts of her mind longed for death, while others clung desperately to life. These conflicting desires had created a dangerous imbalance within her.

Viserys thought for a moment and said, "Shiera, and all the others within you—since some of you are weary of this world and others still wish to remain, I might have an alternative solution."

"Oh? What solution?" Shiera asked, her interest piqued.

"Have you heard of the Three-Headed God?" Viserys was referring to the Valyrian magic treasure in Tyrosh.

One head devoured death, another breathed life, and the purpose of the third head remained a mystery. After he had touched the statue, something had changed within him, leading Viserys to believe that the third head might be connected to the soul and consciousness.

"Perhaps," he continued, "the consciousness within you that has lived long enough could be separated through that magic treasure."

Shiera listened, then shook her head with a different voice, "I'm impressed you know of the Three-Headed God's true function, but I'm sorry to say it's not possible."

"Not possible?" Viserys frowned. "I don't even fully understand its true function, so please, enlighten me."

Shiera's spirit seemed to shift as she shared more, "You're close. That artifact did indeed have the ability to separate a person's memory and consciousness, placing them in other objects. Some descendants of the Dragonlords would use it to preserve their ancestors' consciousness in portraits to remember them. But now, it's impossible. That device requires an immense amount of magic to operate, and the world's magic has waned too much. Besides, I've seen it—the runes on it are half-eroded, and no one alive can repair it."

Her tone was proud, almost dismissive, as she added, "And besides, the Targaryens, though a Dragonlord family, were among the weakest. They were never worthy of using such powerful magic."

Viserys was taken aback. This was the first time anyone had suggested that his bloodline wasn't noble enough, but he understood her point. At its peak, Valyria had over a thousand dragons, and more than 800 of them belonged to just a few powerful Dragonlord families. When the Targaryens fled westward, they brought only three dragons, a paltry number by Valyrian standards. It explained why Aenar Targaryen, the first Dragonlord to come to Dragonstone, had left so easily.

But Viserys was still wary. He couldn't be sure if Shiera was being entirely truthful or playing a game with him. He knew he couldn't let his desires cloud his judgment. "Well, Lady Shiera, everyone, I'm not even sure I can give you what you want. What if I can't?"

Shiera's gaze pierced through him as she replied, "You got Faria pregnant. What are you afraid of?"

"Falia is pregnant?!" Viserys exclaimed, his disbelief evident. It felt like being jolted awake by a sharp slap during a deep sleep. Shock overwhelmed him, followed by a wave of panic. He had never been a father before, and now he was going to be one—twice over!

Falia was a woman who knew how to navigate the world, but how difficult would her life become if she was truly pregnant? An overwhelming urge to go to Braavos and find her surged within him.

Seeing the look on Viserys's face, Shiera spoke in a gentler tone, "She drank moon tea."

'Ah, that explained it. If Falia had actually been pregnant, I would have heard something by now.' "So, moon tea not only prevents pregnancy but also induces abortion?" Viserys asked.

Relieved, yet oddly hollow inside, he was thankful given his current circumstances. Still, a part of him couldn't shake the emptiness that lingered. He knew he'd need to return to Braavos and check on Falia eventually. 'But wait—how did Shiera even know about this?'

The question nagged at him, but a more pressing issue remained: how to refuse Shiera's request. An idea suddenly struck him.

"Shiera, do you mind if I make a, uh, donation?" he asked, trying to mask his intentions behind cryptic words. He figured he could at least try to offer her something less direct.

But Shiera caught on immediately. "No," she replied, her voice firm. "What I need is a union of body and soul. What do you think I am, a horse?"

Chapter 161: The Stillborn Child of the Mother of Dragons

Viserys knew he wasn't yet skilled enough to engage in the intricate and perilous dance of life and death with the enigmatic Shiera. Yet, the thought of abandoning the wealth of magic, knowledge, and experience locked within her was unbearable. He had heard rumors of Shiera's secret library, a treasure trove that could hold countless coveted relics and forbidden texts.

"Senior, I can offer you some dragon blood. Would that be of any use to you?" he ventured.

"Dragon blood?" Shiera's eyes gleamed with sudden interest. It was clear that dragon blood held significant value to her.

"Yes, real dragon blood," Viserys confirmed.

"How much do you have? I'll take it all!" Shiera replied eagerly.

"I can only offer you this glass," he said, pointing to the small wine glass on the table.

"Five glasses!" she countered.

"I don't have that much."

"Two glasses, then."

"Agreed," Viserys nodded, "but you'll have to do me a favor in return."

The pact was sealed quickly, and Shiera was set to return to Lys soon. Viserys knew that Feles, who had recently joined his side, was weak and of limited use. But if Shiera, with her vast knowledge and power, could be persuaded to join him, it would be a game-changer.

"Feles?" Shiera scoffed. "I know him well. He doesn't have a drop of Dragonlord blood in his veins, not even a trace."

Satisfied with their temporary agreement, Viserys took the opportunity to ask Shiera how she had known so much about him.

She revealed two key insights about the Dragonlords. First, she had been able to locate Viserys through her unique constitution, which passively connected her to others of Targaryen blood. Her ability to use blood magic, combined with this connection, allowed her to divine information about Viserys with remarkable efficiency. In the Valyrian era, Shiera explained, those of the most noble Dragonlord families often had individuals with similar abilities.

Shiera then divulged that she had originally been created by House Sennesta, one of the most powerful and prestigious Dragonlord families. At their peak, they had commanded 275 dragons.

"Wait, created?" Viserys caught onto the crucial detail.

"It's not surprising you didn't know. All Dragonlords were created, which is why they insist on marrying close relatives," Shiera explained.

Viserys scratched his head, signaling that he wanted to hear more.

"Did the Targaryen family produce many deformed fetuses when they married within the family?" Shiera asked.

Viserys nodded.

"The more noble the Dragonlord family, the higher the likelihood of producing deformed or stillborn fetuses. Take the House Sennesta, for example. Almost every birth resulted in twins, where one twin was deformed or stillborn while the other was healthy."

"So, does that mean the more powerful the Dragonlord family, the more unstable their bloodline?" Viserys asked.

"Bloodline?" Shiera echoed, then added, "Yes, you could put it that way. The fact that House Targaryen has never produced a mutant suggests your bloodline is relatively stable."

Seeing Viserys' confusion, Shiera elaborated further. "A 'mutant' refers to a fetus with dragon-like traits that survives—such as wings on its back, horns on its head, or scales on its body. It's said that these mutants, if they survive, grow up to have extraordinary magical abilities."

Viserys recalled that Rhaego, the son of Daenerys and Khal Drogo, was rumored to have been born with wings and scales. He wasn't sure if the child had been stillborn, given that the maegi who attended the birth was untrustworthy. It wasn't impossible that witchcraft had been used to kill Rhaego.

Feeling overwhelmed by this revelation on his first day in Myr, Viserys told Shiera he needed time to process everything. He promised to send her some dragon blood later, and she agreed.

...

After leaving Shiera, Viserys returned to his ship. Feles and the Red Viper had been productive, finalizing their alliance in just two days.

"The commander in Myr might be a noble named Cassiel, who seems to have some influence," Feles informed Viserys. According to him, Myr had decided to join the alliance almost immediately upon reviewing the contract. They had little choice—Tyrosh controlled the Stepstones, and taxing trade routes was cutting into Myr's profits. Myr, heavily involved in import and export trade, saw the alliance as a lucrative opportunity for future gains.

After a brief discussion, Red Viper and Viserys turned their attention to fire magic. Red Viper produced a candle and attempted to light another one from a distance. Despite his efforts, he could only "pull" the flame slightly, unable to match Viserys's skill.

"How long have you been practicing?" Viserys asked. "Read the notes I gave you carefully. I estimate it should take about half a year."

"It's going to be half a year," Red Viper replied, sounding a bit disappointed.

Viserys could sense that Red Viper wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the coalition operation. Nevertheless, as long as Sunspear's army could reach Tyrosh, their alliance would hold. With the agreement finalized, everyone decided to return to their respective lands.

Viserys handed the ship over to Red Viper, who would sail back to Sunspear. Meanwhile, Viserys and Feles chose to travel by land, planning to head to Dragon's Flame Fortress before making their way to Tyrosh. But first, they needed to send a message to Daenerys.

...

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking...

"Ser Jorah! Ser Jorah!"

Jorah, who had been enjoying the company of a prostitute, hurried out, his expression anxious.

"Princess," he greeted as he met Daenerys.

"My brother is back, and he wants you to come with me to meet him," Daenerys said, her tone serious.

"Huh? How do you—how do you know?" Jorah stammered.

"My brother doesn't want to discuss it," she replied, her expression resolute. "I need you to come with me now."

"Okay... okay, just give me a moment," Jorah agreed, quickly dressing despite the reluctance of leaving his comfort behind. He wouldn't dare complain; everything he had now was because of Viserys. After breaking ties with the Iron Throne, he had expected his life to worsen. Instead, he found himself leading over 300 men in a mercenary group, a position he hadn't anticipated.

Viserys's sudden disappearances and reappearances had become normal, so Jorah didn't question it. He quickly gathered a few guards, ready to depart. But just as they were about to leave, two skinny, teenage slaves suddenly ran up to Daenerys.

"Young Mother, Young Mother, it's bad! Someone's trying to kidnap someone!"

The boys were out of breath, and one looked as pale as a ghost. It was clear that they had escaped from some terrible situation and were even more terrified by what they had witnessed.

"Calm down, and tell me what's happening," Daenerys urged them gently.

Chapter 162: Young Mother is Powerful

Before Dany could reach the relief station, a slave owner was already there, trying to reclaim his property with the help of a few burly thugs. The target of his ire was a 16-year-old maiden named Bea, who had been assisting Dany at the station for some time. The other slaves around them looked on in terror, as if watching a wolf tear apart a lamb in their midst.

The slaves' clothes were drab, mostly earthy yellows and linen hues, worn and dull despite being clean. They stood in stark contrast to the slave owner, who sat on his horse, dressed in bright, flamboyant garments and a garish hat, like a bloom of color among withered leaves.

An elderly slave, his hair gray with age, couldn't stand it any longer and stepped forward to intervene. But the thugs were brutal, and they beat him bloody with their clubs without hesitation. The slave owner, dressed in a red robe, pointed at the slaves gathered at the relief station and shouted, "You thieves! Now that you're healthy, you should be back to work, not lounging around here!"

Seeing that he had cowed the hundreds of slaves with his display of power, the slave master grew even more arrogant. His eyes fell on a handsome young slave in the crowd, a boy of 16 or 17 years. Grinning, he revealed yellowed teeth as he said, "Virgil, it's been a while since I've seen you in the Garden of Love. Don't worry, your master will come for you soon!"

Virgil's blood ran cold at the mention of the Garden of Love. His already pale face turned ashen. The place where Dany had found him was infamous; he had been nearly dead from an overdose of some drug when she saved him. Dany had been preparing to bury him when he miraculously revived.

"No! Master Koxhmar, please, I've already died once for my master. Please, no!" Virgil pleaded, his voice trembling with fear.

But the slave owner, Koxhmar, showed no compassion. "Hmph! Unless you're truly dead, you'll have to work!" he sneered, then ordered his thugs, "Tie him up too. I'll enjoy him tonight."

Three burly men advanced on Virgil, who was so terrified he could barely stand. The other slaves watched helplessly, knowing that if they tried to intervene, they would be the next to be taken.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air...

Koxhmar's horse reared up and threw him to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Assassin!" Koxhmar's thugs quickly retreated, forming a defensive circle around their fallen master, scanning the area for any sign of danger.

"Young Mother! Young Mother is here! It's the Young Mother!" The slaves cried out as they spotted Dany, riding toward them on a white horse, a crossbow in her hand. She had fired the shot that spooked Koxhmar's horse, and now, with a cold, unwavering gaze, she reloaded her weapon and aimed it at him.

With the sight of Dany standing up for them, hundreds of slaves flocked around her like frightened ducklings seeking the safety of their mother. Bea, the slave girl who had been seized, took the opportunity to escape and rushed to Dany's side.

"How dare you kill my horse!" Koxhmar spat angrily, ready to hurl insults, but then he noticed the group of mercenaries standing behind Dany. Realizing the strength she had at her command, he quickly reassessed his next move, swallowing his rage as he reconsidered his options.

"What are you doing?" Dany demanded.

Koxhmar looked at her with a sneer. "Lady Daenerys, I'm here to reclaim my slave. What are you doing? Robbery?" He scoffed.

'If you can't use force, then you'll have to reason with me. Fortunately, I'm a reasonable man, and there's nothing wrong with me coming to claim what's mine.'

"Bea was found by me—and she was abandoned by you. When did she become your slave?"

Koxhmar's smile turned sly as he added, "Lady Daenerys, that's not true. She ran away on her own—how could I have abandoned her? Do you have any proof to back up your claim?"

His expression shifted to one of cruelty as he barked, "Bea! Come back with me, or I'll beat you to death!"

The frail girl trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't dare refuse, but her gaze turned to Dany, pleading silently for help.

Just as Dany was about to respond, she noticed a group of people approaching from a distance. They were slave owners, all coming to reclaim their slaves. The sight drained the color from many of the slaves' faces, leaving them in despair.

If it had been just one or two slave owners, Dany might have managed, but this was too many, and some belonged to powerful families. The situation was quickly becoming untenable.

"Young Mother, let us go. We are lucky enough as it is, and we will never forget your kindness," an elderly slave said, kneeling before Dany's horse.

Seeing this, the other slaves understood they could no longer stay at the relief station without causing more trouble for Dany. They began to kneel around her, their hopes shattered.

Dany frowned, feeling the weight of their desperation. Jorah, standing behind her, was equally powerless to resolve the situation. Koxhmar's smug, offensive expression only fueled the fire in her purple eyes.

'Brother, what would you do if you were here?' Dany wondered.

Forcing the slaves to stay would provoke the wrath of the other slave owners, who might rather kill the slaves than let them serve as symbols of defiance. But letting them leave would undermine the relief station's role as a sanctuary, stripping it of its value and significance.

Of course, Dany could try to negotiate, offering the slave owners money as "treatment costs." But in that case, the slaves would be grateful to their masters, not to her, which wouldn't achieve the effect Viserys wanted.

Unless... she made the slaves buy their own freedom.

Having pieced together a solution, Dany spoke up. "These slaves are indeed yours, and we have no right to keep them."

Koxhmar smiled smugly, confident that he had won. Perhaps the reputation of the Windblown or "Viserys the Pirate Slayer" was enough to intimidate him, but Dany herself didn't seem to pose much of a threat.

The slaves around Dany felt a sinking despair at her words, but they also knew there was little to be unhappy about—at least they would save their lives. The only regret was that they hadn't been able to repay the kindness of their "Young Mother."

But then Dany continued, "Since these are your slaves, they are your property, and I have saved you from a loss. Are you really going to take them away without offering anything in return?"

Koxhmar's smile faltered. He realized she was asking for compensation. But how much? If it was too much, it might not be worth it. After all, slaves were consumable, replaceable assets. Who would spend a fortune to treat them?

"In that case, Lady Daenerys, name your price," Koxhmar said, his tone becoming cautious. He had already decided that if Dany's demands were unreasonable, he would take her to court.

"I saved their lives, so I think it's only fair that they work for me for a while, don't you?" Dany suggested.

Jorah couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for Dany's quick thinking.

But how long could they keep this up?

The slave owners, on the other hand, were pleased with this arrangement. They could simply throw the near-dead slaves into the pit and, after some time, they would return to reclaim them. To them, this sounded like an excellent deal.

"Deal. I'll come back in six months to collect them," Koxhmar said, smirking.

"Six months? Are you mad? Three years!" Dany countered firmly.

"Three years?" The slave owners exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. The idea seemed excessive. Most slaves had a "service life" of three to five years, ten at the most. Three years was longer than they were willing to wait.

Dany had deliberately suggested three years to buy time. She had no intention of giving them any real ground.

"This is too long. Lady Daenerys, could we have more time to consider?" Koxhmar asked, his earlier confidence waning.

But Dany had no patience for further discussion. With a flash of anger, she declared, "The matter is settled for now. This is the territory of the Windblown. Do you think you do as you please?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough authority to make the slave owners uneasy. They suddenly remembered that the Windblown had stationed 300 soldiers in Tyrosh—a force not to be trifled with.

"Ser Jorah!" Dany commanded.

"Yes, my lady!" Jorah replied immediately.

"Hang this Koxhmar up!" she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Koxhmar had overstepped by attempting to seize slaves without so much as a word. Showing any weakness now would only invite further disrespect. Jorah had no objections; he understood that a show of strength was necessary.

"No! What are you doing, you girl—" Koxhmar's words were cut short as Jorah's iron-gloved fist smashed into his face, the impact like a bear's paw. Blood and teeth flew as Koxhmar crumpled.

The other slave owners watched in stunned silence as Koxhmar was hoisted up the Windblown flagpole, a grim warning. When Dany turned her gaze on them, they quickly slunk away, not daring to challenge her further.

The slaves at the relief station erupted in cheers as they watched their would-be oppressors flee. They joined hands, dancing around Dany as she sat atop her horse, singing praises to their "Young Mother."

After ensuring the relief station was secure, Dany hurried to Viserys's location. It had been the longest they'd been apart, and she missed him dearly.

Chapter 163: Since I Can’t Stay in Lys, Let’s Go to Tyrosh

Viserys made an unexpected discovery—most of the Unsullied couldn't ride horses. It wasn't entirely surprising when he thought about it. After all, they were trained as infantry, not cavalry. Given their lack of equestrian skills, it was impossible to assign them to the precious cavalry unit.

So, when he left Myr, Viserys had to arrange for several large carts to transport them. A caravan of ten roofed carts and several horse-drawn carriages set off for Dragon's Flame Fortress.

Inside one of the carriages, Viserys handed Feles a small vial of dragon's blood and instructed him, "When you arrive in Lys, a certain Lady will contact you."

"When you return, aim for the position of a battle commander. That Lady will assist you."

"I understand, Prince," Feles replied, his voice tinged with excitement. He knew the significance of Viserys' words. Not only had he secured an alliance with the prince, but if he could secure the role of commander in Lys, his influence would soar. While becoming a top noble might be out of reach, House Rogare would certainly regain its place in the Lys council chamber.

Meanwhile, Shinelli, sitting nearby, occasionally glanced at Viserys. Although she had been rejected, she couldn't help but fantasize. In her mind, it hadn't even felt like a rejection. 'I never truly thought of marrying him, anyway', she mused.

As the others chatted, Regis suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with concern. "My lord, a group of cavalry is approaching us."

The siblings tensed. They had encountered bandits on the road over the past few days, but with a hundred Unsullied accompanying them, they hadn't been truly threatened. However, cavalry was a different matter.

From the perspective of the golden eagle, Viserys knew it was Jorah and his men. But he wasn't inclined to reveal his powers at every turn, so he simply reassured the siblings.

Unexpectedly, Regis soon added, "It's the Windblown."

The caravan halted, and Viserys stepped out of the carriage just in time to see Dany on her white horse.

"Brother!" Dany leaped from her horse and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like a deer seeking comfort. She buried her face in his chest, desperate to absorb his scent.

After calming Dany, she turned to the caravan behind Viserys. Watching the Unsullied, with their spiked helmets, clamber out of the wagons one by one, she felt a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Jorah, too, couldn't help but wonder where Viserys had been and how he had managed to return with a contingent of Unsullied.

Dany, however, was not entirely surprised, having seen Unsullied before in Tyrosh. But the next moment, her attention was drawn to a girl with silver hair, just like her own, stepping out of the carriage.

'Silver hair!' Dany thought, a flash of alarm passing through her. But when she saw Feles disembark as well, she relaxed, realizing they were likely siblings.

"Ser Jorah, you will escort Feles to Lys," Viserys commanded.

"Yes, my lord," Jorah responded automatically, though confusion quickly clouded his features. "Prince? Lys?"

"Don't ask questions. Just go."

Jorah hesitated, puzzled by the order. 'Did he go to Lys during this time? But why?' Despite his doubts, he obeyed. After all, if Viserys intended him harm, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths. 'Anyone who wants to kill me could do it with a single glance from him.'

Not far from Dragon's Flame Fortress, the group split up. Jorah escorted Feles to Lys, while Viserys and Dany returned to the fortress. As they departed, Shinelli couldn't resist glancing back.

Upon arriving at Dragon's Flame Fortress, Viserys noticed something odd. Alongside the blue and white flag of the Windblown, a new banner flew—one bearing three wolf heads.

"While you were away, a mercenary group called the 'Wolf Pack' came to help defend the fortress," Dany explained. It seemed Tyrosh wasn't confident in leaving the defense solely to the Windblown, so they had brought in the Wolf Pack as a counterbalance.

The Wolf Pack was a mercenary group formed by the "surplus population" released by the North after the Dance of the Dragons. Though they were originally from Westeros, this group had long since lost any connection to their homeland. They had lived on the continent of Essos for over a century, intermarrying with the locals. Calling them Westerosi no longer seemed appropriate.

Viserys couldn't treat this group the same way he treated Webber and the others. These people had no interest in returning to Westeros.

"How many are there?" he asked.

"According to Lady Meris, there were about 1,000, but a large number were transferred out recently, so there are now less than 300 left," came the reply.

Viserys nodded. This was a manageable number. Although they might not be able to stop the Windblown entirely, they could certainly buy some time if trouble arose.

It also showed that the 'paralysis tactics' he and the old captain had used were very effective. Tyrosh had nearly handed the Dragon's Flame Fortress over to the Windblown. 'This gives me a better chance,' he thought.

Viserys winked at Dany and said, "I'll go find the captain first. I brought you a gift."

"Huh?" Although she had much to say, Dany simply watched Viserys leave.

...

The closer Viserys got to returning, the more uneasy the old captain Hoyt became. When he heard that Viserys was coming back, he almost wished he could go and greet him in person. However, to avoid revealing his whereabouts, and because he couldn't leave the Mercenary Group as its leader, they sent Jorah instead, along with some of their personal guards, to welcome Viserys.

As soon as Viserys returned to the Dragon's Flame Fortress, he went straight to Hoyt's room.

"How is it?" Hoyt asked hurriedly when he saw Viserys. His eyes were wide open, with red-tinged eye bags, and his neck stretched out as if trying to reach the answer faster.

Viserys smiled and said, "It's done!" He then presented the alliance, which set the date for the joint expedition, just over a month away.

Hoyt looked at the alliance, with its gold-threaded seal, as if he were dreaming. In less than a month, such a massive alliance had been formed, and he no longer had to worry. Though Hoyt didn't ask many questions, Viserys knew he was eager to hear about the current situation, so he began recounting his trip to Pentos.

"That bastard," Hoster muttered, his eyes showing disdain yet also amazement at Viserys's understanding of human nature. 'He's still the same after all these years.'

In truth, Hoster had already figured it out. 'How could Pentos be so easy to conquer? But if Viserys can form an alliance with Sunspear, then it might not be long before he attacks Westeros. Even if Pentos can't be taken down for now, the Windblown can make use of it first.'

"We'll have a meeting in a while to pass on the news of the alliance. How about a month from now? This way, it won't be easy for the news to leak, and it will also allow the sergeants and soldiers below to prepare in advance."

Viserys looked at Hoyt and tentatively said, "Commander, I have an idea."

Hoyt was already a little shocked by Viserys's bold moves. The first time was when he had just joined the Windblown and challenged all the sergeants with his Valyrian steel sword. 'A storm. It's over.'

Then there was the beheading of the pirates. Then came the Dragon's Flame Fortress, when Tyrosh was nearly defeated, and Viserys had managed to turn the tide. Now, he had just accomplished another diplomatic feat.

Hoyt thought he had become immune to surprises when it came to Viserys. Yet, when Viserys finally revealed his plan, Hoyt couldn't help but fall into deep thought. He got up and paced around the room, his mind racing. Suddenly, Hoyt turned, his eyes sharp as a sword piercing the fog.

"Viserys, can you tell me why you are so desperate? Is it just for revenge?"

In truth, Hoyt was starting to doubt himself. 'Could it be that the reason I haven't achieved revenge after thirty years of effort is because I haven't tried hard enough?' he wondered. 'Do I need to take the same risks as this young man to have a chance?'

The plan Viserys shared was audacious: he intended to start a slave uprising in Tyrosh and then join forces with the coalition to seize the city. Such a move was undoubtedly fraught with peril. An ordinary person might have dismissed Viserys's repeated risky behavior as reckless, but Hoyt was a wise old man. His years of experience told him that Viserys's actions might be part of a larger strategy.

Viserys met Hoyt's gaze and could only acknowledge that his old leader was indeed no ordinary man. Yet, he didn't know how to begin explaining, so he simply admitted he couldn't say anything for now. Fortunately, Hoyt didn't press the matter.

Since Viserys had joined the Windblown, the group had made remarkable progress. During Viserys's absence, Hoyt had expanded the company to include an additional battalion, bringing their numbers to 3,000 men. Now, having decided to take another risk, Hoyt resolved to gamble alongside him. He decided to replace the mercenaries currently stationed in Tyrosh with the best men from the entire Windblown. While it might be an exaggeration to say these men could fight ten enemies each, they could certainly take on three times their number. Hoyt even placed Caggo and Dick in Tyrosh.

Meanwhile, Lys was overjoyed at the conclusion of the alliance. Feles was being treated like a hero. The only one displeased was Rovi, whose influence had been halved, and who had almost lost his right to enter the council chamber.

'Since I can't stay in Lys, let's go to Tyrosh!' Rovi thought as he gazed at the lights in the council chamber. He decided to betray Lys's interests in exchange for the prosperity of his house.

Chapter 164: Through Thick and Thin

Time flies, and less than ten days remain before the Alliance is set to deploy its troops. As a key participant in the war, Lys is under immense pressure. They've hastily recruited 20,000 slaves to defend the city, and martial law has been imposed across the entire region. Just a month ago, Lys purchased a new batch of Unsullied. Now, these Unsullied patrol the city streets like tight, unyielding ropes winding around the city.

Tensions are high, and some have begun using insider information to trigger price hikes. Before the war has even started, a small-scale famine has already taken hold. A suffocating atmosphere hangs over Lys, with the sound of weapons being forged in the Arsenal echoing through the night. Recently, a slave, driven to desperation by excessive labor, stabbed his master.

In stark contrast, the city's sex industry has seen an unexpected surge. But amidst this backdrop of tension and turmoil, Tregar and Qaga received shocking news: Rovi had defected. As the officer directly responsible for the Battle of Dragon's Flame Fortress, Rovi knew punishment was inevitable. He fled to Tyrosh, taking his servants and some of his family with him.

In fact, during Viserys's absence, the nobles of Lys had already begun to exclude Rovi, both openly and secretly. Some of his properties had been seized by force. Now, his only hope was to reach Tyrosh and identify Viserys, in the hope of securing a place for himself in the city.

"Lord, Viserys is still in Tyrosh. We have to do something!" Feles urged.

"What can we do? Rovi has been gone for two days! Even if he had wings, no one could catch up with him!" Tregar snapped, frustrated by Feles's plea. He never expected their own ranks would fall apart at such a critical moment. If Tyrosh learns of the alliance's details, it could split the coalition. The Tyroshi, skilled in bribery, would capitalize on the situation without hesitation.

Feles, too, felt helpless. After all, no one could catch up with a ship that had been at sea for two days. Their only hope now was that Rovi's ship might encounter a storm and sink—but the chances of that were slim. For a moment, the leadership in Lys was in despair.

"Wait, there's also that Lady!" Feles suddenly recalled. When he handed over the dragon's blood to Shiera, she had mentioned being able to contact Viserys. From what Viserys had described, this Lady had her own unique strengths, and perhaps they could ask her for help. With this in mind, Feles rushed to Shiera's residence without delay.

However, when Shiera saw him, she remained unusually calm.

"Don't worry, Viserys will take care of it," she assured him.

"You... you already notified him?" Feles stammered.

Shiera smiled but said nothing. She knew that Viserys had consulted the oracle that day. By now, Rovi's defection should have already been addressed.

...

And indeed, Shiera was right. Viserys had already activated Dragon Dreams and seen Rovi's ship in his visions.

"Rovi is coming to Tyrosh? What is this guy up to?" Viserys muttered, his mind racing. He had been away from Lys for nearly two months and had no idea what had transpired in his absence. But now, Rovi—a general from Lys—had chosen to come to Tyrosh just before the decisive battle. This was a clear act of treason. And if so, Viserys would be the first target.

Realizing the danger, Viserys knew he had to act fast. However, with the war looming, Toland had already blocked the surrounding seas. While it might not be impossible to get a ship out of the harbor, most long-distance vessels were beyond Tyrosh's control. And sending a warship to intercept Rovi was out of the question. Kambron would undoubtedly increase surveillance at this critical moment. Even if Viserys could evade suspicion, any attempt to intercept Rovi might expose them all.

With the surrounding seas heavily monitored, even a golden eagle's view of the area wouldn't help. Private ships were grounded, and the best he could do was take a small sampan to intercept Rovi—bringing at most five or six men with him. According to Dragon Dreams, Rovi had at least three ships, manned by Unsullied and sailors numbering no fewer than 500. That left Viserys with one option: infiltrate Rovi's ship and assassinate him.

Sinking the ship wasn't realistic either. The strength required to pull it off, and the time it would take for the ship to actually sink, made this plan a headache to even consider.

"I'm the one making all the plans, decisions, through thick and thin!" Viserys grumbled to himself, but he knew there was no choice. He called on Jorah, Regis, and the others, and they prepared to board a sampan and intercept Rovi.

At dusk, the small sampan carrying six men came to a stop behind a small reef.

"Watch this seagull. When it circles overhead, follow it!" Viserys instructed them.

"My lord, are you going to swim across?" Regis asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"Yes, I have to swim across."

Jorah scratched his head, completely baffled by Viserys's plan. On the way, Viserys had explained what they had accomplished in the month they had disappeared, and Jorah felt like he was listening to a legend. He didn't want to believe it, but Regis was adamant, and the presence of the Unsullied, Conwyra, made disbelief impossible. Considering that this was Viserys's plan, it seemed reasonable enough. But now, intercepting a ship alone? That sounded ridiculous! What Jorah didn't know was that Viserys was targeting not one, but three ships.

"My lord, isn't there a safer way?" Jorah asked, his concern evident.

"Safe? If Rovi reaches Tyrosh, we're all dead! Just keep an eye on that seagull," Viserys replied sharply.

Jorah could only sigh in frustration. He was forced to follow blindly, knowing that if anything went wrong, he might never return to Bear Island. Viserys put on his pack and, without hesitation, jumped into the water with a splash.

Jorah stepped back to avoid the spray, but after a while, there was no sign of Viserys resurfacing. Anxiety grew among the men on the boat.

"Lord! Lord!" they called out anxiously, fearing he had struck a reef upon diving.

'This is too unlucky!' Jorah thought, dread gripping him. 'Was Viserys dead or alive?'

"Look! The Lord is there!" Conwyra exclaimed, pointing to Viserys surfacing in the distance.

"This... is too fast!" Jorah was stunned. In less than two minutes, Viserys had swum nearly 300 meters! Jorah, who had grown up on Bear Island, knew he could never match such a feat. This was beyond human capability.

Meanwhile, aboard Rovi's private fleet, his son Drakor spoke up, "Father, we should reach Tyrosh by tomorrow morning."

After three days at sea, Rovi's tension had begun to ease. Since Lys's forces hadn't caught up, he felt confident they would reach Tyrosh unless they encountered a storm. Yet, as the image of Viserys flashed through his mind, his expression turned bitter.

He could never understand how Viserys had trained that cavalry, which had so decisively interrupted his offensive! If it weren't for him, Rovi wouldn't be in this dire situation. Anger surged as he recalled those who had driven him out of the temple. Not only had they seized many of his properties under the guise of tax inspections, but even those who had once been respectful and obedient had begun to speak ill of him.

Fortunately, Feles had informed him that Viserys was in Tyrosh. If he couldn't defeat Viserys on the battlefield, he would find another way to bring him down!

Rovi looked ahead and said to his son, "Go back to your ship and tell the Unsullied to stay vigilant."

"Understood," his son replied.

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting its golden rays on the sea, which reflected back onto Rovi's face. Lys would never suspect that he had left a double behind to cover his escape. The thought filled him with pride. After standing there for a moment, he returned to his cabin, his mind racing with plans. If he could break up the alliance Viserys had formed and then return to Lys as a guide, he might regain everything he had lost.

So close. But at that moment, a shadow was slicing through the waves, heading straight for his ship.

After swimming for nearly two hours, Viserys spotted Rovi's fleet in the distance—three dark silhouettes approaching. The night had fully settled in, giving him cover as he neared the ships. To conserve his strength, he chose to wait with only his head above water, watching as the three ships loomed closer like massive walls. He reached out and touched the slimy hull, feeling the seaweed and oysters clinging to it.

Viserys pulled out a jar of wildfire grease he had prepared, carefully adjusted the angle, and hurled it with all his strength, sticking it to the highest, driest part of the hull. He repeated this with the other two ships. As he stared at the grease-covered hull, he muttered a spell under his breath. Instantly, the grease ignited, and a bright yellow-green flame sprang to life on the dark hull.

The flames grew larger under his control, spreading like a luminous silk shroud over the ships. These vessels, though treated with fire-resistant materials, were no match for wildfire. In fact, Stannis's defeat at the Battle of the Blackwater Rush had been due to the ferocity of wildfire, which even his men hadn't anticipated.

Soon, the yellow-green flames engulfed the hulls of all three ships, catching the attention of some Unsullied on patrol.

"Fire!" Viserys faintly heard the cries from aboard.

One of the Unsullied stared in horror as the flames shot up from the hull, twisting into the shape of a giant python that coiled around the sail. The fire snake transformed into a blazing inferno, spreading rapidly across the ships. In no time, the three vessels had become floating braziers, burning fiercely.

Rovi, still asleep, was jolted awake by the commotion. He pushed the slave girl beside him aside and opened the door, only to be hit by a wave of searing heat.

'What's going on? Am I not at sea? How can there be a fire?' Rovi looked up and saw the yellow-green flames consuming the sail.

"Wildfire!" The realization hit him like a blow. His first thought was of sabotage, but he quickly dismissed it. If someone had set fire to the ship, wouldn't they die as well? Was someone trying to kill him in a desperate attempt to take him down with them?

"Father—ahh!" Rovi heard his son, Drakor, scream. He turned just in time to see Drakor engulfed in flames, a human torch, before he jumped overboard.

"No!" Rovi cried out in despair, knowing that jumping into the open sea was a death sentence.

"Watch out, my lord!" An Unsullied guard rushed to Rovi's side, pulling him back just as the mast came crashing down.

"How could this happen? How could this be?" Rovi felt as though he were in a nightmare, watching the wildfire reach the ship's alcohol stores, triggering a massive explosion. Unsullied and sailors alike jumped overboard, preferring the uncertain fate of the sea to the certain death of staying aboard the burning ships.

The fire was so intense that Jorah and his men didn't even need to follow the seagulls to find their target. Meanwhile, Viserys hid in the darkness, ensuring that no one could escape, killing anyone who tried to grab onto floating debris. The ships burned for half the night, and by morning, only charred wreckage remained.

The next morning, Rovi groggily opened his eyes and found himself lying in a small boat, an Unsullied by his side. Realizing he must have been rescued, he asked with his eyes still closed, "What happened to our ship?"

"It burned down," Conwyra replied.

"What about the others?" Rovi inquired.

"They're all dead," Conwyra said.

Rovi paused, trying to muster the tears but failing. "It's okay. My own son is dead, but I still have my bastard. As long as we reach Tyrosh, it'll all be worth it."

"Keep going! We're heading to Tyrosh!" Rovi ordered.

"You're not going," Conwyra said firmly.

Chapter 165: How Am I Supposed to Take It If You Won’t?

"You're not going."

Rovi suddenly opened his eyes, startled by a familiar voice. He couldn't quite place the name, but it tugged at his memory. Struggling to sit up, he looked toward the source of the voice.

"Viserys! How can it be you?" Rovi's face twisted in shock.

"I'm asking you—what's the situation in Lys right now?" Viserys's tone was calm but commanding.

"How can you be here!" Rovi stammered, as if he hadn't heard the question.

"Answer me," Viserys insisted.

"This is impossible! You're not Viserys! You're not—" Rovi's words devolved into incoherent muttering, his eyes unfocused and vacant, as if his mind had fractured under the pressure.

"He's lost his mind, my lord," Jorah observed.

"It seems we won't get anything useful from him," Viserys remarked, his tone resigned. "Take the ring from his finger and toss him overboard."

"Yes, my lord," Jorah replied. He pushed Rovi's limp body to the edge of the sampan and efficiently slit his throat.

"You're quite skilled," Viserys commented.

"Oh, this way the blood doesn't get everywhere," Jorah responded with a grim smile. As he prepared to push Rovi into the sea, he suddenly felt something hard and lumpy in the dead man's clothing.

"My lord, there's something in his clothes."

"Cut it open," Viserys ordered.

Jorah pulled Rovi back up and sliced open his clothing, revealing a cascade of colorful gems spilling out onto the deck.

"Look at that! We've hit a bonus. Count them," Viserys instructed.

"With pleasure!" Jorah exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he rummaged through Rovi's garments. In total, he found 76 pigeon egg-sized gems of various colors, each one impeccably cut and gleaming with quality.

"My lord! These gems are worth at least 300,000 gold dragons!" Jorah said, his voice filled with awe.

Three hundred thousand gold dragons—likely all the wealth Rovi had taken with him in his flight—was a fortune equivalent to the annual tax revenue of a Free City.

"One for each of you. The rest can be put away," Viserys said.

"Thank you, my lord!" Regis replied joyfully, picking a yellow gem and admiring it.

"No, my lord. What you've already given us is more than generous," Jorah declined politely, which left Regis feeling slightly embarrassed.

Regis's hand, still holding the gemstone, hung in the air. He realized he had done almost nothing on this mission and felt it was unreasonable to accept such a reward. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful toward Jorah. 'That could have been handled privately,' he thought, feeling the awkwardness of the situation.

"That's enough. Just do your job well in the future. It's only a gemstone," Viserys said, dismissing the tension.

"Thank you, my lord," Conwyra said softly, selecting a blue gem and tucking it carefully into his pocket. Though Viserys had freed him, he still regarded him as the best master he could ever serve.

They were all pleased—receiving a reward worth a thousand gold dragons for almost no effort at all.

...

Meanwhile, back in Lys, Rovi's defection had forced the city to accelerate the construction of fortifications and the production of weapons. But a dark cloud hung over everyone's heads.

Qaga was deep in discussion with the alchemist's guild, trying to secure more wildfire, when he suddenly heard Tregar's voice echo through the hall.

"A letter! A letter from Viserys!" Qaga exclaimed as he looked up to see Tregar and Feles entering his alchemy workshop. Feles was in a daze, his eyes fixed on the seagull that had delivered the message. He was especially puzzled by the ring on the bird's leg, but there was no mistaking it—this was a letter from Viserys.

After reading it, Feles felt a wave of relief, though the content left him uneasy. Without hesitation, he handed the letter to Tregar and the others. Tregar, though initially hesitant after reading it, decided to bring it to Qaga.

The letter contained good news, but Viserys's tone was anything but gentle. He berated them for their incompetence, particularly for failing to keep track of Rovi. The most polite thing he wrote was that their brains were "full of shit."

Despite their initial indignation, they quickly set aside their pride and began to contemplate the situation. Questions flooded their minds: How did Viserys learn of Rovi's defection? How did he stop him? Was Rovi dead or alive?

This incident only served to prove one thing—Viserys's sources of information and his methods were far beyond their comprehension.

Previously, Qaga and Tregar had harbored some doubts. If they won, could they escape the permanent contract? Could they reduce their commitment from 3,000 men? But now, they realized that keeping their 3,000 troops loyal to Viserys might be the safest course of action. Even Tregar began to reconsider, thinking it might be wiser to return Lynesse to Jorah.

Only Feles, who had successfully allied with Viserys, felt nothing but satisfaction. The revival of House Rogare was within reach, and he had wisely aligned himself with the right person.

In light of recent events, Viserys requested that they appoint a suitable commander. Feles, who had just secured his alliance with Viserys, was the obvious choice. His decision to stay loyal was proving more beneficial by the day.

...

After returning to Tyrosh, Viserys focused on improving the conditions for the slaves in his mines. The poor nutrition had left them weak and malnourished, but if they were to play a key role in the upcoming uprising, they needed to be strong.

"I'll tell you what, boy, you're lucky to be here," a skinny miner with bloodshot eyes whispered to the brown-haired boy beside him. "The master is generous—gives everyone a bowl of egg soup with every meal!"

"Egg soup?!" the boy, called Milen, repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, with plenty of oil, too!" the older miner confirmed, slurping at the thought.

Milen, only fifteen, could hardly believe it. He had been a slave for as long as he could remember, and generosity was something he had never experienced from any master.

"Hey, hey, it's time to eat!" The call to eat sent the miners scrambling out of the mine, their picks and shovels abandoned. They moved like a herd of black and gray oxen, rushing to get in line. But once in line, they stopped pushing and shoving, disciplined by long years of harsh training.

The aroma of the food wafted through the air, rich with the scent of fat. "Wait, today is 'reward day.' Tonight, the master will give each of us an egg!"

"An egg each?! We can eat eggs here?!" Milen asked, still incredulous.

But when it was his turn to receive his meal, the sight of the thick, gooey egg soup with oil floating on top made his stomach growl with hunger.

"The master is here!" someone suddenly shouted just as everyone was finishing their bowls, drawing the attention of the entire crowd.

Chapter 166: Nobody Enjoys Eating Dry Food

Since taking over the mine, Viserys had made occasional visits to ensure the slaves knew who he was. After all, he would be leading them into battle one day. In the past, he would say a few words from a distance before leaving, but today, he decided the time was right to get up close and personal.

The slaves all knew their master was a silver-haired boy with an almost divine appearance.

"It's our master!"

"Master!"

"Master! It's the master!"

"Master, thank you for your kindness!"

Viserys walked among the slaves with Jorah by his side, nodding to those who greeted him. Some slaves from other mines looked at Viserys with curiosity, taking in his presence. Before long, a few slaves spontaneously knelt on the ground, extending their hands for him to walk on.

Puzzled, Viserys turned to Jorah. "Lord, they are expressing their gratitude by offering you their hands to tread upon," Jorah explained.

As Viserys looked at their rough, callused hands, a complex emotion stirred within him. He recalled a moment from his previous life as a mercenary, when a villager had begged him for a single tablet of fever medicine for his ailing mother. In gratitude, the villager had offered to work for him. This reminded Viserys of how Daenerys, with nothing more than hot water and a simple soup, had earned the title of "Young Mother" from the slaves.

It wasn't surprising that Daenerys had been able to establish a foothold in Slaver's Bay with just three young dragons and fewer than 20,000 Unsullied.

These slaves were in an even more desperate situation than that villager. They had nothing—no property, no rights. But despite his pity, Viserys knew he couldn't start an immediate revolt and grant them freedom like Daenerys had. It would have to be a gradual process. If these uprisings succeeded, he would grant freedom to those who followed him. For the others, he might secure some preferential treatment, but nothing more. He was aware that a sudden upheaval could cause panic in the surrounding Free Cities, resulting in more losses than gains.

"Take your hands off the ground. I have something to say," Viserys commanded.

The slaves quickly withdrew their hands and looked up at him, ready to listen.

Viserys had learned a thing or two from the speeches of third-rate country leaders. His message was straightforward: work hard for him, and within three years, they could earn their redemption; within five, they could turn their lives around.

He also pointed out a path to "social advancement" for them. Viserys promised to select the best among the slaves to join his personal mercenary army. While working in the mines was grueling and becoming a mercenary was dangerous, the latter offered a path to freedom. A life spent toiling in the dark mines until death was inevitable, but the chance to fight for one's freedom was a glimmer of hope. The choice between the two was clear.

Viserys's plan was to select soldiers from among the slaves and gradually train them into a "new army." Slaves, with their obedience and large numbers, made an ideal source for recruitment. For instance, in the copper mine alone, he estimated that out of the 30,000 slaves, at least 5,000 could be transformed into a disciplined and effective force.

However, it was still too early to focus on that. For now, his priority was to motivate these slaves to join him in a rebellion when the time came.

Although the idea was promising, Viserys understood that most slaves were still preoccupied with whether they could secure an extra bowl of food. The long years of servitude had numbed them to the point where survival was their only concern. He realized that the key issue was the absence of a 'model' slave—someone who could inspire others by rising above their station. Slaves had their own form of wisdom; for them, doing as little as possible while eating as well as they could was often the most practical approach.

Yet, his efforts were not entirely in vain. The eyes of some younger slaves, especially those under twenty, still glimmered with excitement.

Take the newcomer, Milen, for example—he would much rather fight people outside than pound rocks in the mine. Some of the slaves had already decided in secret that they would seize any opportunity to escape their lives of darkness and deprivation.

...

At the Tyrosh Palace, in the Wine Garden, the Tyroshi, known for their flamboyant tastes, continued their love of bright colors even in their gardening.

"I heard Viserys is in Tyrosh. What's he up to these days?" Kambron asked.

"He bought a mine in the east. Seems like he's looking to invest in property," Toland replied. He had become even more self-assured after his victory at Dragon's Flame Fortress. His newfound confidence was reflected in his appearance—his 'hairdresser' had recently introduced a gradient hair dye, making him the envy of others as the first to use it. The admiration for his hairstyle had extended to his personality and abilities, and now he regarded the world's heroes with disdain.

Toland sneered at Viserys and the old captain's actions. "If we'd known the Windblown were all so short-sighted, we wouldn't have bothered hiring them."

It wasn't uncommon for mercenary groups to have a "sideline," often involving the sale of slaves. But Kambron was a man of extreme caution. In the original account, he had meticulously prepared for the war with Lys, even going so far as to leave his youngest daughter in Sunspear for safekeeping. To gain the favor of Pentos, he had appeared at the Mother of Dragons' wedding. Of course, his ambitions likely extended beyond Pentos, perhaps even to the Dothraki.

"Still, caution is never wasted," Kambron said seriously. "By the way, I've heard that Viserys's sister has set up some sort of relief station to treat slaves?"

"Yes, that's true," Toland replied. "The siblings grew up in Braavos, where slavery is forbidden, so Viserys probably just wanted to give his sister something to do. But she's got quite the temper. She dealt with a troublemaker not long ago."

Kambron frowned, sensing that things might not be as simple as they appeared. But he was still skeptical that a group of slaves could pose any real threat. With war imminent, his focus remained on military preparations rather than what he saw as trivial matters.

"How is our fleet coming along?" Kambron asked, steering the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"Rest assured, in a month or so, we'll be ready to attack Lys," Toland replied confidently.

"Be careful," Kambron cautioned, stroking his green beard thoughtfully. "The long-term prosperity of our houses depends on this."

Chapter 167: Jon Connington’s Discovery

In Illyrio's mansion, he sat with Jon Connington, deep in discussion, plotting their next move.

"Should we kill him?" Jon Connington asked.

About half a month earlier, Jon Connington had heard from Illyrio about Viserys falling into a strange trance. At first, he dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful tale, the sort of story a minstrel might concoct. But when he arrived in Pentos and saw the war preparations firsthand, and received confirmation from Illyrio, he began to accept that these were indeed the actions of a seventeen-year-old boy.

When Illyrio suggested eliminating Viserys, a flash of murderous intent crossed Jon Connington's eyes. As he considered it further, he couldn't help but reflect on the story of "Young Aegon" that Varys and Illyrio had spun. The more he thought about it, the more the tale seemed riddled with inconsistencies.

First of all, how could Varys have conveniently found a child in King's Landing—or anywhere in Westeros—with silver hair and purple eyes to serve as a stand-in? And even if he did, why hadn't he sent the "real" Aegon to Dragonstone with Viserys and Daenerys? The only explanation that made sense was that Varys had somehow foreseen the Storm on Dragonstone, which had destroyed the last of the Targaryen fleet.

Moreover, after digging deeper, Jon Connington uncovered something astonishing: Illyrio's late wife, Serra, had also possessed silver hair and purple eyes.

Despite these revelations, Jon Connington wasn't entirely convinced by Viserys's claims. But Illyrio's eagerness to kill Viserys made him wary—'What was Illyrio really up to?'

"Didn't you say the dragon has three heads? Why the rush to kill Viserys?" Jon Connington asked, his tone probing.

Illyrio paused, his burnt cheeks twitching slightly, before quickly offering an excuse. "You know, that's just a prophecy. Our priority now is to place Prince Rhaegar's bloodline on the Iron Throne!"

Jon Connington didn't buy it. 'You didn't say that before,' he thought, but kept the suspicion to himself. The more he observed, the more convinced he became that Illyrio was hiding something. However, he knew that pressing Illyrio too hard would only raise suspicions.

There was also the fact that Viserys hadn't exposed Illyrio's schemes, which suggested that Illyrio still had value, and Jon Connington couldn't afford to act rashly.

"Can you arrange for me to join Pentos's army?" Jon Connington asked. "I want to see Viserys again. If necessary, I can disable him—ensure that even if he's strong, he won't be a threat to Young Aegon's claim."

Illyrio's eyes lit up at the idea. Crippling Viserys instead of killing him offered multiple advantages. Not only could he repay Viserys for saving him from the fire that day, but it would also keep Robert's attention focused elsewhere. It was the perfect solution.

Getting Jon Connington into the army would be easy enough.

"Fine! We'll do it your way! I'd prefer to make him sterile!" Illyrio said with a twisted cheerfulness, causing the bandages on his neck to ooze with pus.

...

Dorne

Sunspear, Throne Hall.

Doran Martell had just assigned several of his advisers to a crucial mission. They would serve under the command of the Red Viper, tasked with blocking the sea west of the Stepstones. Once his advisers had departed, Arianne and her cousins sprang out from behind the throne. Arianne knelt at Doran's feet, looking up at him with her dark eyes.

"Father, let me go with Uncle Oberyn on this mission," she pleaded.

Since learning of her father's decision, the tension between Arianne and Doran had eased, and she had begun to warm to him again. Doran, who had always been a mild-mannered man, had grown even more so after losing his gout. He knew exactly what his daughter was thinking. Despite Viserys having rejected the proposed marriage alliance, his undeniable talent had made him an attractive prospect to many.

Doran glanced at the Red Viper beside him, and the two shared a knowing smile. He gently touched his daughter's head.

"Go, but be careful. Listen to your uncle and don't act on your own!"

"Don't worry, Father!" Arianne stood up and kissed Doran on the cheek.

Seeing Arianne's success, Tyene and Sarella, the little black girl, also looked at Oberyn with hopeful eyes.

"This time, I'm only taking Obara and Nymeria. You two will stay here and keep your uncle company," Oberyn declared.

"What? Father, we want to go too," Tyene protested.

When Oberyn remained firm, Doran intervened. "Let them go, brother. The daughters of House Martell shouldn't be confined to the castle."

"But—" Oberyn began to argue, but Doran cut him off.

After the three girls left the hall, brimming with excitement, Oberyn turned to Doran. "It seems you're confident in this battle. Do you really think Viserys can succeed?"

Doran shook his head slowly. "On the contrary, I don't think he can win. That's why I'm letting them go with you."

Oberyn frowned. "Why?"

Doran stood and began to pace, speaking as he moved. "I don't believe Tyrosh will be easily taken. At most, this conflict will end with negotiations—compensation and promises. There won't be a bloody battle, no landings or sieges."

"Why not?" Oberyn asked, curiosity piqued.

"Viserys is undoubtedly a clever man," Doran replied, pausing to meet Oberyn's gaze. "But he's overlooked one critical issue. He's formed a loose alliance, one in which no one is truly committed."

Doran's insight was clear. While Tyrosh's control of the Stepstones threatened the interests of many, those interests weren't strong enough to compel the involved parties to send troops. For example, Pentos and Myr were more interested in speculating on the outcome than risking anything significant. When speculation is the game, no one is willing to take on high costs or risks.

"This won't be a bloodbath," Doran continued. "The only party likely to make a serious effort in this battle is Lys."

Doran's explanation was thorough, but it left the Red Viper with a new doubt.

"Why didn't you mention this earlier? Perhaps Viserys could have been more cautious," Oberyn questioned.

Doran smiled. "Because he was too confident."

Oberyn found this even harder to understand. "But isn't that dangerous? He's so certain he can build a force as powerful as Dorne across the Narrow Sea. That kind of overconfidence could lead to disaster."

Doran nodded. "Exactly. That's why it's not a bad thing for him to take a few hits and learn a lesson. Overconfidence is dangerous, and a reality check might be just what he needs."

While Doran was grateful to Viserys for saving him from the torture of gout, the interests of House Martell always came first. Oberyn couldn't help but admire his brother's foresight. He now saw that Viserys's overconfidence could indeed be his downfall.

Bittersteel had spent his entire life in the Free Cities, and the most he had achieved was establishing a mercenary company. He had died without even a grave to mark his efforts. To the seasoned nobles of Westeros, such ambition, gilded as it might be, was little more than a tragic folly.

Doran knew that only by making Viserys confront the harsh realities of building power from nothing would he truly understand the difficulty of his ambition. This would, in turn, make him more likely to offer substantial benefits in any alliance with House Martell—perhaps even agreeing to marry Arianne.

Chapter 168: Make Tyrosh Great Again

Kambron had chosen the perfect day. Under a clear blue sky, white seagulls occasionally soared overhead as Tyrosh's warships, fully loaded and ready, prepared to set sail for Lys. Nearly all the nobles were in attendance, confident in the belief that this campaign would be a decisive victory.

For them, defeating Lys meant monopolizing the Stepstones, allowing them to charge whatever tolls they desired and seize any appealing targets as slaves. Some nobles even fantasized about capturing a member of the royal family, much like House Rogare of Lys had done when they captured Viserys II and married one of their daughters to him, elevating their house's status dramatically.

Ordinary merchants and commoners didn't harbor such grand ambitions, but they looked forward to a more comfortable life in the wake of the war. The only ones indifferent to all this were the slaves. Despite being the most numerous, they were also the most overlooked and replaceable, enduring harsher treatment from their masters who would strike, scold, or injure them with impunity. Unlike the enthusiastic nobles and free people, the slaves wore expressions of numb resignation.

Soon, Archon Kambron appeared, flanked by a group of Unsullied and attendants, causing a stir among the crowd. He arrived in a procession of immaculately dressed men and women, accompanied by servants, and made his way to a wooden platform draped in a red carpet, prepared for the occasion.

On the platform stood a golden bronze statue of the Three-Headed God—though it was, of course, a replica. Kambron was about to deliver his "marching speech" before the statue. Behind him stood the captains and officers, with General Toland closest to his side.

"People of Tyrosh, in the presence of the Three, allow me to say with pride: We are going to do it! The war between Tyrosh and Lys has lasted for a hundred years, but today, at this very moment, this unhappy relationship is coming to an end..."

Viserys, watching from a distance, scoffed. "Yes, just like that," he muttered, recalling how, in his previous life as a sellsword, the warlords of third-rate countries would deliver similarly grandiose speeches before starting a war—except Kambron was far more dramatic.

"The history of Lys will end at this moment! Let Tyrosh be great again!"

'Gods, that stinks even worse,' Viserys thought, but the people of Tyrosh seemed to love it. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Let Tyrosh be great again!"

"Let Tyrosh be great again!"

"Let Tyrosh be great again!"

As the fervor reached its peak and Kambron was about to give the order to set sail, a black-haired messenger approached him from behind the stage. With just a single sentence, Kambron's expression shifted. Then a second messenger arrived, followed by a third...

"What's going on? Why hasn't the order to set sail been given?"

"What's happening on stage? I see two or three messengers arriving at once."

"Is something wrong?"

The crowd buzzed with speculation as Kambron and his entourage abruptly left the platform. Confusion spread, not only among the civilians standing in the distance but also among the officers and captains stationed nearby, who exchanged uncertain glances.

"Everyone, I speak to you with anger—Tyrosh has suffered a shameful betrayal!"

"What—?"

"What's going on?"

"What does this mean?"

The mood of triumph and anticipation quickly turned to confusion and alarm as Kambron's declaration reverberated through the crowd. What was intended to be a rallying call for invasion had now transformed into a desperate call for city defense. Kambron demanded that every citizen take up arms to defend their homes.

A campaign of conquest had suddenly become a battle for survival.

As the instigator of all this, Viserys knew exactly why. The alliance had struck—right on schedule. The Myr-Pentos fleet had blockaded the northern seas of Tyrosh, while the Sunspear fleet had sealed off the western waters. To the south, Lys faced Tyrosh head-on.

From the vantage point of the Golden Eagle, Viserys had seen it all unfold. He knew the time was ripe for a slave uprising.

At this very moment, the slaves were laboring in the mines, working harder than ever. Word had spread that their master would reward them today with a rare treat: a generous portion of meat—half a catty for each slave. Although they hadn't yet seen the meat, they could already catch its tantalizing aroma.

"Can you smell it, boy? Our master keeps his word!" one of the older slaves remarked.

Gulping down his excitement, Milen nodded vigorously. "Yes, I can smell it. I've only ever eaten scraps thrown to me by my master. I've never had real meat."

The human instinct to crave protein was undeniable. The rich, mouthwatering scent of meat had the slaves nearly fainting with anticipation. News of the reward had spread beyond the mine, drawing in slaves from neighboring pits. The crowd had swelled by more than 30%, with eager newcomers pushing in to claim their share.

They worked with renewed vigor—not just out of guilt for eating Viserys's meat for free, but also because the original slaves from the mine were closely watching them. Some had considered reporting the influx to the Unsullied overseers, worried that there wouldn't be enough meat to go around. But the Unsullied seemed unconcerned, simply telling everyone to work hard.

"It's time to eat!"

At the sound of the familiar drumbeat, the slave miners rushed out of the tunnels, their copper-streaked faces shining with sweat.

"Hey, hey, what's the rush?"

"Step back!"

"Don't push me!"

The line was especially crowded today, with everyone unconsciously pressing forward, necks craning like bean sprouts to catch a glimpse of the food. When they finally saw the fist-sized, oily chunks of meat before them, their mouths watered uncontrollably.

They bit into the meat, savoring the texture as it melted between their lips and teeth, thinking this must be what heaven was like.

Some of the younger slaves devoured their portions immediately, while older ones clung to their pieces, savoring them slowly. They didn't chew or swallow right away but instead sucked the meat and its juices until it became dry and shriveled. Just as they were about to hide their leftovers for later, the voice of the Unsullied rang out.

"Eat it! Don't hide it!"

Though they didn't understand why, the slaves who had planned to save the meat for later were forced to comply, hastily finishing their portions under the watchful eyes of the Unsullied overseers.

Chapter 169: Well Played

As the sun set, the sky deepened into a blood-red crimson. The major ports of Tyrosh were under martial law, and the Blood Tower, once used for transferring slaves, had been fortified into a stronghold. Overhead, Viserys's great eagle circled the seas around Tyrosh, surveying the scene below.

In the northern part of the Stepstones, nearly 300 warships from Pentos and Myr patrolled the waters. The warships of Pentos were particularly distinctive—not for their numbers, but for their unique sails. Unlike the typical monochrome designs, the sails of Pentos's ships were divided: blue on the upper half, symbolizing the sea, and yellow on the lower half, representing the land. This design reflected the symbolism of the Prince of Pentos, who had two wives representing the sea and the land. Every New Year's Day, he deflowered two virgins in a ritual meant to symbolize the opening of the land and the exploration of the sea—a tradition that Viserys found disturbingly devilish.

As Viserys observed the Pentosian soldiers on the sailboats, he noticed their lack of fighting spirit. He recalled that Illyrio had once explained how the nobles of Pentos used debt as a means of controlling their army. These soldiers were not fighting out of loyalty or patriotism—they were simply paying off their debts. During their service, their debts continued to accumulate. It was no surprise that Pentos had the weakest military of the nine Free Cities. While other cities at least fed and rewarded their soldiers, these men faced a bleak future: no rewards if they won, and punishment if they lost. It was little wonder they were so ineffective.

As Viserys continued his watch, he spotted two familiar faces—Dotnere and Lightnere, the brothers who had traveled with him to Myr—on the flagship of the Pentos fleet. He suspected that they were there not just to reap the spoils of war, but more likely to gain prestige and solidify their position in Pentos.

Suddenly, something else caught his eye: a familiar golden eagle perched on the flagship. It was Connington's. This unexpected sight made Viserys pause, puzzled by why he was present.

At this point, Illyrio didn't believe he had been "exposed," so he saw no need to go to extreme lengths to kill Viserys. Perhaps he had other plans in mind, and for now, it was a matter of waiting to see how things unfolded.

Viserys continued his observations. The fleet closest to Pentos belonged to Myr, its white-sailed warships numbering about twice as many as those of Pentos. Myr was no small power; it was one of the most formidable of the Free Cities. Steering the Golden Eagle westward, Viserys soon spotted the fleet from Sunspear.

In terms of sheer numbers, Sunspear had mobilized nearly 400 warships. Their distinctive yellow hulls and the spear-piercing-the-sun emblem on the sails were both bold and imposing. The fleet also included ships from other noble houses, each bearing their own crests—some with a green serpent, others with a large red rooster.

'Sunspear is indeed powerful,' Viserys mused. 'It seems they've sent an army of nearly 10,000.' But despite their strength, Viserys didn't expect Sunspear to shed much blood in this conflict. If Tyrosh was to be taken, it would largely be his doing. Westeros might not have the wealth of the Free Cities, but its strict feudal system allowed it to mobilize far greater military forces.

As he continued to observe, Viserys quickly spotted the Red Viper on the flagship, standing on the deck and speaking with nobles of various ranks. Behind him were a few short "soldiers"—undoubtedly Arianne and her companions.

"We'll launch the first attack in the evening," Oberyn announced. "But we'll only send 3,000 men ashore and withdraw before we lose more than 10% of our forces."

The Dornish nobles didn't fully understand the reasoning behind such an arrangement, but it was their duty to obey their lord. Avoiding a full-scale battle with Tyrosh was certainly welcome news for most. Of course, some of the more astute nobles likely guessed the true purpose, but no one questioned the orders.

Watching the Red Viper's careful planning, Viserys couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness. This alliance, which appeared so threatening, was really just a bluff. Once challenged, it would crumble. But Viserys had never expected them to succeed on their own; his goal was simply to create external pressure on Tyrosh.

The real victory would come from within, with the uprising he was about to ignite. At the moment, the greatest force holding Tyrosh in check was Lys. In other words, Tyrosh was at its most vulnerable, and tonight would be the perfect time to decide the outcome. If they could seize the palace, they could seize Tyrosh itself.

Returning to the mine, Viserys decided to inspect the equipment he had prepared in advance—such as the battering ram for breaching the palace gate and the wildfire for launching fire attacks. However, it was clear that Kambron was also aware that tonight posed the greatest danger to Tyrosh. If he could survive the night, there would be room for negotiation.

As Viserys arrived at the mine, he was greeted by the sight of a bureaucrat in a red robe, his beard and hair dyed purple. The man was flamboyant and somewhat ostentatious, but he bowed with respect as Viserys approached.

"Lord Viserys," the bureaucrat greeted, bowing slightly. As a government official in Tyrosh, he was well aware of Viserys's reputation and knew that this particular mine was controlled by the Windblown. However, being within Tyrosh's borders, it was still subject to the Archon's authority.

"What brings you here, my lord?" Viserys asked.

"Well, Tyrosh is currently caught in a conspiracy, and I've been ordered by the Archon to requisition half of the slaves from this mine to defend the city."

Compensation? In times of peace, slaves were treated as beasts of burden; in times of war, as cannon fodder.

"What are the Archon's terms of compensation?" Viserys inquired, his tone sharp.

The bureaucrat gave a dismissive chuckle. "You must be joking, Lord Viserys. If Tyrosh falls, there will be no compensation."

"And weapons?" Viserys sneered.

"Don't they have pickaxes?"

Viserys stared at him for a moment before replying, "Fine. When do they need to report?"

"Listen for the bells. If they haven't assembled after five rings, they'll be charged with treason," the red-robed official warned.

"Understood."

The purple-haired bureaucrat hadn't expected the conversation to go so smoothly. He had assumed that Viserys would be a more difficult character to handle. As he left, he cast a contemptuous glance over the mine, clearly unimpressed.

Similar scenes were unfolding in other mines around Tyrosh. However, unlike Viserys, the slave owners in those places responded to the tension with brutal crackdowns. Even minor infractions that might have been overlooked on a normal day were now met with severe punishment. In many cases, slaves were beaten for no reason at all, simply as a warning to the others.

Not long after the recruitment officer departed, several slaves were publicly hanged as a grim example. Those who had tried to steal food from Viserys's mine were singled out for especially harsh beatings.

Soon, word spread among the slaves about their impending fate on the battlefield.

"Milen, we're going to the battlefield tomorrow. Are you scared?" Old York asked, his voice steady.

"A little," the young slave admitted, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Listen to me," the old man said, his tone firm. "When you go to war, you can't afford to be afraid. The more fear you show, the quicker you'll die. Just stick close to me."

It was obvious that Old York had seen battle before—likely more than once. His words were not just advice, but a survival strategy born from hard-earned experience.

"Okay... okay, Uncle York," Milen replied, though his voice trembled with nerves. Despite his words, the fear was evident in his eyes.

Another slave, his flaxen hair dull and lifeless, chimed in, "What are you so afraid of? We ate such a big piece of meat today, it's almost worth dying for. It's just a shame the Unsullied made us eat all of it right away. Would've been nice to save a bit for later."

He clenched his teeth, savoring the memory of the meat's taste.

"Right! We've had our meat, might as well die now," another slave agreed, and soon more voices joined in.

"Hey, what's this about eating meat? You still got some?"

"I hid it in my teeth, heh..."

The night had fallen, and the mine was illuminated by the flickering light of braziers. Viserys had gathered all the slaves together—more than 1,200 in total. Among them were over 200 elite Windblown soldiers that Hoyt had discreetly stationed there over a month ago. Though they wore ragged robes like the other slaves, underneath they were clad in fine iron armor.

The slaves, unaware of the full scope of Viserys's plan, knew only that they were about to be sent to the battlefield. They had no idea why they had been summoned in the middle of the night. The whispers in the crowd grew until someone spotted Viserys's silver hair and hushed those around them.

Viserys stood before them, looking down at the gathering of dark, thin, and weary souls who were like straw in the wind. His voice rang out clearly:

"I have some bad news for you. Tomorrow you will go to war, and you will not return."

A stunned silence fell over the slaves. They couldn't comprehend why Viserys would tell them this. Even Jorah, who knew Viserys's plan, was taken aback. It seemed insane—if the goal was to inspire the slaves to fight, shouldn't he be trying to boost their morale? But with Viserys standing firm beside him, Jorah held his tongue and continued to observe.

"You may not realize it," Viserys continued, "but outside Tyrosh, there are armies from Lys, Myr, Pentos, and even Sunspear! They are heavily armed, in full armor, and their numbers are so vast that their ships darken the sea! So, I must tell you the unfortunate truth: everyone will die—including me!"

The slaves were silent, their fear palpable. Even Old York was too stunned to notice Milen's anxious gaze. Life as a slave had always been hard, but the thought of certain death brought a new level of terror.

At that moment, a tall, scarred slave rose to his feet and declared, "Lord, I'm not afraid. I can protect you!" He turned to the others and added, "We all ate meat today—so let's make it count!"

Chapter 170: Dany’s Speech

The tall "slave" who spoke up was none other than Caggo. His words quickly sparked a response from the others.

"Yes! We've eaten the meat, so there's nothing to regret!"

"Protect the master!"

"Protect the master!"

The slaves began shouting, as if they had found a purpose. Yet, to anyone listening closely, it was clear they were trying to muster their own courage.

Planting Caggo among the slaves was a tactic Viserys had borrowed from warlords—an effective method for rousing a crowd. It's said that a certain historical figure, notorious for his oratory, also used to place supporters in his audiences to guide the mood. So far, it seemed to be working.

At that moment, the low, rapid tolling of a bell echoed from the direction of the palace, drawing the attention of nearly half the crowd. However, most still focused on Viserys. He raised his hand, signaling for silence.

"Everyone, I understand how you feel, but we can't possibly stand against a hundred thousand heavily armed soldiers. You should leave, run for your lives!"

"Run for our lives?"

"Leave?"

"Go where?"

Confusion spread through the ranks. The slaves had no idea where they could run to. With hundreds of thousands of soldiers surrounding them and less than 300,000 people in all of Tyrosh, escape seemed impossible. The city walls and the sea trapped them in every direction.

At that moment, another voice rose from the crowd—a medium-sized black "slave" called out: "Lord, we have nowhere to go. Please, lead us to safety! I heard you're the champion of the tournament, the strongest warrior in the world. With you leading us, we will survive!"

This "slave," like Caggo, was planted by Viserys. His words, delivered with confidence, sparked hope among the others.

"Champion? Tournament champion? What does that mean?"

"It means he's the best fighter, the most powerful warrior!"

Some of the more knowledgeable slaves explained to their less-informed companions. Though these claims were exaggerated and full of holes, what the slaves needed now wasn't logic—it was hope.

"Master! Lead us to safety!"

"Master, take us with you!"

"Master, we're not going anywhere without you!"

The slaves, who had been directionless just moments before, now showed a fierce determination. Their faces, illuminated by the orange glow of the braziers, revealed a primal excitement—the thrill of impending bloodshed, born from the deepest, most instinctual part of their beings.

Another blast of the horn rang out, but this time, few shifted their gaze from Viserys. Jorah, standing behind him, felt a shiver run down his spine as he witnessed the scene before him. Although he had known Viserys's plan in advance, seeing the raw intensity of the mobilization shocked him to his core. He hadn't expected it to be this powerful.

Jorah realized that Viserys was truly a master of manipulating hearts and minds.

Seeing the moment was ripe, Viserys finally spoke. "Good! If you want to live, I have a way."

Thousands of slaves looked up at him, eager to hear his plan. Viserys surveyed the crowd, their faces tinged with yellow from the braziers' flames. He let the tension build, saying nothing for a long moment.

'We can live!' they thought, the anticipation building with every second of silence.

The longer he remained quiet, the more desperate and anxious the crowd became.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Viserys finally spoke. "Kill the Archon! He is the one who attacked Lys, the one who brought disaster upon us. Kill him, and we shall live!"

The command sent a ripple of shock through the crowd. For many, the very idea was terrifying. The Archon was a figure akin to a god, someone beyond the reach of lowly slaves. To kill him felt not just like rebellion but blasphemy.

"Kill the Archon! Live!" Viserys's planted agents among the slaves began murmuring, their voices spreading like a contagion through the crowd. "Kill the Archon! Live!" they whispered, coaxing others to join the chant.

Gradually, the slogan took hold, whispered first by a few bold voices, then echoed by more and more.

"Kill the Archon! Live!"

What began as a trickle grew into a surging torrent. The phrase "Kill the Archon! Live!" seemed to possess a magical power, and soon the miners were chanting it in unison, their whispers turning into a roar.

The bell tolled once more, but this time it wasn't a call to action—it was the death knell of Tyrosh.

Viserys, Jorah, Conwyra, and Regis quickly divided the miners into three groups, each headed toward the nearby mines. They had to act swiftly, mobilizing more slaves to storm the palace and seize the Archon. With no fences or defenses between the mines—just simple markings—and the surrounding slave owners unaware of what was happening, resistance was minimal. The entire mining area was guarded by only a thousand soldiers, most of whom were stationed on the city walls.

Viserys had 300 elite soldiers and a thousand enraged slaves, and it wasn't long before their numbers swelled. The rallying cry, "Kill the Archon and live!" resonated with the slaves, even if they didn't fully grasp its meaning. To them, it simply meant that killing the Archon would prevent them from being sent to the battlefield as cannon fodder.

A chain reaction began. A thousand became two thousand, two thousand became five thousand, and soon they were ten thousand strong. And once they reached ten thousand, there was no stopping the tide. By the time the slave army had swept through the entire mining area, their numbers had swelled to nearly twenty thousand.

Through the eyes of his golden eagle, Viserys observed the mass of assembled miners. Each held a pickaxe or torch, their flickering lights a spark ready to ignite a wildfire, illuminating the night. But Viserys knew that this unruly mob wasn't yet an army. They could only succeed if they struck the palace in one decisive blow. If their momentum faltered, they would surely fail.

According to plan, Daenerys was leading a similar uprising, though her task was somewhat easier. By now, the name "Young Mother" had become a symbol of hope, a beacon that sustained the will of many slaves.

In the moonlight, Daenerys—her silver hair gleaming as she rode her white horse—looked like a goddess, radiating a soft yet unyielding strength. Hundreds of slaves surrounded her, listening in quiet reverence. Before them lay several half-dead slave owners, including Koxhmar, who had caused trouble recently. Earlier that day, he had been drinking in his garden, brooding over the state of affairs. But to his shock, the usually docile slaves had turned on him, binding him with ropes. He had tried to call for help, but most of the guards were already stationed on the city walls.

Now, he lay before Daenerys, the first sacrificial offering in her bid to liberate the oppressed.

"Slaves, this is the last time I will call you that," Daenerys shouted from atop her horse, her voice carrying over the crowd. "The so-called Archon has brought disaster upon us all! He hides in his fortress, safe behind its walls, while you are expected to use your flesh as shields and your bones as spears for his ambition!"

Her voice trembled slightly, and faint blue veins stood out on her neck. Though she was nervous—so much so that she secretly pinched her thigh for courage—thinking of the slaves who had died before her eyes steeled her resolve. The words Viserys had taught her now rang sincere and heartfelt.

The slaves, seeing Daenerys as if bathed in a radiant light, felt their determination solidify under her gaze.

Ding-dong, ding-dong... The bell tolled relentlessly, a reminder of the urgency of their mission.

"Break your shackles and claim the freedom you were born to have!" Daenerys cried, her voice fierce and clear. As she finished, she rode up to Koxhmar.

For Koxhmar, the world suddenly became blindingly bright, and then plunged into darkness. The last thing he heard was the thunderous cheers of the slaves.

Ding-dong, ding-dong...

"It's time," Red Viper murmured, listening to the faint bells tolling from Tyrosh as he glanced up at the moon. He was just about to give the order to attack when a seagull swooped down, delivering a letter to him.

"A white raven? No, it's a seagull!" Arianne exclaimed, watching in shock as the Red Viper removed a note from the bird's leg. She had never imagined that seagulls could be used for such a purpose.

'Is this more of his magic?' she wondered, an image of Viserys flashing through her mind. She quickly ran to her uncle's side, eager to see what the note said, but being too short, she couldn't quite reach it, even on her tiptoes.

Red Viper's mind swirled with questions as he read the message. "He's attacking the palace? Where did he get an army?" he mused aloud. "Is his magic so powerful that he can conjure up soldiers? And wasn't he supposed to be at Dragon's Flame Fortress? How did he end up in Tyrosh?"

Arianne finally caught a glimpse of the note and her face lit up with excitement. "Uncle! Let's attack now!"

Before Red Viper could respond, his eldest daughter, Obara, who towered over Arianne, sternly reminded her, "Arianne, don't interfere with father's command."

Realizing her mistake, Arianne shrank back, chastened. Anyone else who had dared to speak to Red Viper that way might not have lived to tell the tale.

Though Red Viper couldn't quite comprehend where Viserys had mustered an army, he decided to trust him, as Viserys had proven himself capable of miracles before.

"Pass my order! The fleet is to advance to the coast!" he commanded.

If this gamble paid off, Dorne would no longer have to fear the threat from the Stepstones. Instead, they would enjoy substantial new revenue from taxes.

As the fleet from Sunspear began to move, the defenders on the shore sounded the alarm, their horns blaring into the night. The fleets from Myr and Pentos, too, set sail under the moonlight. Despite their desire to preserve their strength, Sunspear's forces, which made up one-third of the alliance, had no choice but to join the fray, at least to make a show of force.

Chapter 171: Dragon Shooting Crossbow

Although it wasn't intended to be used in this battle, Sunspear had come fully prepared, including bringing their prized dragon-shooting crossbow—a massive weapon that had once felled Meraxes. This 300-pound behemoth was mounted on the deck of their warships, and to draw its powerful bowstring, a winch the size of a bathtub was employed.

With a range of nearly 400 meters, this crossbow allowed the Sunspear forces to exert significant pressure on the defenders even before landing.

"Wind it up! Wind it up!"

A burly man with a pink bald patch on his head stood atop the crossbow, shouting commands to the attendants. His name was Archibald, but he was better known by his nickname, "Greenguts." Bald since his youth due to an illness, Greenguts's thick neck and bald head made him look far older than his early twenties.

The attendants strained as they wound the winch, slowly drawing back the bowstring. The thick crossbow bolt, nearly the size of a short spear, retreated into position, its cold, sharp tip gleaming in the moonlight.

With his eye pressed to the sight, Greenguts took aim at the helmsman of an enemy ship. The Tyrosh helmsman's silver hair made him an easy target in the dark.

The dragon crossbow released with a muffled thud, and the helmsman barely had time to react. He heard a sinister whistle, but it was too late—the bolt pierced his shoulder and pinned him to the mast behind him. The sailors around him cried out in shock, momentarily too frightened to expose themselves. It wasn't until the captain barked orders that they regained their composure.

Satisfied with his shot, Greenguts immediately called for another bolt to be loaded. While Sunspear's forces were applying pressure, the same couldn't be said for Myr and Pentos.

Illyrio had spent a considerable sum to make Connington captain of a warship, but despite Connington's extensive experience in commanding troops, the soldiers under him were less than enthusiastic.

When Connington urged them to press the attack, the sailors hesitated.

"Captain, there's no reward for winning this battle," one sailor with a shiny red nose remarked. "We've heard that you're only fighting because you owe debts. If we risk our lives too much, we'll lose both our debts and our lives. What's the point?"

Connington was left speechless.

"But you still have families, don't you? If you pay off your debts early, you could give them a better life," he tried to reason.

But the soldiers only laughed.

"My lord, our families have already legally transferred all their debts to us. They'll only be relieved if we don't make it back."

Connington felt a wave of helplessness. He had come to Tyrosh in pursuit of Aegon, but after spending so long in the Golden Company, he hadn't grasped the depth of the situation in Tyrosh. With such poor quality troops, he couldn't use his full abilities and found himself sinking into an army that was like a giant with feet of clay.

...

In the Archon's Palace, high in the bell tower, the tension was palpable.

"Archon, General Toland has asked where you wish to send troops to suppress the rebellion," an attendant asked.

Kambron stood coldly before a map of Tyrosh on the wall. Less than an hour ago, he had received dire news: the Sunspear fleet had launched an attack from the west. Almost simultaneously, the combined fleet of Myr and Pentos had attacked from the north.

And now, to make matters worse, word had come that the slaves in the copper mines had revolted. The most alarming part? The revolt was heading directly towards his palace.

Kambron's mind raced. With bad news coming in waves, he had to decide quickly where to send his forces, but the constant flow of setbacks left him seething with irritation.

"Where is Toland?!" Kambron barked, his frustration boiling over. "He only comes to me when there's a problem! Shouldn't he be commanding the front line?"

The messenger winced under the scolding, but Kambron knew that after venting his anger, he still needed to figure out where to draw reinforcements.

"Hmph! The Myr-Pentos Alliance!" Kambron sneered, dismissing Pentos with disdain. To him, Pentos was a city-state that had lost four out of five battles with Braavos, and even in its lone victory, it was forced to bow to Braavos, abandoning the "glorious tradition of Valyrian" slavery in the Free Cities. This reputation as the weakest of the nine Free Cities, with fewer than twenty warships and just over ten thousand troops, made Pentos laughable in Kambron's eyes.

He turned to the messenger with a decision. "Send troops from the north to suppress them!"

"Yes, my lord!" the messenger replied, hurrying off.

Kambron studied the map, calculating the time it would take for reinforcements to arrive—at least an hour, and with the time needed to assemble, an hour and a half. He still had a thousand Unsullied guards in his palace, so he believed he could hold out.

But just then, another disheveled messenger burst into his study, his appearance alone a harbinger of bad news.

"Speak!" Kambron demanded.

"Archon, the Dragon's Flame Fortress has fallen, and the Windblown have seized control of our eastern port!"

"The Windblown? What about the Wolf Pack? What are they doing?"

"I don't know, Archon! We were in the middle of training when suddenly a green cloud of smoke appeared, and then the Windblown attacked out of nowhere..."

"Green smoke?" Kambron repeated, a chill running down his spine as he recalled hearing tales of something similar from pirates. In the past year, there had been one name that struck fear into the hearts of those pirates: Viserys Targaryen.

"Windblown, you son of a bitch!" Kambron cursed, realizing he had been ensnared in a massive conspiracy, though he couldn't pinpoint when or how the web had been spun. He also couldn't fathom why Pentos and the Windblown were both involved in this so-called "coalition." He knew of the connection between the leader of the Windblown and Pentos, but this alliance made no sense to him.

He took a few deep gulps of ice water from the jug beside him, trying to calm himself and focus on the immediate crisis.

The walls of Tyrosh were high, and the fleet outside couldn't breach them for the time being. The most pressing issue now was quelling the slave uprising. As a noble of the Free Cities, Kambron understood all too well that since the fall of Volantis, the Free Cities had lost the power to conquer each other. Although the sudden coalition of four powers seemed threatening, he was confident that if he could hold the city, they would eventually retreat.

Meanwhile, through the eyes of his Golden Eagle, Viserys observed an army approaching the palace. They would arrive in less than an hour. This meant that within that hour, he and his forces had to breach the palace and capture Kambron alive if they were to win.

Looking around, Viserys counted fewer than 10,000 rebel miners by his side. But if they could just open the palace gate, half the battle would be won.

Viserys turned to the slaves behind him, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Hurry! Break into the palace! Kill the Archon! You will never be slaves again!"

"Kill the Archon! No more slaves!"

"Kill the Archon! No more slaves!"

Viserys's rallying cry echoed through the crowd, condensing into a powerful, unified slogan. Within a quarter of an hour, more than 10,000 determined rebels had reached the gates of the palace.

On the palace walls, archers peeked out from their cover, raining arrows down upon the crowd. In mere moments, hundreds of slaves fell under the deadly volley. The darkness of the night provided little cover, and death claimed its victims swiftly.

Suddenly, a shout came from behind. "Out of the way!" Several riders appeared, hauling a minecart loaded with heavy ore that Viserys had prepared in advance. Jorah directed some of the rebels to pull the cart by its side while others pushed from behind.

"Move quickly! Reinforce the gate!" a guard on the city wall shouted, realizing what was about to happen. But it was too late.

As the cart neared the gate, the ropes securing it were cut, and the four- or five-ton load barreled forward with unstoppable force. The guards and miners alike watched in tense anticipation as the massive cart slammed into the gate like a battering ram.

"Charge!" Viserys commanded.

Like a dam breaking, more than 10,000 miners surged through the shattered gate, pouring into the palace grounds like a relentless gray flood. The sheer press of bodies forced their way inside, overwhelming any resistance. In the chaos, the weaker among them were trampled underfoot, their deaths unnoticed in the frenzy of the assault.

From his vantage point on the bell tower, Kambron felt a chill run down his spine. Even without military experience, he knew the fate that awaited him if he fell into the hands of the enraged slaves.

"Quick! Quick! Get the Unsullied to stop them!" Kambron shouted desperately.

But the Unsullied needed no orders; they were already moving into formation. As the rebel miners stormed into the palace, a thousand Unsullied soldiers formed ten tightly-knit squares, a formidable wall of flesh and steel.

Even the most uneducated slaves knew of the Unsullied's fearsome reputation. It was said that under the walls of Qohor, 3,000 Unsullied had held back tens of thousands of Dothraki warriors. Although only 600 had survived, they had forced the Dothraki to lower their heads in defeat, cutting their hair in a gesture of submission.

As the Unsullied prepared to launch their counterattack, Conwyra stepped forward, shield in hand, placing himself between his former companions and the rebel ranks. He knew the words of surrender that Viserys had instructed him to say would likely fall on deaf ears among the Unsullied, but he had chosen to carry out his orders regardless.

Chapter 172: The Tomb of the Unsullied

"Unsullied! I am one of you! We are all slaves—you are slaves, and these people were slaves not long ago. Lay down your weapons and let us pass. You will be free men!" Conwyra shouted, stepping into the torchlight so the Unsullied could clearly see him.

But as Conwyra had anticipated, his plea fell on deaf ears. The Unsullied were unmoved, their discipline unwavering.

Viserys had expected this outcome and wasn't relying solely on persuasion. Instead, he waited for the signal—the flaming arrows that would ignite the next phase of the attack. Behind him, the miners held their breath, hoping for a miracle. None of them wanted to face the Unsullied in battle.

But at the command of the Unsullied commander, a thousand spears flew through the air toward the rebel miners. Most of the malnourished slaves didn't even see the projectiles coming, but it didn't matter—the deadly rain of spears found its mark, splattering blood across the ranks of the uprising.

Though the night obscured much of the carnage, the thick, iron-rich smell of blood filled the air, unmistakable and nauseating. Milen felt a warm, sticky sensation on his cheek. He touched it and realized it was blood. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he was thrown to the ground. When he looked up, he saw Old York had fallen on top of him, a spear jutting from his chest.

"Old York! Old York!" Milen cried out, shaking him. Despite the fatal wound, Old York's eyes were shining with a strange light.

"Follow the master... live on!" Old York managed to say before the light in his eyes dimmed and he fell silent.

"Old York! Old York!" Milen continued to shake him, refusing to accept the reality of his death. But before he could even process what had happened, another volley of spears rained down.

The rebel army—slaves just an hour ago—had never experienced a battle like this. Panic quickly spread through their ranks. Some cried out for their parents, others turned to flee. The enormous palace gate behind them became a bottleneck, causing a stampede as more than 10,000 people pressed together like a pot of boiling black porridge.

The smell of blood grew stronger, and it was clear this was turning into a slaughter.

"Run!"

"Get out of the way!"

"Don't push me!"

Before Viserys could regain control, the Unsullied pressed forward like a sharp blade ready to slice through his forces.

Caggo, seeing the mine slaves trying to flee, was enraged. In his fury, he lashed out with his curved blade, striking down some of his own people in an attempt to restore order. But instead of rallying the troops, his actions had the opposite effect. The slaves, seeing his armor, mistook him for one of Kambron's men, causing them to flee even faster.

The chaotic scene was punctuated by the sudden sound of gongs—familiar to the miners from Viserys's mine. It was the signal for mealtime, a routine so ingrained in them that even amidst the chaos, the sound triggered a reflex. Some of the miners, even in their panic, began to salivate at the sound.

The gongs cut through the panic, momentarily bringing some of the fleeing miners back to their senses. But the situation remained dire, with the Unsullied closing in and the rebel army on the brink of collapse.

"Even if you run now, you'll be killed! Charge! The only way to survive is to fight!" Regis shouted from a high vantage point, his powerful voice cutting through the chaos and calming some of the panicked crowd.

"We have 30,000 men—they have only 1,000! Overpower them! Overpower them all!" His voice cracked at the end, but the message had sunk in. The slaves didn't know the exact numbers, but they understood that 30,000 was far more than 1,000.

At that moment, a flaming torch flew into the ranks of the Unsullied. But this wasn't just a torch—it was a bottle of wildfire, an incendiary weapon that Viserys had concocted. The bottles exploded upon impact, creating a yellow-green wall of fire that significantly slowed the Unsullied's advance.

Yet, what happened next surprised even Viserys. Some of the Unsullied caught fire, and though they briefly fell out of formation, they didn't break. Despite the intense heat and flames, they managed to extinguish the fire within minutes and rejoined the fight, their bodies singed but their resolve unbroken.

The sight of these warriors continuing to fight, despite the pain and the burns, earned a new level of respect from Viserys. The wildfire, while hotter and more difficult to extinguish than normal flames, caused only minimal disruption among these fearsome soldiers. It was clear that the Unsullied's training had prepared them for nearly anything, even fire.

Viserys had heard of their brutal training methods: confronting their worst fears head-on until they were no longer fears. It seemed they had even trained to withstand fire. But Viserys had more tricks up his sleeve—he still had fire magic.

Protected by Conwyra and the others, Viserys cast aside his halberd and summoned several fiery serpents, which slithered forward to sow chaos among the enemy ranks. The Unsullied, unfamiliar with magic, were visibly shaken. When one of them saw a yellow-green fire serpent lunging at him, he froze in terror. Though he eventually turned to flee, his own comrade's spear found him before he could retreat, a grim reminder of the discipline the Unsullied maintained.

However, the fire serpents began to awaken a primal fear within the Unsullied, something even their training couldn't suppress. One by one, more Unsullied soldiers began to falter, their fear spreading like wildfire through their ranks. Those who had already been burned by the wildfire found the sight of the serpents particularly terrifying.

The disruption in the Unsullied's front line forced them to retreat. Though Viserys wished he could sustain the attack, his magic had its limits—summoning seven or eight fire serpents at a time was already pushing him to the brink. Still, the chaos he had caused was enough to give his forces an advantage.

The miners, unable to see as clearly as Viserys, believed the firebombs had driven the Unsullied back. Those in the front who witnessed the fiery serpents began to whisper among themselves.

"This must be the will of the gods—they are helping us!"

Once such fanaticism took hold, it became a powerful force. The sight before them was no longer just a battle—it was divine intervention.

"Charge!" Regis bellowed, his voice raspy and bloodied from exertion. The sight of the retreating Unsullied and the fiery serpents had invigorated the rebels. They surged forward with renewed vigor, believing the gods themselves were on their side.

Viserys, leading a small group of rebels and a few defected Unsullied, engaged the palace guards with precision. Their skill allowed them to tear a small opening in the Unsullied formation, but the elite soldiers quickly regrouped, encircling Viserys and his men.

"The master is just ahead! Save him!" a miner shouted, reminding the others of the oaths they had sworn. One by one, they grabbed their pickaxes and joined the fray. First one, then two, then three—soon, more and more miners surged forward, spurred on by their newfound resolve.

With the help of his dual perspectives and the remaining 20 Unsullied along with Caggo, Viserys finally managed to break through the Unsullied's defensive line. The Unsullied behind them attempted to give chase, but they were quickly bogged down by the miners who swarmed them, desperate to protect their leader.

Meanwhile, Kambron stood in the bell tower, his view of the battlefield unobstructed. He peered through a single-lens telescope, observing the chaotic scene below. The fires ignited by the wildfire lit up the night, allowing him to see the battle with startling clarity. He watched as Viserys and his small group broke through the line, only to disappear into the darkness shortly after.

In a battle involving tens of thousands, a few dozen fighters were barely noticeable, and Kambron dismissed their significance. He remained confident, knowing that he still had nearly 50 armed guards protecting him. He believed his Unsullied had effectively repelled the rebel attack.

Turning his gaze northward, Kambron spotted the flags of the reinforcements retreating from the northern line of defense. The sight filled him with excitement. "They're here! Finally, they're here!" he exclaimed, slapping the rough stone wall in delight, his palms reddening from the force.

Though the reinforcements numbered only around 3,000, Kambron was certain they would be more than enough to crush the slave uprising. He had already decided that all the rebels would be executed to serve as a brutal deterrent to the other slaves in the city.

But suddenly, his triumphant thoughts were interrupted by a frantic voice. "Archon, there's a slave uprising to the west of the palace!"

"What?!" Kambron's telescope slipped from his hand, clattering against the guardrail before tumbling into the dark grass below. He instinctively reached for it, but his fingers barely brushed the edge.

"The slaves are attacking our forces with ferocity," the guard continued, his voice trembling. "They're killing our men and then retreating."

Kambron, baffled and growing increasingly desperate, demanded, "Who is leading them?!"

The scout, clearly shaken, stammered, "Archon, I heard them shouting something about a 'Young Mother.' Yes, it's 'Young Mother.'"

"Young Mother?" Kambron repeated, disbelieving. The phrase seemed an impossible contradiction—how could "Mother" be associated with "young"?

Just then, another voice spoke up beside him. "Archon, I remember now—'Young Mother' is Viserys's sister, Dany!"

"Daenerys?" Kambron's mind raced, as if he were grasping at the loose end of a tangled skein of yarn, trying to unravel the mystery but finding it just out of reach.

Before he could process the implications, another scout rushed up with grim news. "Archon! More than 20 rebels have already breached the tower!"

Chapter 173: The Stairs Made Me Spin

Although Viserys and his group had already dispatched the guards outside the bell tower, more awaited them on the spiraling staircase within.

Swish, swish, swish!

Several crossbow bolts zipped through the air toward them, but their armor absorbed the impact, leaving them unharmed. However, the next moment, a squad of heavily armored swordsmen, clad in Kambron's signature green, blocked their path. Everything from their cloaks to their armor bore the same distinctive shade, marking them as the Archon's personal guards.

But Viserys had no time to admire the uniformity of their attire. In the confined space of the staircase, his halberd was cumbersome, its long reach more of a hindrance than a help. With only two viable attack options—thrusting and parrying—it was easy for an opponent to dodge. Recognizing this, Viserys adjusted his strategy.

He hefted the halberd to his ear and hurled it at the approaching swordsmen. The lead guard raised his shield, confident in his defense, but the halberd tore through both shield and armor with ease, impaling him. Shock filled the man's eyes as he looked down at the weapon lodged in his stomach, disbelief written across his face.

'What kind of monster is this?' he thought, echoing the stunned expressions of his comrades. Even Conwyra and the others following Viserys were momentarily taken aback by his raw power.

A second later, Viserys drew his Valyrian steel sword and charged forward. The sight of him closing the distance so quickly was enough to send the remaining armored soldiers into a panicked retreat. But they hadn't reckoned with Viserys's speed. He caught up to them effortlessly, slashing at the vulnerable gaps between their helmets and armor. Though they wore chainmail beneath, it offered little protection against the razor-sharp Valyrian steel.

Two soldiers fell, their heads rolling across the stone floor. The remaining guards let out muffled screams of terror, realizing they were up against something far beyond their training.

With their spirits broken and bodies exhausted from the heavy armor and the climb, the remaining guards knew they couldn't outrun Viserys. Under the crushing weight of both fear and fatigue, one of them collapsed to his knees, surrendering on the spot.

Viserys, unfazed, continued up the stairs without a second glance. The other soldiers, seeing their lives spared, quickly tossed their swords down the steps, unwilling to risk further confrontation. They had faced many foes, but none like this.

Freed from the obstruction, Viserys surged ahead, moving with a speed that left Conwyra and the others struggling to keep up. While the climb left them winded, Viserys seemed untouched by the exertion.

From the perspective of his golden eagle, Viserys knew that Kambron still had about ten men guarding him. Worse yet, the reinforcements were now only a few hundred meters from the bell tower. The urgency was clear—he had to capture Kambron, and he had to do it quickly, or everything would be lost.

"Damn, who designed these spiral stairs?" Viserys muttered, frustration bubbling up as he continued to climb. He'd lost count of how many times he'd circled the narrow steps—twenty at least—but he was nearing the top. He knew that once he reached it, he'd have to face a group of ten heavily armed men, and he'd have to take them on alone.

Meanwhile, Kambron, unaware of the chaos below, felt his confidence growing as he watched the reinforcements draw nearer.

"In the tower! There are still enemies in the tower!" Kambron waved his hand and shouted down to his approaching forces. Then, turning angrily to the guards beside him, he barked, "Don't just stand there! You shout too!"

Oblivious to the precise situation downstairs, Kambron was reassured by the fact that the men below were first-class warriors. He believed that even if the intruder was strong, they couldn't possibly reach him so quickly. Following his command, the guards leaned over the railing and began yelling:

"Hey! There are enemies in the bell tower!"

"Come quickly!"

"There are enemies—"

The officer leading the reinforcements couldn't make out the exact words at first, but it didn't take long for him to realize something was very wrong at the bell tower. He quickly dispatched a small team of about 100 men to investigate.

Just as Kambron and his guards were shouting, a calm but commanding voice cut through the noise.

"Stop shouting."

Kambron felt a cold dread settle in his chest. He turned and saw a figure emerging from the shadows—a man holding a Valyrian steel sword with a distinctive wavy pattern. The armor he wore was adorned with a golden-trimmed three-headed dragon, and at nearly 1.9 meters tall, his identity was unmistakable.

When Kambron first learned that the Windblown had turned against him, he suspected that Viserys was planning something big. But he hadn't expected a slave uprising of this magnitude, nor had he imagined that Viserys would be so formidable. Now, seeing him in person, Kambron was shocked, though he tried to hide it.

But no matter, he reassured himself—his reinforcements were close, and he still had more than a dozen heavily armored guards at his side. He might not understand how Viserys had managed to dispatch the pirates so quickly, but that seemed irrelevant now.

"I have eleven men here, and you're alone. How dare you come?" Kambron sneered, attempting to project confidence. Yet, as he glanced at Viserys, who had climbed those stairs with alarming speed, unease gnawed at him.

He knew that these ten or so heavily armored soldiers would be a challenge, but Viserys wasn't there to talk. Without hesitation, he swung his Valyrian steel sword at Kambron. "Attack!" Kambron shouted, and a dozen armored soldiers surged forward to surround Viserys. They attacked together, fully aware of his fearsome reputation, confident that their numbers would eventually overwhelm him. After all, no matter how skilled, a man bleeds if struck by a sword.

Yet once again, things did not go as they expected.

Viserys moved with uncanny agility, slipping through their ranks like a shadow. He always found the perfect angle to evade their blows, making it impossible for them to pin him down. After a dozen exchanges, they were stunned to realize that they had already lost three men.

"What kind of monster is this?" one soldier gasped, echoing the thoughts of his comrades.

Even Kambron, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but marvel at Viserys's prowess. The strength and precision he displayed were reminiscent of legends like the Sword of the Morning or Qarro, the Sealord's First Sword. But admiration quickly turned to fear as he realized the battle was steadily moving toward him.

Kambron, had been hiding behind the wall to avoid the fight, suddenly he heard the sound of combat coming from the stairs.

Viserys heart sank—he had just learned that a squad had entered the bell tower. Conwyra and the others were heavily outnumbered. If he didn't end this battle quickly, he would soon be surrounded.

Desperate, Viserys made a snap decision. He opened his panel and allocated all his Assignable Points to restore his magic, knowing this would be a temporary boost. It was the equivalent of "burning the stove with diamonds," an act of sheer desperation, but he didn't care.

A ball of flame flared to life in his palm, sending billowing smoke throughout the room. The soldiers' eyes burned as they tried to see through the dense smoke, but it blinded them, rendering them helpless.

'By the gods, he really does have magic!' was Kambron's last coherent thought as the smoke enveloped him. When it finally cleared, he found himself staring down the cold edge of Viserys's sword, the blade already resting against his neck.

Chapter 174: The Unsullied Scepter

The uprising miners had split into two groups: one surrounded by several hundred Unsullied, while the other was scattered throughout the palace. History has shown time and again how a few hundred well-armed regular troops could easily crush tens of thousands of poorly organized peasant soldiers at the start of an uprising. This was no different.

Jorah, leading fewer than two thousand miners, found himself locked in a brutal struggle against the Unsullied. When he spotted reinforcements from Tyrosh arriving in the distance, a cold dread settled in his heart. This meant that Viserys was in grave danger.

There was no escape—he didn't even need to look back to know that.

"Hold on!" Jorah shouted, his eyes bloodshot and wild with desperation. He fought like a man possessed, slipping and falling on the blood-soaked stone floor. The palace's hard surface couldn't absorb the blood, which pooled and mingled with the severed limbs, making it nearly impossible for anyone to keep their footing.

Gasping for breath, Jorah felt the thick stench of blood filling his lungs. He had never been in such a ferocious battle in his life. The Unsullied advanced steadily, their spears dripping with dark red blood, like the claws of demons. Jorah had never faced an enemy like this before; most mercenary groups avoided direct confrontation with the Unsullied for good reason.

As he contemplated retreat, he realized with a sinking heart that his path was blocked. Behind him lay the bodies of fallen miners, and beyond them, the impenetrable palace walls. Despair began to creep in.

Suddenly, a golden rod-like object fell from the sky, narrowly missing him. Instinctively, Jorah dodged, and the object hit the ground with a dull thud, splattered with blood. He looked up and saw Viserys's golden eagle circling above. Realizing what had fallen, Jorah snatched up the object—it was the Unsullied's scepter.

"Charge! Kill them! Kill them all!" the commander of the Tyrosh reinforcements bellowed, his eyes wild with bloodlust, the overpowering scent of blood driving him to the brink of madness.

But in the next moment, Jorah raised the scepter high, shouting, "Dovaogēdyr!"—the command for the Unsullied. The soldiers halted, their attention drawn to the scepter in his hand.

"In the name of the scepter, attack!" Jorah commanded, his voice hoarse, as he pointed the scepter toward the reinforcements.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. The Unsullied, who had been fiercely fighting the rebel miners just moments before, suddenly turned their spears and charged the Tyrosh reinforcements. The commander of the reinforcements stared in disbelief, knowing all too well the deadly efficiency of the Unsullied. The sight of their spears now turned against him sent a shiver down his spine.

With the Unsullied leading the way, the miners rallied and charged at the reinforcements. The tide of battle was shifting rapidly. Rovi's son, who led the reinforcements, thought frantically, 'If Kambron is safe, we can still salvage this.' Losing the palace seemed an acceptable risk if it meant regrouping for another fight.

Suddenly, the piercing cry of Viserys's golden eagle echoed through the night, cutting through the chaos like a blade through black velvet.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out—it was Kambron's.

"Everyone, drop your weapons! Drop your weapons!"

...

On the shore, the Sunspear fleet's assault was fierce, thanks to their dragon-shooting crossbows. However, despite the intensity of their barrage, the fleet remained at a safe distance, showing no signs of landing.

Arianne paced anxiously at the bow of her ship, surrounded by seven or eight heavily armored soldiers holding shields. She was safe, but her view was obstructed, allowing her only glimpses of Tyrosh through the small gaps between the shields.

"Move over a bit! We're so far away, how could I possibly get hurt?" Arianne complained, trying to push the guards aside. But they were too large and strong, standing firm despite her efforts.

"Arianne!" The Red Viper's stern voice cut through the tension. Arianne turned to face her uncle and, seeing his expression, reluctantly retreated.

"Uncle, why aren't we attacking the city yet?" she asked, her frustration barely contained.

"Arianne, this is war. Father is the commander," Obara said, her tone firm.

"But Viserys said he was attacking the capital. If we push harder, he'll be safer, right?"

"We'll fire three more volleys, then prepare to land," the Red Viper ordered.

"Three more rounds?" Arianne echoed, exasperated.

"Arianne!" Obara warned again.

Frustrated, Arianne stamped her foot and stormed off to sulk. She had already sensed that neither the coalition fleet nor her own had truly committed to the attack. Worry gnawed at her—what was happening inside the city? Was Viserys's assault going well?

The Red Viper shared her concern. He knew that those inside Tyrosh must be fighting desperately, possibly even facing capture. But he also believed that Viserys was no ordinary man and would find a way to prevail.

At that moment, a white seagull landed on the flagship. Red Viper glanced at it, and his second daughter, Nymeria, stepped forward to retrieve the note tied to the bird's leg.

"Father! Viserys says he's taken the palace and captured the Archon alive. He wants us to meet him in the western part of the city!"

Red Viper could hardly believe it. He took the note and read it himself.

"He took the palace? And captured the Archon alive?" He repeated, astonished. "Where did he get an army from?"

The Red Viper was baffled. He had never been inside Tyrosh's palace, but from the outside, it appeared impregnable without at least 5,000 elite troops. Somehow, Viserys must have conjured up such a force.

Finally, the Red Viper made up his mind to launch a full-scale attack. With the enemy's leader captured, the defenders' morale would crumble. Now was the time to strike hard and reap the rewards of victory.

"Cease the harassment of the city and prepare to land!" he commanded, ordering the ships to approach the shore.

Arianne eagerly donned her helmet, ready to be the first to leap from the ship.

"Nymeria, watch her. Obara and I will go," the Red Viper instructed.

"No! Uncle, no! You promised me!" Arianne protested, her anger flaring.

"I promised to bring you to Tyrosh, not to let you go to war," the Red Viper replied, a cunning gleam in his eye as Arianne fumed.

"Don't worry, we'll come for you after we've cleared the enemy," he added, leaving Arianne to watch helplessly as he and the others disembarked.

Meanwhile, Connington, observing the battle from the Myr-Pentos alliance, studied the situation closely. He had suggested that the best vantage point to monitor the clash between the Pentos and Sunspear fleets was at their junction. But despite his strategic positioning, Connington wasn't optimistic about the battle's outcome. As the former Hand of the King, he had the insight to see that the loose coalition, while fierce, might not achieve much.

The Sunspear fleet seemed to share his doubts. They wouldn't risk their lives until they were certain of victory. The sailors' morale was low, and there was little hope of success.

Then, to Connington's surprise, the Sunspear fleet began a landing operation.

'What's going on?' he wondered, baffled. He couldn't understand why Doran, known for his cautious nature, would allow Red Viper to launch such an attack.

Chapter 175: The Archon Wants to Kill Him

The bloodied Jorah finally rejoined Viserys. But what astonished Viserys the most was Regis, who, despite having seven or eight arrows lodged in his chest, was still standing and eager for more. After confirming that Regis wasn't on the verge of death, Viserys allowed himself a sigh of relief.

"Lord, we've taken control of the entire palace, and the reinforcements are now our prisoners," Jorah reported.

"Yes," Viserys acknowledged, then turned to Conwyra. "You and Regis stay here and guard the palace."

"Understood, my lord," Conwyra replied without hesitation.

"My lord, let me go with you!" Regis said eagerly.

"Execute the order," Viserys commanded in a stern tone. Regis, deflated, was about to argue further, but Viserys softened slightly. "There will be plenty of opportunities in the future. I'm going to make the final move, and I can't afford for anything to go wrong."

"Understood!" Regis responded with renewed determination, as did the others. They then prepared to set off.

Kambron, who had been standing nearby, watched Viserys with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Just two months ago, this mercenary had been on his side, slicing through enemies. Now, he stood victorious, having turned the tide and even mobilized the city's slaves to take Kambron's own palace.

Kambron felt as though he had lost unfairly, but the spark of cunning still flickered in his eyes. "How do you plan to rule Tyrosh?" he asked Viserys, testing him.

"Joint rule. That's what we and our allies agreed on from the start," Viserys replied.

Kambron's eyes brightened with hope. "That sounds reasonable, but have you thought about how to protect your own interests?"

A playful smile crossed Viserys's face as he realized he had underestimated Kambron. Despite being on the brink of destruction, Kambron was still scheming, trying to find a way to maintain his power.

"Say what you're really thinking. Don't hold back," Viserys said.

Seeing that his intentions were laid bare, Kambron decided to be blunt. "Since you can mobilize slaves, Prince, you should use them as your power base after the war. Tyrosh has fewer than 300,000 people, but 250,000 of them are slaves. If you order their emancipation, Tyrosh will be yours."

Jorah, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. After all, it was the slaves who had helped Viserys win the war, and Kambron's suggestion seemed entirely feasible.

Viserys suddenly stopped and turned to face Kambron. Seeing this, Kambron thought he had won Viserys over and eagerly awaited his response.

"What a great idea!" Viserys exclaimed, as if just realizing the potential.

Kambron's heart soared with hope, but it was short-lived.

"If I abolish slavery in Tyrosh, Myr and even Volantis will declare war on me," Viserys continued, his tone growing sharper with each word. "That would give you the perfect opportunity to strike back and kill me. Is that your brilliant plan?"

Viserys punctuated each word with a backhanded slap across Kambron's face. With each blow, Kambron's heart sank deeper into despair.

"No, Prince! No!" Kambron pleaded, but Viserys was unmoved.

"I didn't want to kill you," Viserys said with mock regret. "I wanted to use you. But it seems you can't let go of your identity as Archon. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're buried with your crown."

As Viserys's words sunk in, Kambron's legs gave out beneath him. He realized too late that his own cunning had sealed his fate. If only he hadn't tried to be clever, perhaps he would have survived. But now, facing this young man who was far more dangerous than he had anticipated, Kambron could only feel bitter regret.

"Prince, please, it's a misunderstanding. I was only making a suggestion!" Kambron howled in desperation, his voice cracking as he tried to convince Viserys of his sincerity. The fear in his eyes was palpable, yet if Viserys hadn't seen through his facade, he might have almost believed him.

In truth, Viserys still hadn't made up his mind to kill Kambron. With his Dragon Dreams, he could foresee and prevent most dangers before they became a threat. However, the ambition and cunning Kambron had displayed made it clear that subduing him would be a daunting task.

After taking Tyrosh, Viserys needed a stable foothold. Rebuilding after the war would require experienced bureaucrats, and killing them all would make it nearly impossible to maintain control over the city. The fate of the original Mother of Dragons was a stark reminder of the dangers of eliminating too many local rulers. Tyrosh could potentially support an army of 20,000 men, and if Viserys could secure the disputed territories, that number might even rise to 50,000. But this depended on his ability to establish effective governance.

Yet Kambron's relentless scheming and resilience were deeply unsettling. For someone who had gone from being a powerful Archon to a captive in such a short time, Kambron's quick recovery from shock was unnerving. It was clear that keeping someone as dangerous as Kambron around was a significant risk.

"Prince, I'm willing to give you everything I own. Please, spare my life!" Kambron pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation.

Viserys leaned in closer, his tone cold and menacing. "In a moment, you will persuade the soldiers outside to surrender. If you do, I'll make your death quick."

Kambron flinched as Viserys's words cut through him. "You'll know what it's like to survive a disaster," Viserys added ominously. "And then, you'll be obedient."

As this tense exchange unfolded, the fleet from Sunspear had already begun landing. However, Tyrosh's fierce counterattack had inflicted significant losses. Toland, who was overseeing the command, couldn't understand why the defenders had suddenly intensified their efforts, but he had no choice but to hold his ground.

Just as Toland was about to lead his guards to the front lines to rally his troops, a subordinate rushed over, breathless.

"Lord, the Archon has been captured."

"What?!" Toland's world spun as if he'd been struck in the back of the head. Dizzy and disoriented, he had to grab an adjutant to keep from collapsing.

He quickly led his men down from the city walls, and in the growing light of dawn, he saw two familiar figures—Kambron and Viserys.

Beside them, dozens of men shouted in unison, "Listen up! Your Archon has been captured. Lay down your weapons, and we guarantee your safety! Lay down your weapons!"

Toland's legs gave out, and he crumpled to the ground. He knew then that the game was over.

Chapter 176: Goodbye

After the Red Viper set foot on the land of Tyrosh, he was struck by the sight of Windblown banners flying over the city walls. The blue and white flags fluttered in the morning breeze, adding a delicate touch to the dark stone fortifications. This was an unexpected sight.

Capturing a city was a grand feat, one that most would seize as an opportunity to display their house banners proudly, asserting the restoration of their ancestral glory. Yet, there wasn't a single Targaryen three-headed dragon banner in sight. Instead, Viserys had chosen restraint.

This revelation gave the Red Viper pause. He realized that Viserys possessed a quality he hadn't fully appreciated before—caution. This young Targaryen was more than just a reckless warrior; he was calculated, perhaps even more so than Bittersteel.

The Red Viper was suddenly reminded of a conversation he had long ago with Prince Doran. Doran had noted Viserys's quiet confidence, an almost unshakable belief that he could carve out a name for himself in the Free Cities. And now, it seemed, he had done just that.

Viserys had secured his own territory, his own power. As the gates opened to welcome him, the Red Viper understood that Tyrosh had indeed fallen under Targaryen rule. Even without the dragon banners, the presence of the Targaryens was palpable, like a shadow of the three-headed dragon looming above, silently asserting its dominance.

Viserys had accurately gauged the fighting spirit and mentality of this so-called alliance. He knew that the Red Viper hadn't committed fully to the attack, but he wasn't concerned. Instead, he stepped forward to greet him, his calm demeanor betraying none of the triumph he surely felt.

The Red Viper stood side by side with Manfrey, though Manfrey hung back slightly, a respectful distance that underscored the Red Viper's authority. Behind them was a retinue of Dorne's finest—a striking woman with a whip in hand, clearly Obara, his eldest daughter, and another with milky white skin and fierce eyes, his second daughter Nymeria.

Among the group were several unfamiliar faces, likely Dorne nobles who had joined the battle. Even the hundreds of guards accompanying them were unmistakably elite. These nobles were intensely curious about the enigmatic Viserys, having heard countless rumors:

The Prince of a Fallen Kingdom,

The Beggar King,

The Champion of the Tournament,

Pirate Killer.

Some of the older nobles even whispered that Viserys might be the reincarnation of the legendary Silver Prince.

Arianne's eyes widened in astonishment as she took in the sight before her. Viserys, clad in black armor, stood like an imposing statue. His silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his entire demeanor radiated an aura of unyielding strength.

After a moment of adjustment, the Red Viper asked, "Has the city been secured?"

"The high-ranking officials of Tyrosh have all been arrested," Viserys replied. "But I don't have enough men to hold it."

Manfrey immediately seized the opportunity. "We can bring in the army!" he offered eagerly. He was clearly hoping for a chance to plunder Tyrosh, and the prospect of loot had the surrounding Dornish nobles visibly stirring.

Viserys understood their anticipation. They had just come through a battle, and it would be unwise, even inhumane, to deny them the spoils of war. Even him in his previous world had to offer compensation when he stopped his soldiers from looting.

Viserys addressed the crowd with a commanding presence:

"Dorne is a large cake, but there are many more than just us eager to take a bite! The fleets of Pentos and Myr are still hesitating to land, unsure of their next move. Their priority is to protect the city, so they can grab the biggest slice. Tyrosh is a prize, and I don't just want the fattest piece—I intend to swallow the whole thing. As for the others, we'll leave them only the crumbs."

This was Viserys's original strategy: to allow Myr and Pentos access to just a few ports, keeping the majority of the city's wealth for himself and his allies. He was particularly wary of Myr, another slave-owning Free City. If they were allowed in, they would inevitably seize slaves, possibly sparking conflicts over who controlled them. Now that Tyrosh was becoming his "dragon's lair," Viserys was determined not to let anyone else threaten his dominance.

The Red Viper and his followers accepted Viserys's counsel and moved to secure the city. Manfrey returned to mobilize more soldiers to bolster the city's defenses.

...

Meanwhile, the combined forces of Myr and Pentos remained offshore, hesitant to commit. As dawn broke, they decided to call a temporary truce.

"That's enough for now. I'm exhausted," Lightnere suggested to his brother. "Send someone to check on the Westerosi. They seem to be quite formidable."

The two brothers were clearly unprepared for the intensity of the battle. Just as they were ready to settle down, a scout arrived with startling news.

"My lord, the Westerosi say that Tyrosh has fallen. They invite you to a meeting and request that you station your army at the harbor."

The brothers were stunned. 'Could the Westerosi truly be that strong?' They had clearly underestimated their allies. It dawned on them that they had contributed little to the fight; the forces from Sunspear had nearly taken Tyrosh single-handedly.

In the hierarchy of the Free Cities, Braavos was stronger than Pentos, as history had shown when Braavos defeated Pentos. But even Braavos had not conquered Pentos. Tyrosh was considered more formidable than Pentos, and now, Sunspear had proven itself stronger than Tyrosh. This realization placed Pentos at the bottom of the power structure.

Facing such a powerful army, the brothers were understandably fearful. While docking their fleet in the harbor would have given them some reassurance, the invitation also made them feel deeply insecure. Yet, they knew they had no choice but to go.

But who would go?

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, each trying to avoid the responsibility.

"Father said you're the commander of this battle, so only you can represent Pentos. I'll stay here," Lightnere said, trying to pass the burden.

"Since I'm the commander, I need to stay and oversee the fleet. You go instead," his brother countered.

Their cowardice was evident, reminiscent of Kurland's infamous reputation for avoiding danger.

"How about sending a captain?" Lightnere suggested, but the men they had brought were mostly from vassal houses, each eager to earn glory in battle. The brothers had even taken money from these men, so it wouldn't be fair to send one of them to face the potential danger alone.

But the question remained: who would be sent?

"Oh, that's right. The Griffin—Connington—he's one of Illyrio's men, isn't he?" Dotnere remarked, and his brother immediately agreed.

Connington was indeed loyal to Illyrio, and they both knew that Illyrio had hinted at using Connington in the most dangerous situations. This seemed like the perfect moment to test that loyalty.

When Connington received the mission, he accepted it willingly. His curiosity was piqued, wondering how Sunspear's forces had suddenly become so formidable. How had a mere 10,000 men managed to take Tyrosh? He entered the city with a small, nervous escort, determined to meet with Viserys in private. He intended to warn him that Illyrio's intentions were far from pure and that he might soon face treachery.

Meanwhile, the Myrish situation was less fraught. Cassius, the commander of Myr's fleet, entered Tyrosh with a few deputies, although he was uneasy. The people of Sunspear had been somewhat discourteous by not allowing the Myrish army into the city. Fearing the military might of Sunspear, Cassius could only focus on securing as much advantage for Myr as possible.

The old Windblown captain, Hoyt, had anticipated many moves. Relying on his years of experience, he had already stationed men at the southern port before capturing the Dragon's Flame Fortress. Consequently, he controlled both locations simultaneously. Leaving 300 to 500 men to guard the fortress, he led 3,000 men directly to Tyrosh.

As he approached the city and saw the Windblown banners fluttering over the castle, Hoyt paused, momentarily lost in thought. Then he let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Captain! Viserys has succeeded!" exclaimed his old comrade Denzo, his voice brimming with emotion. This meant Viserys was safe.

The captain nodded, joy welling up in his heart. Despite the lingering smell of smoke and burning, the scene before him appeared exceptionally bright and clear. The blue and white banners dotted the scorched earth like flowers blooming in blackened mud.

For the first time in history, a mercenary group was on the verge of owning its own territory.

'But wait! If a mercenary group controls territory, can it still be called a mercenary group? No, it becomes a warlord's domain—a hegemon.'

The realization struck Hoyt with both excitement and caution. He couldn't wait to see Viserys. With their cooperation, revenge seemed not just possible, but inevitable.

As soon as Hoyt entered the city, he found Meris waiting to greet him.

"Captain, Viserys told me to wait for you here. He said it was something important. It's about Pentos!"

"Pentos?" Hoyt's eyelids twitched. 'Was Viserys planning to wipe out the Pentosi army? That wouldn't do!'

Despite his desire for revenge, Hoyt knew that attacking an ally would be disastrous. It would destroy their credibility, leaving them isolated, with no one willing to cooperate with them in the future. Moreover, such an action would turn every neighboring power—Lys in the south, Sunspear in the west, and Myr in the north—against them. They would never be able to establish themselves in Tyrosh if they made enemies on all sides.

'Ah, young people are too eager!' Hoyt thought, believing that Viserys was rushing to consolidate power over the Windblown and then move on to Westeros. Young people often get carried away by the thrill of victory.

Determined to dissuade Viserys from such a rash and dangerous course of action, Hoyt quickened his pace, striding purposefully towards the palace. He had to stop Viserys from making a decision that could undo everything they had achieved.

Chapter 177: Attack on Pentos

At the top of the bell tower, Viserys, the Red Viper, and Connington stood overlooking the entire Tyrosh Palace. From their vantage point, they could see the remnants of battle—the corpses, severed limbs, and the flames and smoke that had not yet fully dissipated. Even from a distance, the brutality of the conflict was unmistakable. The palace grounds were littered with bodies—in the gardens, the square, the hall, even the fountain...

The bell tower itself had not been spared. Though the bodies of the fallen soldiers had been cleared away, the blackened bloodstains on the ground told of a fierce struggle.

This was the first time the Red Viper and Connington had met since the Usurper's War, and only the second time Viserys and Connington had crossed paths. Connington noted, with some surprise, that neither Viserys nor Oberyn appeared shocked to see him, as if they had known he would be there.

"Ser Connington, I like your blue hair," Viserys teased.

Connington, unbothered by the jibe, instead brought up the subject of Illyrio. However, the response was only a shared, contemptuous smile between Viserys and Viserys.

"My lord Hand of the King," said the Red Viper, placing his hand on Connington's shoulder, whether he welcomed it or not, "who do you think gave him his 'happy time'?"

Connington hesitated, confused. Illyrio had assured him that the Red Viper was a trustworthy ally, but now it seemed he was the one being played.

"You?" Connington asked tentatively.

"To be precise, it was us," the Red Viper replied, nodding toward Viserys. Connington turned to Viserys with a complicated expression, and after a long pause, he said, "Prince, you are very perceptive. If the late king and Prince Rhaegar had been like you, things might have been different." Seeing that his sincerity was not feigned, the Red Viper looked at Viserys and reassured him, "Don't worry, Viserys. Ser Connington remains loyal to the Targaryens."

Connington's face tightened, sensing that this encounter was a test. But after some thought, he conceded. After all, during the Usurper's War, it was he who had made the greatest blunders. He had indirectly caused Elia's death, and the Red Viper, in not seeking vengeance, had shown remarkable restraint.

"Prince, I wonder how you plan to deal with Illyrio?" Connington asked.

"Don't worry," Viserys replied. "I'm waiting for someone."

At that moment, Conwyra stepped forward and reported that the old captain had arrived. With Viserys's permission, the old captain was brought up. Upon seeing the Red Viper and Connington, the old captain hesitated, recognizing them as familiar faces. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword.

However, Viserys had no intention of making formal introductions. The appearance of Connington had sparked in Viserys the realization of a very advantageous opportunity.

After a brief greeting, Viserys turned to Connington and asked, "Ser Connington, how many soldiers remain in Pentos?"

"Soldiers? I believe there are about 3,000 left," Connington replied.

Viserys then shifted his gaze to the old captain. "Captain, the opportunity for revenge is here. I want to attack Pentos—now!"

"Huh?" The old captain's eyes widened in shock, and even the heavy bags under his eyes seemed to lift. Connington, too, thought he must have misheard. The Red Viper was momentarily stunned before a gleam of excitement lit up his eyes. He had thought taking Tyrosh was bold enough, but Viserys's ambition was proving to be far greater than anyone had anticipated.

"Take Pentos? Now?" Connington thought Viserys must be mad, but his instincts told him that now was indeed the perfect moment.

"What's the issue?" Viserys continued. "Pentos is defended by only 3,000 to 4,000 soldiers. With the agreement they have with Braavos, they don't even have many Unsullied left. I have over 700 Unsullied myself, 2,000 miner soldiers, and Windblown has more than 3,000 men. Prince Oberyn has brought 10,000 soldiers. We only need to deploy some elite forces and strike in secret—there's no need for a full frontal assault."

Connington swallowed hard.

The old captain's eyes, once full of melancholy, now shone with a renewed sense of purpose. 'Is the goal I've worked so hard for all these years really within reach?' he wondered. He still remembered that Viserys's original mission was simply to get Windblown out of trouble.

The Red Viper stared at Viserys as if he were looking at a monster. Had he not met Connington, such thoughts might never have crossed his mind, but now, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Of course," Viserys added, "if Ser Connington doesn't wish to proceed, or if any of you don't want to take the risk, I'll forget the whole thing."

Hoyt, the old captain, was more than willing. He was already sixty years old—a rare age in these times—and he had expected Viserys to merely engage the Pentos army stationed nearby. That alone would have been a significant opportunity. But now, Viserys's plan was far more daring, aimed directly at the heart of Pentos itself.

Slowly, the old captain nodded. "I think this plan is feasible."

All eyes then turned to Connington. He knew that this was Viserys giving him a chance to rejoin the Targaryen cause. After wandering for so many years, this was the moment he had longed for—a chance to serve the Targaryens and help them reclaim the Iron Throne.

Of course, he also hoped to restore his own family's fortunes. After the Usurper's War, House Connington had barely managed to keep its castle, with most of its lands granted to Robert's more loyal followers.

The goal was clear. The reward was in sight. As long as House Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne, Connington would never achieve his dreams. But with Viserys, there was hope.

"I'll take care of the fleet!" As Illyrio's agent, he had the authority to meet with the high-ranking officers of the Pentos army. All he needed was an excuse—a banquet or celebration—to lure the Pentos forces ashore. Then, they could launch their attack on Pentos like a Trojan horse.

As for the Red Viper, his temperament was perfectly suited for Viserys's plan, which promised a grand spectacle. "I've brought 10,000 men. Will 2,000 be too few? How about 5,000?" the Red Viper asked excitedly.

"Five thousand won't fit on the ships. Bring 1,500, as long as they're good men. Include the Unsullied and some from the Windblown. Three or four thousand will be enough. We're not planning to storm the city," Viserys replied.

Success! This was to be a surprise attack. As long as they could control the power of House Kurland and their vassal families, victory was assured. The old captain had no objections to being part of this "us." Alone, he couldn't conquer Pentos, but if he could achieve his goal of revenge and secure real power, he would have fulfilled his mission.

After everyone agreed, Connington suddenly spoke up. "Prince, I have one more request."

"Speak," Viserys said.

"If you're going to kill Illyrio, can you spare the child?"

"Little Aegon?" Viserys asked.

"Yes," Connington replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his request, as if all his courage had been spent on those few words. He was still the same Connington, unwilling to harm the innocent.

Hoyt didn't care, but the Red Viper was curious about Viserys's decision. This was, after all, the bloodline of Blackfyre—a name that had brought endless trouble to the Targaryens. Any other Targaryen would have executed him without hesitation.

Viserys smiled. "You're something else, Ser Connington. At the Battle of the Bells, you didn't want to harm the innocent, and you let Robert escape. That decision indirectly led to the deaths of my brother, Princess Elia, and her children. And now you want to make the same mistake?"

"Prince..." Connington began, but his voice trailed off.

At the mention of Elia, the Red Viper's mouth twitched, as if a snake struggling to restrain its venomous fangs. The deep-seated hatred in his heart flared to life. Connington looked at Viserys with a mix of pain and regret, realizing he had said something foolish.

Viserys leaned back, glancing at the faces around him—Connington, the Red Viper, the old captain. All eyes were on him, as if they were waiting for his verdict. Finally, after what seemed like a long consideration, Viserys spoke, almost as if in compromise.

"From today on, Little Aegon is your son," Viserys decreed, "born to you and a Blackfyre descendant. He has nothing to do with Illyrio. You'll explain it to him yourself. Don't call him Little Aegon or Little Griff—just call him Little Connington."

With those few words, Viserys sealed the fate of the Blackfyre bloodline.

"Thank you, Prince!" Connington knelt on one knee, choking back tears.

For centuries, the Targaryens and Blackfyres had been locked in conflict, with the Blackfyre bloodline continuously reproducing in the Free Cities of Essos. The Blackfyres weren't particular about lineage; whenever they were in the mood, they would sire more offspring. In terms of sheer numbers, they were even more prosperous than the Targaryens.

Killing one Blackfyre would only lead to another rising in his place. Therefore, Viserys concluded, it was far more strategic to use this opportunity to secure Connington's loyalty.

Not to mention that Little Aegon—no, he should now be called Little Connington—is only twelve. The fact that he risked his life to save Illyrio in the fire shows he has a good heart. With such a child under Connington's care, there's little fear that he will grow up twisted.

The most important reason for keeping "Little Aegon" alive is Viserys's intention to use him to manipulate the "Spider" Varys.

As long as "Little Aegon" lives, Viserys can align with Connington to play a long game against the spider. If Varys doesn't want his plans to crumble, he'll be forced to continue cooperating with Connington. Even under the weight of the "sunk cost," Varys will have no choice but to endure, no matter what suspicions arise.

With their concerns addressed, everyone began preparing. Manfrey and Dany were assigned key tasks, while Arianne and Jorah were to stay behind and secure Tyrosh. Meanwhile, Viserys, the Red Viper, Hoyt, and Connington led the fleet to Pentos, ready to strike.

"Dany," Viserys instructed, "tell the slaves that once Tyrosh is secured, they will be granted their freedom. Slaves make up the majority of Tyrosh's population, and if you can win them over, the city will be secure."

"Don't worry, brother. I'll handle it," Dany replied.

"And as for Manfrey," Viserys continued, "make sure that Tyrosh's best resources are firmly in our hands."

Viserys gently straightened Dany's hair. "We have more and more responsibilities now, and there are many times when I can't be with you. I have to rely on you."

Dany nodded earnestly, her expression a mix of nervousness and happiness.

Chapter 178: Where Did These Rebels Come From?

Connington sent word to the Dotnere and Lightnere brothers, informing them that Viserys was planning a grand banquet in their honor and inviting them aboard his ship. With Illyrio vouching for Viserys, the brothers were without suspicion. Connington, skilled in persuasion, easily convinced the soldiers to accompany Viserys and his party that night as they set sail for Pentos.

By the time the Pentos soldiers awoke from their drunken stupor, they found themselves under house arrest in their own camp. Meanwhile, Cassius of Myr was left behind in Tyrosh, with Manfrey assigned to keep him under control.

Viserys, the Red Viper, and the old captain divided the fleet into three, each one like a sword aimed at Pentos. Captain Hoyt's ship was positioned in the center. His gaze fixed on the northern horizon, as if he could see through the misty night to the city of Pentos—the city that had haunted his dreams for thirty years.

The hatred that had festered within him for decades was finally on the brink of release, yet as they drew closer to Pentos, Hoyt found himself growing unexpectedly calm. He remembered the news of his family's murder shortly after his flight from the city. For ten long years, Hoyt had been haunted by dreams of his slain relatives—some accusing him of cowardice, others expressing concern for his well-being.

For years, Hoyt had questioned whether he had done the right thing by fleeing. While Pentos had sacrificed only a prince during a drought, a voice deep within him insisted that he was a man, not a slave to be butchered at will. This belief sustained him, though it had grown faint with age—until Viserys reignited it with talk of "just revenge."

Now, Hoyt was convinced that his quest for vengeance was righteous. He had no reason to blame himself for defying the corrupt rules of Pentos. His mind was clear: the Berent family and their vassals—the beneficiaries of those rules—had to be utterly destroyed.

A face flashed through Hoyt's mind—that of a young man, Kurland, who had not yet become the head of House Berent when Hoyt left Pentos. He would never forget the smug look on Kurland's face when he came to Hoyt's home to announce that he would be the next prince. At the time, both men had loved the same woman, but despite House Berent's power, the girl had always favored Hoyt. He suspected that Kurland had a hand in him being chosen as Prince—a move that led to his exile. Two years after Hoyt's departure, Kurland married the girl.

Hoyt was determined to spare nothing in his assault on Pentos, except Kurland's head, which he vowed to take himself.

Due to the ongoing war in Tyrosh, the number of ships on the Narrow Sea route had significantly decreased. After nearly a week of sailing, the fleet arrived off the coast of Pentos in the early morning. As they neared the harbor, they saw the lighthouse extinguish its light—a signal that their arrival had been noticed.

Before the fleet could enter the harbor, they needed to send notice, during which time the city would enter a brief state of martial law. This meant that Viserys and his forces couldn't simply sail into the harbor unchallenged. They had to rely on Connington to gain entry and trick the city gates open.

Viserys, Connington, and the Red Viper, along with a ship full of elite soldiers, prepared to enter the harbor first and seize control of the city gates.

Aboard the ship were Caggo, Spider Webber, Beans Baqq, the two Gerrolds, and a force larger than the one Viserys had led against the pirates. With the exception of the Red Viper, who was simply along for the ride, everyone else had their own motives for wanting to take Pentos.

For these sellswords, the capture of Pentos promised another fortune. Viserys and Connington, however, were focused on a different prize: Illyrio's head. As Illyrio had told Viserys earlier, the dragon egg should have already reached Pentos. Now, Illyrio was more of a liability than an asset.

The group, who had been laughing and joking moments before, grew somber as the warship approached the harbor. The tall, imposing walls of Pentos loomed larger with every passing moment, casting long shadows that engulfed the crew.

Viserys, his voice steady, gave the order: "Let's begin."

...

The searing pain caused Illyrio to break out in a cold sweat. Though the burn wasn't life-threatening, it had severely diminished his quality of life. He could no longer enjoy his beloved cheese and had to rely on poppy milk each night to sleep. Yet, each morning, as the milk's effects wore off, the pain would return with a vengeance. He still couldn't fathom how his room had caught fire. In his weakened state, his mind conjured all sorts of fears, even dreaming of Viserys riding a black dragon and setting him aflame.

As he was about to drift off, a knock on the door interrupted him. A maid entered the room, which reeked of pus and herbs. Seeing her, Illyrio felt a small measure of relief. His son, Aegon, was with her.

"Uncle Illyrio, is the wound hurting again?" Aegon asked, concern in his voice.

Illyrio was comforted by his son's presence. "It's okay, it's... it's much better."

His once golden beard was gone, replaced by a disheveled, burned face marred with ugly scars that looked like mud caked onto his skin.

"I'm here to change your bandages," the maid said softly.

Illyrio nodded. He watched Aegon's busy figure with satisfaction. 'See, Serra, this is our child,' he thought. 'I swear I will place him on the Iron Throne and restore the Blackfyre bloodline to its rightful place!'

As he made this vow to himself, his thoughts drifted back to Viserys. The fallen prince's rise to power had been beyond his expectations—from winning the tournament to beheading the pirates and forging alliances. It was hard to believe this was the same man he once thought of as little more than a pawn. What irritated Illyrio most was how easily Viserys had dismissed the marriage alliance with the Horselord. 'Since you don't want to follow my plan,' Illyrio thought, his eyes flashing with murderous intent, 'I'll write you a new ending!'

If he could find a way to cripple Viserys, everything would still be within his control.

Just then, a servant burst into the room, panic written all over his face. "My lord, terrible news! A group of rebels has captured the city gates!"

"Rebels?! Where did these rebels come from?" Illyrio demanded, his anger flaring as the situation spiraled out of control.

Chapter 179: Great Timing, Waboh, Now Give Him the Right News

Pentos.

Berent Tower Residence.

Kurland awoke earlier than usual today. The sky outside the window was still dark, with night's shadows lingering, but he had no intention of returning to sleep. He stretched out his arm, now marked with brown age spots, and pulled the rope beside his bed. A crisp bell rang out beyond the window.

His personal attendant, Blane, entered the room, followed by three maids. One began to wash him, another prepared his clothes, and the third opened the windows to air out the room.

Blane spoke as the maids worked, "My lord, you have three appointments today: a meeting, a tour, and an audience. At breakfast, you'll meet with the head of House Monet. At noon, there's a house council meeting, and in the afternoon, you'll receive a merchant from Gulltown, accompanied by a lord."

Kurland considered this for a moment, then said, "Reschedule the meeting with House Monet for the afternoon along with the merchant from Westeros." He spread his arms, letting the maids clean him, while closing his eyes in thought. An uneasy feeling gnawed at him, as if something significant was on the horizon.

"Yes, my lord," Blane replied.

"Any news from the war in Tyrosh?" Kurland asked.

"None yet, my lord."

"And Viserys?"

"We don't have much information, but I heard he was in Tyrosh before the war and bought a mine."

Kurland opened his eyes, casting a dismissive glance at Blane before scoffing, "A mine? How impatient these young men are." In his mind, Viserys's actions were nothing more than petty attempts to seize assets early—a move Kurland saw as foolish and transparent. He was now utterly convinced that Viserys wouldn't dare make any bolder moves.

Just then, a commotion outside caught Kurland's attention, and he frowned. "What's happening out there?"

Blane peered out the window and recognized the source of the noise. "It's Waboh. He looks very anxious."

Waboh, a member of House Berent stationed in the west, primarily served as an informant and intermediary. Though he commanded a small force of about a hundred men, Kurland never expected him to engage in combat.

"No," Kurland muttered, his frown deepening. "If he's this desperate to see me, it must be something important."

"Let him in."

Waboh hurried into the room, a large bruise darkening his face.

"What happened to you?" Kurland demanded.

"The city gates, my lord! A group of rebels—Illyrio's men—they've taken control of the city!"

"Rebels? Calm down and tell me everything! How many are there?"

As Waboh relayed the situation, Kurland grew more confused. 'Sellswords? Illyrio's men? What a chaotic mess.' But when he heard that there were only 300 to 500 rebels, his tension eased.

"Only 300 to 500? What's the fuss about? Send out the guard and drive them off! Take my Unsullied with you!"

"Yes, my lord!" Waboh responded, turning to leave. But before he could exit, another scout burst into the room, even more disheveled, dust-covered, with a broken arrow protruding from his back.

"My lord, we're under attack! There are thousands of them—almost ten thousand! They've already breached the walls!"

Kurland felt a tremor of fear. "How many?"

The gravity of the situation hit him like a blow. Ten thousand men—a full-scale assault on Pentos. But one thing didn't add up: Where had this massive force come from? It was as if they'd materialized out of thin air. Westeros? But when had the lords of Westeros begun conspiring with his own people? This was completely unlike their usual tactics.

Kurland's mind raced, his composure unraveling. The man who thrived only when the winds were favorable now found himself exposed.

"My lord, we must flee through the tunnel!" Blane urged.

"Yes, my lord, let's escape through the tunnel!" Waboh, ever fearful of death, quickly agreed.

Kurland looked around the room. Blane and Waboh stared at him expectantly, while the maids trembled in fear. They were defenseless—if an army broke in, they could do nothing but submit.

Kurland hesitated. The thought of leaving meant abandoning his power, severing his ties to this place forever. Yet he still had a substantial fortune in the Iron Bank, and dying here would be a terrible waste. Even if he considered his family, their only chance of survival hinged on his escape.

Reluctantly, he made his decision.

"Go! Gather the Unsullied to escort us!"

"Yes, my lord!" Waboh and Blane responded in unison.

By the time Kurland received the news, Viserys and his forces had already captured half of Pentos's walls and seized control of the Pentos Palace. The outcome was all but decided. Many of the soldiers in Pentos were deeply in debt, using military service as a means to repay what they owed. When Viserys commanded his troops to fight, he shouted, "Drop your weapons, and your debts will be forgiven!"

The debt-ridden soldiers crumbled at the first sign of resistance, with some even pledging their allegiance to Viserys on the spot. It was estimated that the entire city of Pentos would fall within two hours.

"Webber! Webber!" Viserys called out to his nearby lieutenant.

"My lord!" Webber responded, his loyalty to Viserys unwavering. The changes Viserys had orchestrated in the past year were more profound than those of the previous decade.

"Take your battalion and support the captain. Kurland has escaped to the north with a hundred Unsullied. Be careful!"

"Yes, my lord!" Webber replied, and though Viserys was giving orders to another commander as if he were one himself, no one found it unusual. On the contrary, it felt natural, as if it were the most appropriate course of action.

This operation in Pentos was more akin to a coup d'état than a conventional battle—a strategic game of capturing strongholds, not merely cutting off heads. Viserys understood Hoyt's perspective, though. At sixty years old, even if Hoyt succeeded in taking Pentos, how many more years did he have left? For Hoyt, this was about vengeance, not conquest.

But Viserys had different ambitions. He wanted territory. To that end, he had even halted Connington, who was intent on capturing Illyrio, allowing them to take advantage of the situation to gain control over all the nobles in the city. House Berent and all those affiliated with them had to be completely subdued.

Of course, this didn't mean Illyrio would escape unscathed. Viserys ordered Regis to lead a group and take control of Illyrio's estate.

Chapter 180: Tywin’s Head Is Yours, Robert’s Is Mine

Pentos was the weakest of the nine Free Cities. Viserys and his forces had launched their attack in the early morning, and by noon, they had seized the palace and the homes of the great nobles. Hoyt had not yet returned from his pursuit of Kurland, leaving Viserys and the Red Viper to take control of the captured nobles in the palace hall.

Afterward, the two men made their way to a pool by the rockery in the palace gardens. Unable to stand the heat any longer, the Red Viper stripped off his armor and dove into the cool water. Although he was in his thirties, his body showed no signs of age—his olive skin was taut over well-defined muscles. Seeing the Red Viper so at ease, Viserys decided to follow suit, removing his armor and revealing his own lean, muscular frame.

"You're something else," the Red Viper remarked, feeling the water's refreshing coolness. "Did you plan all of this from the start?"

Viserys's bold actions had clearly impressed him. The prince had a knack for diving headfirst into dangerous situations and emerging unscathed.

"I didn't know Connington would be here," Viserys replied. "If I hadn't run into him, I wouldn't have thought of attacking Pentos."

"You're remarkable too," the Red Viper said, admiring Viserys's decisiveness. "You just decided to attack and went for it, without a moment's hesitation."

Most men would have basked in their victory after taking Tyrosh, savoring their success, but not Viserys. He hadn't even finished his meal before setting his sights on the next conquest. When the conditions were right, he acted. If they weren't, he created them. Hesitation, in his view, would only lead to failure, like Bittersteel.

"When the conditions are ripe, I act," Viserys continued. "If they're not ripe, I create them. Hesitate, and you'll end up like Bittersteel."

"You're far stronger than Bittersteel," the Red Viper observed, offering an honest assessment. He had originally intended to bring up the topic of a marriage alliance, but since Viserys hadn't mentioned it, he saw no reason to rush the conversation. Viserys had already caused a significant stir in the Free Cities, and it was clear he would do the same in Westeros.

"I've heard Robert spends his days eating, drinking, whoring, and sleeping," the Red Viper mused. "Perhaps it's time to give him something to worry about."

He also thought about The Reach. During the War of the Usurper, both Dorne and The Reach had been loyal to the crown, but after Robert took the throne, both regions were pushed to the periphery of power. Viserys's rise was sure to unsettle some, sparking conflict and intrigue in Westeros.

However, the Red Viper had his own concerns. King's Landing was a place where everyone had their own agenda, and even with all his skill, he might find himself constrained by the political machinations of the capital.

The Red Viper shared his concern with Viserys.

"So what if we don't have a position? Can we create one?"

"Create a position?" Oberyn repeated, wiping the water droplets from his face and looking intrigued.

"You can take some news about me with you when you go to King's Landing. Just apply for a... let's call it a 'foreign minister' role."

"Foreign minister?" The Red Viper asked, puzzled by the term. "But will Robert agree? And what about that old fox Arryn? He's not exactly easy to deal with."

Viserys leaned forward, a sly smile on his lips. "Do you know what a 'unified value' is?"

The Red Viper perked up, curious about this new concept.

"If I were a nobody," Viserys continued, "not only would I have failed to accomplish what I have, but I'd be treated like the Beggar King. Dorne and The Reach would always have another option. But now things are different. Robert, that licker pig, will have to give up some of his power to win you over. But how much is too much—that's for you to decide."

The Red Viper, quick-witted as ever, immediately grasped Viserys's point. "Licker pig?"

"Lyanna clearly doesn't like him, but he keeps trailing after her. What else could he be?"

The Red Viper burst into laughter. "A licker pig, that's perfect!"

At that moment, Webber and a knight from Dorne approached them. Webber spoke first, "Viserys, the captain has returned."

"Let's go," Viserys said, rising from the pool. "We'll discuss our next move together."

...

On the other side of the palace, Hoyt walked with a spring in his step. When he saw Viserys and the others, a smile flickered in his eyes. He felt as if he had been transported back to his youth—no, even further, to the vitality of a fifteen-year-old. In his hand, he carried a cloak, within which was wrapped a round object. There was no need to ask—it was Kurland's head.

"I hope that one day," Oberyn said, his voice filled with quiet resolve, "I'll be able to cut off the head of the Mountain just like that."

The Red Viper's eyes darkened with shared hatred. The death of Elia had festered in him for twelve long years. He had dreamed of this moment.

"You can also have Tywin's head, but I get Robert's," Viserys said, his tone sharp but teasing.

The Red Viper smiled grimly and replied, "That's right. Tywin's head is mine, and Robert's is yours."

When Viserys saw Hoyt approaching, he walked up to him with a smile and said, "Congratulations, Commander, on slaying your enemy!"

The mercenaries behind him echoed in unison, "Congratulations, Commander, on slaying your enemy!"

Hoyt's weathered face, lined with deep furrows, bloomed into a wide grin, and even the bags under his eyes seemed to shrink with the joy of victory.

"Let's go! We're heading to the Hall of the Sea and Land!" Hoyt declared.

"Long live the Prince!" Viserys shouted, raising his arms high.

"Long live the Prince!" the mercenaries chanted back.

"Long live the Prince!"

"Long live the Prince!"

For the first time in hundreds of years, Pentos had a Prince with real power. His name was Hoyt Stewart.

After his coronation, Hoyt quickly announced several decrees. The first was the abolition of the tradition of the "Prince's Sacrifice," a barbaric practice that had long been despised by the noble families and had been the ruin of Hoyt's own family. This so-called "legal" death threat against any disobedient prince was finally put to an end.

Next, Hoyt decreed the execution of all members of House Berent and their vassal families, the confiscation of their property, and the cancellation of their debts. This single act won him widespread support. House Berent and its vassals held at least 70% of the debts in Pentos, making them creditors not only to commoners but also to some of the weaker noble houses. With their debts erased, most of the city's inhabitants stood to benefit greatly from Hoyt's actions. After all, few would mourn the death of their creditors.

Hoyt then turned to the matter of power-sharing with the other noble houses of Pentos. These families would be essential in governing the city moving forward. How to distribute power and establish a fair system would require careful consideration.

After decades of fighting, Hoyt had few concrete ideas on how to proceed. So, he sought advice from Viserys.

"I want you to be the next Prince of Pentos," Hoyt said to Viserys, his tone serious and resolute.

Chapter 181: Three Dragon Eggs

"You're not joking, are you?" Viserys asked, his surprise evident.

Hoyt responded with a sly smile, explaining his reasoning. "I'm already 58 years old, and let's be honest, my best days are behind me. It's uncertain if I can even have a child at this age. And even if I did, I have no solid foundation to ensure they would reach adulthood in a few years..."

There was a touch of melancholy in the old captain's voice. His implication was clear: he would take on the role of prince for now, but when the time came, he would pass it on to Viserys, who would then pass it on to his own heir. This meant that, from this point forward, the Prince of Pentos would no longer be chosen from among the forty noble families but from the bloodlines of just two people.

Hoyt also revealed the practical reason behind his decision. "If you fail to restore your kingdom, ruling Pentos would be more than enough. And if you succeed, you won't be able to stay here forever. Pentos would benefit from having a solid alliance."

"When did you become so straightforward?" Viserys chuckled.

Hoyt grinned but didn't reply directly. Instead, he added, "By the way, I'll only recognize your bloodline and Dany's. I won't acknowledge the child of just any woman."

Viserys smiled, agreeing to Hoyt's proposal and conditions. The old captain was indeed a veteran, and his considerations were thorough. His stipulations were partly out of affection for Dany and partly to ensure Viserys remained firmly bound to Pentos.

Viserys had gone from being a king without land or subjects to wielding significant influence over three Free Cities—Pentos, Tyrosh, and Lys. What he lacked now was a unifying cause to bring these cities together. The Triarchy had once united the three cities of the Disputed Lands against Volantis, but without external pressure, the powerful families of the Free Cities wouldn't easily relinquish their power.

Moreover, convincing the three Free Cities to attack Westeros wouldn't be in their interest. Viserys had witnessed the Braavosi lords building a 'Nine Tower Manse' for Drogo and remembered a problem he had recognized when he first arrived in Tyrosh a year ago: the looming threat of a Dothraki invasion.

Viserys needed more than just the Free Cities. He needed vast, fertile lands to support his ambitions, and he couldn't allow the Dothraki to ravage the lands west of the Rhoyne. Drogo, the Horselord, wouldn't stand by as Pentos, once meek, suddenly joined a powerful alliance and slipped from his grasp. A war between Viserys and the Dothraki seemed inevitable within the next year or two, but Viserys saw this as an opportunity to promote the idea of a 'federation.'

The nomads relied heavily on the vast grasslands, and Viserys believed their combat effectiveness was not insurmountable. If he could kill Drogo, he could establish the Federation and consolidate power along the eastern coast of the Narrow Sea. By then, the Red Comet would have appeared, and he would use the blood of the Horselords to herald the rebirth of the dragons.

When Illyrio saw Viserys, Connington, and the Red Viper walk in together, he blinked, thinking he was seeing things.

"Father, Prince, Prince Viserys," Little Aegon greeted them as he tended to Illyrio at his bedside. Seeing Connington, his face lit up with joy.

Illyrio said, "Prince Viserys, Prince Oberyn, Con... Griff."

Viserys exchanged a brief glance with Connington before walking over to Little Aegon. "Come with me. I have something to tell you."

Little Aegon looked confused but remained polite. He turned to Illyrio and said, "Uncle, I'll be going now."

Illyrio's neck felt stiff, as if rusted, and he nodded with difficulty. He wanted to ask Connington what was happening, but Connington only stared at him coldly, his eyes sharp as swords, making Illyrio's heart tremble. A sense of foreboding gripped him, and even the headband he wore seemed to quiver slightly.

Illyrio first looked at Viserys, who returned his gaze with a blank expression. Then he glanced at the Red Viper, who stood behind Viserys with a devilish smile, as if he were watching an amusing spectacle, ready to reveal his fangs at any moment. At one point, Illyrio even imagined their pupils had turned vertical, like those of serpents—one ready to spit fire, the other venom.

"Princes," Illyrio began, forcing himself to remain calm, "shouldn't you be in Tyrosh?"

"I missed you," Viserys replied with a mocking smile. "So I came to see you."

"Pffft—" The Red Viper couldn't contain his laughter.

Illyrio's smile froze as he realized they were toying with him. Anger flared within him. "You... you already know?"

"Know what?" Viserys asked, feigning ignorance.

"Know that I've been playing you and your sister like chess pieces!" Illyrio's eyes gleamed with a flicker of his old pride, a reminder of the ruthless killer he had once been before years of luxury dulled his edge.

"Playing with me?" Viserys's voice was sharp. "You're about to be outplayed."

"The fire that day..." Illyrio's mind raced, piecing it together. "But you—"

"Don't bother," Viserys cut him off. "It's all irrelevant now. Tell me how you're connected to the Spider, and I'll make your death quick."

Illyrio's eyes widened. "Can you at least tell me when you found out about us?"

"What good will that do you now?" Viserys replied coolly. "Cooperate, and I might let Aegon live."

Viserys's words struck Illyrio with terror. He couldn't fathom how Viserys had uncovered this secret. Only he and Varys were supposed to know. Could Varys have betrayed him? But if that were the case, Viserys wouldn't need to ask for Varys's contact information.

Realizing he had been exposed, Illyrio glanced at the Red Viper. He had even urged him to kill Viserys. Now, in the Red Viper's eyes, he must have looked like a fool.

"Promise me to let me see my child one last time," Illyrio pleaded.

"He's Connington's child now. If you want him to live, keep your mouth shut."

"I promise, I won't say a word," Illyrio responded, the resignation in his voice palpable. Years of careful planning, more than a decade of scheming, had all crumbled to nothing. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to divulge his conspiracy with Varys.

"Were you involved in the gradual change in my father's mind?" Viserys asked, his tone sharp.

"I don't know," Illyrio replied, shaking his head. "I don't think so. Varys mentioned it in his letters to me—he was as surprised by the change in Your Grace as anyone."

Viserys felt a chill at Illyrio's words. He had always suspected that his father's decline was linked to Varys. The idea that the Targaryens carried a genetic predisposition for madness was something he outright rejected. After all, during the Valyrian era, the Targaryens had ruled for thousands of years without such problems. How could so many issues arise in just a few hundred years in Westeros?

With Varys seemingly ruled out, Viserys began to wonder if the Three-Eyed Raven was behind it all.

"Can I see the child now?" Illyrio asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Viserys didn't bother giving him instructions on what to say—Illyrio should know better. Meanwhile, young Aegon, who had just learned his "true identity," was struggling with the revelation. He could never have imagined that the uncle he loved was the very person who had destroyed his "family."

"He used you as leverage to force your own father to serve him," Viserys said gently, trying to comfort the boy. "But now that we've destroyed House Berent, he has no one left. You can finally live with your father again."

This was the lie they had carefully prepared in advance. The "truth" was that Illyrio had taken Aegon's mother, Serra, from Connington, and blackmailed him into serving by threatening to expose Serra's and Aegon's true identities.

Aegon, smart beyond his years, turned to the Red Viper for confirmation. "Yes, Ser Connington was indeed Hand of the King," the Red Viper said, eager to support the narrative, with just a hint of truth in his words.

Aegon remained silent for a long moment, absorbing the weight of the revelation. Then, with sudden resolve, he drew his sword and knelt before Viserys. "Prince Viserys, thank you for saving me and my father. I will do whatever it takes, even if it means giving my life, to help you ascend to the Iron Throne!"

Viserys smiled, extending a hand to help him up. "First, learn from your father. When you become a true warrior, then you can serve me."

Though only ten years old, Aegon was already over 1.6 meters tall. He looked up at Viserys with deep admiration, his eyes reflecting the awe he felt for the man who had become one of his idols.

Viserys glanced at Connington, and the understanding passed between them silently. From that moment on, there would be no more Young Griff, no more Little Aegon—only a little Connington.

With the matter of Little Connington settled, Viserys turned his attention to Illyrio, who confirmed what Viserys had long suspected: he and Varys had indeed intercepted the Targaryen wealth at the Iron Bank—a staggering 700,000 gold dragons!

No mere killer could have amassed such a fortune in just over a decade. The revelation of this vast wealth only fueled Viserys's anger. He remembered the miserable life he and Dany had led, scraping by in exile. But then his eyes drifted to the three dragon eggs, their presence slowly calming his fury.

Three dragon eggs.

Chapter 182: Give Me a Dragon Egg

[Upon touching the dragon egg, gain 25.3 attribute points...]

[Upon touching the dragon egg, gain 28.6 attribute points...]

[Upon touching the dragon egg, gain 24.4 attribute points...]

The dragon eggs from the Shadow Lands were far more potent than Viserys had anticipated. Their shells, crafted from glass and enamel, resembled large gemstones at first glance, with colors that matched the descriptions from the original stories. The black egg, which would eventually hatch Drogon, looked like obsidian, with a scaly pattern and dark red swirls. It was cold to the touch and heavy in weight. The second egg was a deep green with bronze spots, while the third was milky white with silver and gold streaks.

According to one theory, dragons originated from the Shadow Lands, and these three eggs had also been obtained by Illyrio from that mysterious region. Perhaps the magic there was more concentrated. Whether that was true or not, Viserys would find out when he consulted with Shiera.

The Red Viper, however, wasn't concerned with such details. He simply asked, "Viserys, can I have one?"

Viserys paused for a moment before replying, "Of course, pick one."

The Red Viper was taken aback by how readily Viserys agreed. He clearly remembered Viserys being intent on collecting dragon eggs. Why, then, was he so willing to give one away? Was it out of gratitude for Dorne's strength, or perhaps to thank him personally?

"I want this one," the Red Viper said, locking eyes with Viserys, as if worried the offer might be rescinded.

Viserys met his gaze and asked, "Are you sure? Once you choose, there's no going back."

"Of course," the Red Viper replied, though a bit puzzled.

"You can have it," Viserys said, "but leave it with me for now. I'm working on my fire magic and need the egg's assistance."

Hearing this, the Red Viper hesitated. After weighing the pros and cons, he reluctantly handed the dragon egg back to Viserys, who calmly placed it alongside the others in a brocade box.

Viserys knew he couldn't outright refuse his request to share the dragon eggs, nor could he afford to hesitate. The Red Viper was clever and far from a gentleman. Once he sensed an advantage, he would likely push for more. It was better to shut down the conversation before it escalated. While Viserys desired the dragon eggs, his priority was mastering fire magic—something far more impressive to show off.

So, Viserys concocted a plausible lie to placate him, without any guilt. Given their complex relationship and the scheming that defined it, complete honesty between them was out of the question. A limited amount of truth would suffice.

After all, Viserys had saved Doran from the torture of constant gout attacks, in return, had gained a valuable secret about his daughter. The Red Viper, in turn, had no intention of being fully transparent with Viserys either.

The two of them wandered through Illyrio's treasure room once more, taking in the array of exquisitely crafted garments made from luxurious materials. However, the style of the clothes was distinctly Dothraki, reminding them of the annual tributes that the merchants and magistrates of Pentos paid to the Horselord. It seemed that these well-dressed fools were due to make their offerings again.

As Viserys scanned the room, something caught his eye in a corner—a pure gold collar. It was more of a shackle than a collar, and as he picked it up, a memory surfaced. In the original tale, when Daenerys was bathing, Illyrio's maid had mentioned that the Horselord even adorned his slaves with gold shackles. When the Mother of Dragons was married, she wore a gold collar—a cruel symbol of her fate. At that time, the Horselord likely viewed Dany, not yet the powerful Mother of Dragons, as nothing more than a high-class slave.

As the Red Viper continued to browse, a sharp, grating sound suddenly filled the air. He turned to see its source and realized it was coming from Viserys. Just as he was about to approach, Conwyra entered the room.

"Prince, Commander Hoyt wants to see you," Conwyra announced.

"I know. Keep a close watch here. Don't let so much as a fly get in," Viserys replied, his voice simmering with barely contained anger. He regretted letting Illyrio die so easily.

"Yes, my lord!" Conwyra responded.

As Viserys left, the Red Viper glanced back and noticed a large gold ball, roughly the size of a sandbag, casually tossed aside. Deep fingerprints were clearly visible in the metal. Viserys's actions left the Red Viper puzzled.

...

Meanwhile, at the newly cleared Prince's Palace, Hoyt faced his first diplomatic challenge since taking power.

During past conflicts over territory between Pentos and Braavos, Pentos had suffered four losses and one draw. As a result, Braavos had imposed harsh terms, limiting Pentos to only the military forces necessary for maintaining law and order and defending the city, and restricting them to no more than twenty warships. This left Pentos's military strength severely crippled.

Now, the Braavosi ambassador was insisting that this treaty be honored even after the change in leadership. Neither Hoyt nor Viserys could accept such conditions. Viserys, in particular, found it unacceptable—Pentos, as the Free City closest to King's Landing, needed far more than twenty ships and a small army if it was to serve as a springboard for deterring King's Landing and possibly launching an attack on Westeros.

However, Viserys couldn't help but admire the Braavosi's audacity. Less than two days after the city changed hands, they had the nerve to show up and demand guarantees for their interests. This boldness highlighted the challenges that lay ahead for Viserys. Unifying the Triarchy—or even expanding it to include Pentos—was no small task. Internal dissent would need to be managed, and external forces like Braavos and Volantis would certainly resist the emergence of a powerful alliance. The Horselords loomed on the horizon, eyeing the grasslands, and the Iron Throne's Master of Ships, Stannis II Lannister, still commanded a formidable fleet. Then there was Tywin Lannister's Westerlands, also boasting a powerful navy.

Building up his own territory from scratch was going to be a monumental task.

When Viserys arrived at Hoyt's palace, he was met with an unexpected sight—a familiar face: Jalifah! Jalifah was the captain of House Zalyne, the man who had outmaneuvered Viserys in Braavos by playing the role of the mantis to Viserys's cicada, with the bird in the shadows.

Upon seeing Viserys, Jalifah was equally surprised. The cold, tense standoff with Hoyt suddenly dissipated. Both men were taken aback by the encounter.

"Viserys?" Jalifah asked tentatively, still unsure if the man before him was truly who he thought.

Hoyt and the Red Viper were both caught off guard, especially the Red Viper, who was beginning to realize that Viserys seemed to have acquaintances everywhere. Hoyt felt a glimmer of hope—if Viserys and Jalifah were on good terms, perhaps the Braavosi would be willing to ease their demands. After all, who in their right mind would willingly surrender so much wealth every year to those savages? A strong military was essential to breaking free from such burdensome obligations.

"This is Prince Oberyn of Dorne," Viserys introduced. "Oberyn, this is my friend from Braavos." Jalifah was surprised by the identity of the Red Viper but showed no signs of intimidation.

After the introductions, Viserys asked, "Weren't you with Roth's fleet? How did you end up here as an envoy?"

Now certain that he was speaking to Viserys, Jalifah's guarded demeanor softened, and he opened up like an old friend.

"This is all thanks to you!" Jalifah exclaimed.

"Me?" Viserys asked, surprised.

Jalifah explained that he had been given this relatively easy assignment because, a few months ago, Viserys had taken out the notorious pirates. With the seas now safer, the Narrow Sea route had become significantly more secure, allowing Roth to place Jalifah in a more strategic position and assign younger, less experienced men to escort merchant ships.

Though Jalifah didn't know why Viserys was in Pentos, his instincts told him that Viserys would play a crucial role in the upcoming negotiations. There was something different about him—a deadly aura, the kind that only someone who had taken the lives of many could exude. Jalifah's intuition was spot-on. Viserys had personally killed nearly 500 enemies when he took out Rovi's ships, not to mention the countless foes he had slain on the battlefield.

Despite this, Jalifah maintained his stance: the agreement between Pentos and Braavos should remain unchanged. Hoyt and the Red Viper turned their eyes to Viserys, waiting for his response.

But instead of agreeing or refusing, Viserys pivoted, asking about the current situation in Braavos, particularly the status of House Zalyne and House Fregar.

"Lord Roth is doing well, and young Viserys is in good health," Jalifah replied.

"A boy?" Viserys inquired.

"Yes, and Lady Methys is pregnant again. The High Septon says it's a girl this time, and they plan to name her Daenerys."

Viserys listened carefully, understanding the implications. Braavos was now largely under the control of House Zalyne and the Sealord's House of Antaryon. With his influence extending across three Free Cities, Viserys knew he had the power to significantly affect the balance of power in Braavos. He also realized that it was pointless to waste time with unnecessary pleasantries.

"Here's what we'll do," Viserys said decisively. "I'll write a letter to Lord Roth, and you can deliver it. We'll discuss the terms after that."

Jalifah recognized the need to give Viserys the respect he was due and agreed without pushing further. The situation in Pentos was temporarily stabilized, but Viserys knew he had to hurry back to Tyrosh to deal with the aftermath there.

Chapter 183: If My Brother Ever Needs a Paramour…

The smoke of war had dissipated, leaving behind a faint scent of lime in the air. The sky over Tyrosh had returned to a clear, bright blue, signaling the end of bloodshed and fire. But even as the city began to heal, life had to go on.

Manfrey, who had stayed behind in Tyrosh, was eager to secure more benefits for Sunspear. Although looting slaves was out of the question, he hoped to bring back valuable goods or skilled craftsmen. However, Dany, known as the Young Mother to the freed slaves, held the most valuable parts of Tyrosh firmly in her grasp, with the 500 Unsullied left by Viserys and the three battalions under the old commander ensuring her control. If Manfrey wanted to challenge her hold, he would have to drop his pretense of cooperation.

Recognizing that seizing Tyrosh had been an unexpected victory, Manfrey decided it was best to wait for Viserys's return before negotiating the distribution of spoils. In the meantime, he took responsibility for the city's defense. But that didn't mean he was idle. Despite House Martell's reputation for being hot-blooded, they were also known for their cunning.

At Manfrey's urging, Arianne spent nearly every day by Dany's side, tirelessly promoting her younger brother, Quentyn, as a potential match. During this time, Dany had to endure Arianne's relentless chatter while assessing the damage Tyrosh had suffered.

"Prince Dany, Quentyn is truly a remarkable young man," Arianne would insist. "Even Ser Barristan has praised his skill and character!"

Ser Barristan the Bold, whose reputation for honor and virtue spanned the Seven Kingdoms, was the embodiment of the knightly spirit. Arianne, of course, was exaggerating Quentyn's virtues. In truth, Barristan had never praised Quentyn's martial prowess; he had merely acknowledged that Quentyn was a decent young man. Arianne's enthusiasm stemmed from her awareness of the secret marriage pact between the Targaryens and the Martells.

Knowing she was destined to marry Viserys, Arianne was less concerned with securing her position as heir to Sunspear and more focused on strengthening the bond between their houses. Viserys had already informed Dany of the marriage pact, and after all they had been through together, Dany needed no further explanation.

Still, Dany found Arianne's constant promotion of Quentyn a bit tiresome. Trying to maintain a polite demeanor, she replied, "Princess Arianne, it sounds like Prince Quentyn is indeed a fine young man, but can we discuss this later? Many people in Tyrosh are hungry, and we need to ensure everyone is fed first."

Having endured hardships alongside Viserys, Dany understood the pain of hunger all too well and felt deep sympathy for the common people. Viserys had also impressed upon her the importance of controlling the food supply, knowing that whoever controlled the food would control Tyrosh.

However, Dany's attempt to deflect the conversation didn't have the desired effect. Arianne responded dismissively, "I really don't understand why people would do anything for a mere mouthful of food. Isn't there more to life than eating?"

Dany's expression grew serious, the polite smile she had been maintaining fading. "Princess Arianne, not everyone in this world is born a princess. For most people, survival comes first."

Meris and Kyla, who had shared similar hardships with Dany, felt their already low opinion of the Dornish princess drop further. Arianne, sensing the shift in the room's mood, merely shrugged. She had never known hunger and was indifferent to Dany's words. But having grown up in the aristocracy, she was keenly aware of others' emotions and could tell that Dany wasn't enthusiastic about the proposed marriage alliance.

Still, Arianne didn't care. She was more than satisfied with the idea of marrying Viserys. This 'sister-in-law's' attitude didn't bother her much. But then a realization struck her—Targaryens traditionally married within their own family. 'Could Dany harbor ambitions to marry Viserys herself?' The thought of her sister-in-law becoming a rival suddenly sparked a sense of urgency in Arianne.

Pressing on, she said, "Princess, you must realize that without the fleet from Sunspear, the attack on Tyrosh wouldn't have been so successful. If Viserys is to reclaim the Iron Throne, he needs a strong enough ally!"

Dany stopped what she was doing and turned to face Arianne, the tension between them thickening the air.

"And alliances come at a price," Arianne added pointedly.

Dany, though clever, wasn't one for deep political maneuvering, and she had already reached the limit of her patience with Arianne. She decided not to engage in a debate over who played the most crucial role in the capture of Tyrosh. Instead, she changed the subject entirely. "Alright, I understand. If my brother ever needs a paramour, I'll make sure you're first in line."

With that, Dany turned and left, taking Meris and Kyla with her, leaving Arianne behind, shaking with anger.

Arianne wanted to retort but couldn't find the words. Dany had subtly asserted the Targaryen superiority over House Martell. While the two Targaryens might still be relatively weak, it was clear that once Tyrosh was fully under their control, their power would surge. The alliance between Targaryen and Martell had grown beyond a simple marriage contract; it was now about shared political ambitions.

The magic Viserys had promised, Doran's gout-ridden condition—Viserys and Dany now held more cards and had more options. House Martell would be overreaching to expect more than one marital alliance. With all the commotion in the Free Cities, House Tyrell in Highgarden couldn't afford to remain indifferent. The frequent tensions between The Reach and Dorne only added to the complexity.

Dany was also aware of Viserys's efforts to hatch dragons and firmly believed they would return. In her mind, the Targaryens didn't need to share their future success with too many others. This belief fueled her firm stance.

But Arianne was not one to back down easily. Prideful as ever, she resolved to stay in Tyrosh after the war, determined to compete with Dany on her own terms.

...

Dotnere and Lightnere sat in a dark room, staring at each other, the silence between them thick with tension. As time dragged on, the brothers' unease grew into a gnawing despair. They were captives now, with no sign of the warship that had once been their escape. Whether Pentos fell or not, their fates seemed sealed—death if the city was lost, or life as bargaining chips if it wasn't.

"Why do you think the Griff is attacking Pentos?" Lightnere asked, his voice laced with confusion. "We've never even seen him before, have we?"

Dotnere, growing impatient, replied, "How should I know? Maybe he's using an alias. The old man has plenty of enemies."

What Dotnere didn't reveal was that he had secretly stashed a significant sum of money for Kurland in the Iron Bank. If things spiraled out of control, he planned to use the money to buy his freedom. But he couldn't shake the nagging doubt—how could he ensure that the enemy would let him go after getting the money?

Meanwhile, in Tyrosh, besides Manfrey, the busiest person was Feles. He knew Viserys had gone to Pentos, but the exact reasons remained unclear. However, with the Pentos army detained and their warships seized, it was obvious what was happening. Such a bold move inevitably sparked panic among their "allies."

Just days earlier, Myr had sent someone to report on the situation, and they had even begun reaching out to the Golden Company. With tensions rising, all Feles could do was support Manfrey while keeping Myr's Cassius and the two men who had arrived two days ago under close watch.

Cassius, fully aware of Manfrey's detention of the Pentos army, was understandably on edge. He refused to leave his fleet for even a moment, maintaining constant communication with Myr. Fortunately for him, he believed that Feles was just as in the dark as he was, and Feles made a point of visiting him nearly every day.

"The leader of the Windblown is truly remarkable. He seized the perfect opportunity to strike at Pentos," Cassius remarked.

"Yes, and he managed to bring House Martell on board. It seems he's determined to take Pentos," Feles agreed, though privately, he suspected this bold move had Viserys's hand all over it. Still, the sheer audacity of the strategy made it hard to believe.

"Lord Feles, I have a proposal," Cassius interjected, shifting the conversation.

"It's been over ten days since the leader of the Windblown left. Whether or not Pentos has fallen, he should be returning soon. I believe we should form an alliance."

Cassius was quick to grasp that whatever the outcome, Pentos would no longer be a major player at the table. With the Windblown already allied with Sunspear, he knew he needed to secure his own alliances quickly.

Feles's interest was piqued, and he responded, "Your proposal is timely. I will inform Lys of this development."

Feles understood the situation clearly. Pentos and Myr had contributed little to the battle for Tyrosh, which had been won largely due to the slave army organized by Viserys. Under these circumstances, Viserys would be reluctant to concede much of the spoils. But Feles couldn't make such decisions on his own, so he needed to buy time.

Cassius, sensing the necessity of forming an alliance, suggested, "Why don't we arrange a meeting with Prince Tregar tonight?"

Feles, having already pledged his loyalty to Viserys, knew he couldn't allow this "alliance" to take shape. However, outright refusal would risk revealing his true allegiance. As he pondered how to delay things further, one of Cassius's guards entered and announced, "My lord, the Windblown and Sunspear armies have returned. They request your presence at the palace."

Chapter 184: Four Daughter’s Kingdom, “Confederation”

Cassius was hesitant about Viserys's invitation, especially given that they had just attacked their so-called "allies." Reluctant to fully engage, he decided to send only his deputy in his place. Feles understood the caution; after all, Myr was already on edge.

The atmosphere within the victorious coalition was tense. Manfrey carefully managed the city, which felt like a powder keg ready to explode. With nearly 30,000 troops, 20,000 prisoners, and over 30,000 slaves who had just witnessed bloodshed, it was as if he was sitting on a pile of highly explosive gunpowder that could ignite with the slightest spark. The only thing keeping the situation under control was the 10,000 troops at his disposal, which he used to coordinate and suppress potential unrest as much as possible.

Fortunately, Viserys and Dany's popularity among the slaves provided a reliable ally in this delicate situation. The armies of Myr and Pentos were confined to the harbor and their camp, keeping tensions from boiling over. The Lyseni were no less ambitious; having taken an island, they were eager to seize the main island of Tyrosh as well. Manfrey felt like a juggler trying to keep six or seven plates spinning at once, and he hadn't slept well in over two weeks.

But no matter how exhausting the task, he knew he had to shoulder it. Doran's health had improved, allowing him to take over day-to-day administration. If Manfrey didn't prove his worth now, he might never get another chance to wield power.

Greenguts, with his distinct pink bald head, reported to him, "Ser Manfrey, Prince Oberyn and Prince Viserys have returned."

Manfrey's anxiety was palpable as he asked, "Did they succeed?"

"Yes," Greenguts replied excitedly. "They've successfully taken Pentos!"

"That's good. Let's go see them," Manfrey said, finally allowing himself a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, the military port was filled with laughter and celebration. The surprise attack on Pentos had been a lucrative success, and the old commander generously rewarded his men. As Regis watched Viserys and the Red Viper descend from the warship, one thought filled his mind—two cities in just twenty days! Such an accomplishment was truly impressive.

He felt that the thirty years of his life before meeting Viserys paled in comparison to the less than two years he had spent under his command. At this pace, the Iron Throne seemed almost within reach. Spider Webber and the Windblown shared the same sentiment; they had decided to follow Viserys to the end. Even if it meant dying on the way to the Iron Throne, they would still be remembered as part of a legend.

Viserys, however, wasn't thinking that far ahead. He was deep in conversation with the Red Viper, discussing his plans for the Four Daughter's Kingdom.

"You want to rebuild the Triarchy?" Red Viper asked.

"The Four Daughter's Kingdoms, to be precise," Viserys corrected.

"What's the difference? Aren't you still aiming for the Iron Throne?" Red Viper's primary concern was the interests of Sunspear and Dorne. Viserys had discussed his plans with him on their journey, including the agreement that after the battle, Sunspear would station 1,000 men in Tyrosh, with Viserys responsible for provisioning them. But the core interests of House Martell lay in Dorne and Westeros. If Viserys lost sight of his ambition, it would be a significant setback for them as well.

"How could I lose my ambition?" Viserys reassured him. "Didn't we agree to kill Tywin and Robert together?"

After calming the Red Viper, Viserys continued, "Prince Oberyn, if the Long Night were to fall tomorrow, how long would Dorne's food supplies last?"

"The Long Night? Why bring that up now?" Red Viper asked, full of skepticism.

"I'm not talking about a long winter," Viserys replied, meeting Red Viper's gaze and enunciating each word carefully. "I mean the Long Night."

"But we're still in the middle of summer, and autumn hasn't even come yet. How could you know when even the Maesters can't predict it?" Despite his doubts, a chill ran down Red Viper's spine at Viserys's words. He had experienced winter twice, and because Dorne was in the southernmost part of Westeros, the impact had been minimal. But the Long Night was different—legendary and terrifying.

The Long Night, if it came, would bring an endless, frigid darkness, a time when nothing would grow, and White Walkers would roam the land. It would last for a generation until a hero emerged to end it. Though these stories were often dismissed as myths, coming from Viserys, who had already shown him many wonders, the Red Viper couldn't help but take the warning seriously.

"You may be skeptical about my prophecy," Viserys continued, "but this year is 296 AC, and next year the Citadel will announce the arrival of autumn. Dorne must stockpile as much grain as possible. That is my advice."

Red Viper nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll take your advice back to Prince Doran."

Then, realizing something, he asked, "Is that why you want to establish a kingdom? To grow grain?"

"No," Viserys replied, shaking his head. "Now is not the time for us to reclaim the Iron Throne."

It was still a year before the events of A Song of Ice and Fire would begin. At this time, the alliance of the "stag, wolves, falcons, and fish" remained strong, with Jon Arryn alive and well at the helm. Ned Stark was still dutifully managing his responsibilities, even spending time with Catelyn every few days.

Viserys, however, was looking beyond the present, preparing for the Long Night that he believed was coming. He wanted to use the year or so before the War of the Five Kings to build his strength as much as possible. Once Jon Arryn and Ned were dead, he planned to march into Westeros with his army, ensuring that the realm retained enough vitality to survive the impending darkness.

But for now, Viserys knew he was still too weak to control Tyrosh alone. His ambitions extended beyond Tyrosh—he aimed to control the entire Stepstones and the Disputed Lands. As for the concept of a "confederation," the Red Viper found it difficult to grasp, let alone comprehend its purpose. Despite his reservations, he was drawn to Viserys's vision and, if given a choice, would rather stay by Viserys's side to witness the birth of this so-called "confederation" than venture to King's Landing.

...

In the Throne Hall of Tyrosh Palace, representatives from all sides had gathered. Hoyt, unable to leave Pentos, sent Denzo in his place. Denzo wasn't there to negotiate for more benefits—he had already gained plenty from the spoils of House Berent. His presence was more of a formality, signaling to everyone that Pentos now had a new master. He also intended to bring the Pentos soldiers back with him.

Tregar and Feles of Lys had arrived early. As Tregar watched a tall man leading a group of soldiers in charge of security, he felt a shiver run down his spine. For some reason, Jorah Mormont seemed even more imposing than before. The despondency that had clung to him after abandoning Lynesse had been replaced with a commanding presence, his tall stature and House Mormont's genetics making him tower nearly a head above most men. His long experience in battle had also given him a palpable aura of menace.

Enemies meeting face to face rarely manage to hide their animosity, and Jorah was no exception. He glared coldly at Tregar, his expression a mix of contempt and suppressed fury. Though Jorah longed to kill Tregar, he knew better than to jeopardize Viserys's plans.

Tregar, sensing the tension and aware that he had wronged Jorah in the past, decided to make the first move. "Lord Mormont, it's been a long time."

Tregar knew that while Jorah might not yet be his equal, he was one of the first to pledge loyalty to Viserys. There was no telling how far Jorah might rise in the future. It was better to mend old wounds before they festered.

Jorah stared at him icily, his every instinct urging him to strike, but he restrained himself. He wouldn't let personal grudges derail Viserys's carefully laid plans.

Jorah had come to a conclusion: Lynesse was a bitch not worth his regret. She had cost him his inheritance of Bear Island, driving his father to join the Night's Watch prematurely so Jorah could take over as Lord. The guilt he felt over this betrayal haunted him, but he realized that Lynesse was the kind of woman who chased wealth, and he was better off without her.

"Lord Tregar," Jorah replied curtly.

Tregar felt a flicker of relief. If Jorah was willing to respond, there was hope for reconciliation. "I've heard much about your exploits against the pirates and your success at Dragon's Flame Fortress. I wonder if you'd allow me the honor of hosting a banquet in your name?"

"No need for a banquet," Jorah responded, his voice cold. "Just make sure you return my ship."

Jorah's words, delivered with his head slightly bowed so that shadows obscured his face, sent a shiver through Tregar. Jorah had already resolved to leverage the situation for his benefit, and Tregar realized he couldn't simply return the ship empty. He would have to offer Jorah something better—perhaps an upgraded ship, filled with lavish gifts.

As Lys's representative, Tregar's demands included a return to the pre-war status quo with Tyrosh. He wanted to see the Stepstones and the two lakes divided equally and hoped to reclaim Dragon's Flame Fortress. He even suggested replacing the previous permanent contract with a monetary payment—a request that could only be described as fanciful. Viserys, of course, would never agree to such terms and would consider it a victory if Tregar managed to secure even one of those concessions.

Myr's Cassius, on the other hand, only sent a deputy. Their main goal was to quietly withdraw from the alliance and secure a transit port, avoiding the fate that had befallen Pentos. Sunspear, having already reaped substantial rewards, was not pressing for further gains.

Meanwhile, Dany and Arianne had arrived early, but Viserys was conspicuously absent. The two women had completely severed their relationship, and despite entering the hall together, they sat apart. Arianne couldn't hide her displeasure as she watched the crowd gather around Dany, her expression dark and stormy. But when a voice from outside called a name, her mood brightened instantly.

"Prince Viserys is here!" the herald announced.

Chapter 185: Viserys’s Dragon Robe

The Great Hall of Tyrosh had never seen such a mix of subtlety and power. The room was filled with dark-haired nobles, yet the presence of those gathered could only be described as formidable—local giants who wielded considerable influence.

"Prince Viserys is here..." The courtier's announcement at the entrance signaled the arrival of Viserys, flanked by Connington and Regis, as they entered the hall.

Viserys had donned a black robe adorned with a large red three-headed dragon emblem emblazoned across his back. He favored this "dragon robe," finding it both solemn and commanding—a garment fit for someone intent on dominating the world.

Standing nearly 1.9 meters tall in his boots, Viserys wore the robe with ease, his presence commanding the room's attention the moment he appeared. To the Red Viper, Viserys bore some resemblance to Rhaegar, but with a key difference—where Rhaegar had a noble air, Viserys exuded a raw, domineering energy. It was the mark of a true conqueror, the aura of a king in the making.

Denzo, observing Viserys, saw a level of self-confidence that reminded him of Commander Hoyt—a sense of ownership over the space, like a lion king patrolling his domain. Tregar and Feles also noticed the change in Viserys, recognizing a newfound authority in him.

Arianne and Dany were captivated, their gazes fixed on Viserys. Arianne, in particular, found herself increasingly pleased with her "fiancé."

Viserys strode confidently to the throne, taking his seat with the ease of a man born to rule. As Tyrosh's "Archon-to-be," his authority was undisputed; no one dared to speak until he did. He surveyed the room, then raised the goblet before him and declared, "To our victory, everyone!"

"To victory!" the crowd echoed, with Feles's voice ringing out louder than most. The revival of his house was within reach, and his excitement was palpable, drawing the attention of Tregar. But Feles no longer had anything to hide. With the Windblown's support, he was poised to become a dominant force in Lys. Even if others learned of his alliance with Viserys, there was little they could do. In fact, many might follow suit and seek to curry favor with Feles.

Viserys surveyed the room, already aware of what Lys and Myr desired. Lys wanted a return to their pre-war sphere of influence, while Myr sought to station troops on the Stepstones, though their minimum demand was a port. Both knew that Viserys wouldn't immediately concede to their demands, and this moment was about extracting as much as possible from the situation.

"As you all know, Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr once united to form the Triarchy, using the Disputed Lands as their foundation. This alliance lasted for a hundred years."

His words left the room puzzled. What was this young ruler thinking? Was he actually proposing to rebuild the Triarchy? That idea seemed naive, and even if he intended to revive it, how would power be distributed? Who would lead? None of the three cities seemed capable of taking charge.

The original Triarchy had collapsed because the Tyroshi had become notorious for their bribery, which eventually led to its downfall. The idea of a unified kingdom had been abandoned long ago. Few were optimistic about Viserys's proposal.

But his next suggestion caused even more skepticism.

"I propose that we build a Quadarchy on the foundation of the old Triarchy," he said.

"Prince Viserys," Tregar interjected, his tone measured, "you're making some very... 'progressive' suggestions, but I think you may be moving a bit too quickly."

"Please, continue," Tregar added, trying to mask his skepticism with diplomacy. "Your proposal has merit, but I believe we should first address the interests of the Free Cities to reduce any potential hidden dangers."

Tregar understood that a young ruler like Viserys would be cautious about directly opposing a seasoned elder like himself—especially one who had risen so quickly without suffering any major defeats. Tregar's strategy was to go along with Viserys's ideas for now, subtly steering the conversation toward a more practical focus: dividing the spoils first and addressing the concept of a kingdom later. If necessary, they could drag out discussions until the idea faded away.

"Lord Tregar makes a valid point," Viserys continued smoothly. "In fact, my proposal aims to address these very concerns. First, I do not plan to establish a throne above the four Free Cities. Instead, I wish to create a 'confederation.'"

"A confederation?" Tregar and the others mulled over this unfamiliar term.

Denzo, the Red Viper, and Penson—Cassius's son—tried to grasp the concept as Viserys elaborated. "A confederation means that each Free City would retain its autonomy in matters of military, justice, and administration. The confederation would only intervene as an arbitrator in disputes between the cities. Additionally, the confederation would provide mutual military assistance. The three Free Cities in the Disputed Lands have long been threatened by Volantis, while Pentos has faced constant danger from Braavos and the Dothraki. Military support is essential. Think of the confederation as a long-term alliance."

As they listened, the idea began to make more sense. Many in the room found themselves more willing to consider joining such an arrangement.

The Red Viper, however, was quick to realize something deeper. If Viserys's confederation truly took shape, it would not only unify the cities against external threats like Volantis and Braavos but also create a mutual defense pact. In facing the Iron Throne, wouldn't the other Free Cities then be obligated to support Viserys as well?

The Red Viper smiled, realizing that Viserys's ambitions were far greater than he had anticipated. But would the others agree?

Sure enough, someone soon pointed out a potential flaw. The deputy sent by Cassius spoke up, "Prince Viserys, if the Iron Throne invades, would the Confederation be obliged to defend together?"

The Red Viper glanced at the young man who had spoken and then back at Viserys, thinking that Viserys might have overplayed his hand this time. The deputy's question also served as a reminder to the others. The Iron Throne's power was unmatched by any of the scattered Free Cities. Even if all the Free Cities combined could rival the Iron Throne, what would they gain from such an alliance? If unity were so simple, it would have happened long ago. Without a strong leader, why would the other Free Cities agree to such a pact?

Viserys, undeterred, addressed the room, "Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that I have no intention of taking advantage of your cities or imposing my will upon you. I never believed that a single meeting could unite the four Free Cities. I assure you that the Iron Throne would not be part of a common defense treaty under the Confederation. I encourage you to take my proposal back to your respective cities for further discussion. We can revisit this idea and continue our negotiations after some time."

Viserys's calm and measured response gave the room pause. He wasn't pressing for immediate agreement but rather inviting careful consideration and further dialogue. It was a strategic move, allowing the idea to take root without forcing anyone's hand.

Chapter 186: Brother, When Can We…

The formation of the Confederation was already halfway complete. Tyrosh was firmly under Viserys's control, and Pentos was no longer an obstacle. The only remaining challenges were Myr and Lys. After all, they held the "fruits of victory," and at worst, Viserys could afford to wait them out. Given the substantial investments they had already made and the minimal risk the Confederation posed to their interests, it wouldn't be long before they came around.

Viserys knew that the hardest part was getting started. Once the Confederation was established, he could gradually transform it into a federation—or even an empire.

After a delayed celebration, the armies of Myr and Lys began to withdraw one by one. Denzo returned to Pentos, taking the detained soldiers with him. As for the gold dragons and weapons hidden by the Dotnere and Lightnere brothers, they revealed everything under Meris's torture. The spoils would be split between Viserys and Hoyt. Denzo also took the brothers back with him, leaving Viserys unconcerned about how Hoyt would deal with them.

With Tyrosh suddenly relieved of the burden of nearly 20,000 soldiers, the city began to relax. Finally, Dany had a chance to tell Viserys about everything that had happened in his absence—especially the tension between her and Arianne.

"She still insists I should marry her brother, so I told her off," Dany said angrily, leaning against Viserys's chest.

Viserys gently played with her pigtails, thinking for a moment before replying, "Dorne is indeed powerful, and we need them as allies."

Dany, still nestled in his arms, suddenly widened her eyes and asked cautiously, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Viserys reassured her, "I was just thinking that we might need to reconsider our marriage contract with House Martell."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dany sat up abruptly, her eyes filled with a sense of injustice. "Brother, you're going to... you're going to..." Her voice choked as if a lump had formed in her throat, stifling the words she wanted to say.

To Dany, the Targaryens were just the two of them now, and the idea of a new marriage contract could only mean one thing—marrying her off.

"No, no, no!" Viserys quickly assured her. "I was thinking we could postpone any marriage and instead forge an alliance through our children."

"Our children..." Dany's initial feelings of shock and hurt turned into a deep blush. At twelve, she was no longer entirely naive, thanks to her time spent with Meris, who filled her head with all sorts of nonsense. She knew more than she let on, though she hadn't expected to be thinking about it so soon.

"But, Brother... I haven't... Meris said I can't..." Dany's voice grew softer with each word, her hands clasped together nervously. Her head was bowed, her cheeks flushed a deep pink that spread down to her neck, making her look endearingly innocent.

Her small feet curled together anxiously, and her toes, like ten shiny grapes, dug into the floor.

Viserys couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course you can't, you little brat."

He found her bashfulness amusing. "I'm going to talk to Oberyn about this tomorrow, so you don't need to worry."

"Oh..." Dany sighed in relief, though she couldn't help but feel a slight emptiness inside.

They chatted for a while longer before Viserys stood up to leave. Just as he was about to go, Dany grasped his hand and whispered, "Brother, when can we..."

"What?" Viserys asked, feigning ignorance.

"...Never mind," Dany murmured, her voice trailing off.

...

The next day, Viserys sought out the Red Viper in private and proposed his "new marriage contract." The Red Viper's face showed clear displeasure at the suggestion. His thin eyebrows arched, and the corners of his lips turned down as he questioned sharply, "You said you didn't want to fulfill the original marriage contract because you felt pressured, and we agreed. Now you want to change the terms? What's wrong—does the idea of marrying a daughter of House Martell repulse you that much?"

Viserys didn't back down. "Let's be reasonable here. If I hadn't relieved Prince Doran of his pain, would we even be having this conversation?"

Viserys paused for effect, his eyes locked on Oberyn's. "And let's not forget, the original marriage contract was signed by Ser Willem on my behalf—I had no say in it., and there's also a secret..."

Red Viper, his patience wearing thin, pressed on. "Go on, say what you need to say."

Viserys remained silent, his gaze unwavering.

Viserys remained silent, his gaze unwavering.

"What secret—speak!" the Red Viper demanded, frustration creeping into his voice, but Viserys still didn't respond.

Before Oberyn could push further, a voice came from behind him. "How did you know?" It was Arianne, her tone laced with shock.

She had followed them, suspecting that they might be discussing her, and now she had overheard the conversation about changing the marriage contract. A chill ran down her spine.

As Viserys mentioned "a secret," Arianne's mind raced, desperately trying to figure out what he was referring to. Her thoughts quickly landed on her secret affair with Daemon Sand, the bastard of Godsgrace. The loss of her virginity had been discreetly covered up by Prince Doran—how could Viserys possibly know?

Although Arianne wasn't certain that Viserys was referring to her secret, she couldn't help but ask, "Are you talking about... that?"

At her words, the Red Viper's confidence wavered, and his aggressive demeanor softened. Although Arianne had only hinted at the truth, Oberyn felt a pang of guilt, knowing exactly what she meant. 'No, it can't be', he thought. 'How could he possibly know? Witchcraft?'

Viserys sighed and spoke calmly, "Princess, everyone makes mistakes when they're young. We are allies now, and honesty is essential. If you accept my revised marriage proposal, we can remain close allies."

The room fell into a tense silence.

Sensing the shift, Viserys pressed on, "Prince Oberyn, I've always valued our time together, and I don't want to lose our friendship."

"Viserys..." The Red Viper began, but the words caught in his throat. Whether it was House Martell forcing the fulfillment of an uncomfortable marriage contract or concealing Arianne's loss of virginity, the blame rested on them. Moreover, before embarking on this expedition, Doran had even instructed the Red Viper to manipulate Viserys, which now felt even more inappropriate.

Even a nobleman's pride could falter under such circumstances.

As for Arianne, her face briefly betrayed a look of disillusionment, but she quickly masked it with anger. "Hmph! You Targaryens can rot in your dragon's nest for all I care!" she snapped before turning on her heel and storming out.

Chapter 187: Come On, Euron—Let’s See What You Can Do

This was the first meeting between Viserys and the Red Viper that didn't end on a mutually satisfying note.

Red Viper couldn't argue with the outcome; after all, House Martell was at fault. Still, Viserys had shown enough sincerity to maintain the alliance. Two days later, Manfrey, along with Arianne—Red Viper's daughters—and half of the Sunspear fleet, began their withdrawal. Red Viper lingered for a few more days, using the time to learn fire magic from Viserys and to repair their strained relationship.

Red Viper proved to have a natural talent for magic and even learned to light a candle from a distance. His decision to stay wasn't just about magic, though; he wanted to mend things with Viserys as much as possible. When the time came for their farewell at the port, the two behaved as if nothing had happened between them.

"So you think there's a good chance of establishing this confederation?" Red Viper asked after listening to Viserys's explanation.

"Not just a chance," Viserys replied confidently. "The confederation will be established in a few months."

"I suggest you reconsider," Red Viper said, his concern evident.

"Are you worried about the Iron Throne?"

"Yes. If you manage to get the other Free Cities to form an alliance with you, then the confederation will have value. But if you exclude the Iron Throne, what good will it do you?"

Viserys looked at him and said, "That's where you come in."

"Me?" Red Viper was puzzled.

"Yes, I need you to fight for me for half a year to a year."

Red Viper was accustomed to struggling to keep up with Viserys's unpredictable ideas. Whenever he felt lost, he'd look straight into Viserys's eyes for clarity.

"Why a year?" he asked, still confused.

"I can't tell you yet," Viserys replied.

Although Viserys didn't elaborate, Red Viper couldn't help but speculate. He imagined that Viserys was planning something significant—either building a strong enough army within a year or developing some powerful magic that could bring Robert Baratheon's downfall. In reality, Viserys was anticipating the chain of events that would soon unfold in Westeros: Jon Arryn's poisoning, Ned Stark's arrival in King's Landing, and the subsequent War of the Five Kings. That would be the perfect moment for Viserys to make his move.

If he were to reveal these plans to Red Viper now, it would be too difficult to explain.

"Alright, I understand," Red Viper said. "But how will we stay in contact?"

"Don't worry about that," Viserys reassured him. "I have time to train my own raven now, so we can communicate through it."

Red Viper raised his eyebrows, intrigued. He was curious to see how Viserys's raven would differ from the ones trained by the Maesters.

Viserys escorted Red Viper to the ship, watching as the Sunspear fleet's sails grew smaller on the horizon. Red Viper stood at the bow, waving until the fleet disappeared into the shimmering waves. Once they were out of sight, Viserys turned to head back to the palace.

He had been walking a tightrope for a long time. Physically, he was holding up, but mentally, he was exhausted.

"Let's see how Euron is doing. I wonder if he's reached Valyria yet." Viserys prepared to tune into Euron's journey through Dragon Dreams.

On a desolate shore, a half-sunken warship lay quietly, its stern long gone, as if it had been there for ages. The wreck was turned upside down, resembling a broken corpse abandoned by time. Vines and weeds had claimed the warship, their tendrils weaving through the gaps in the hull. Shadows flickered within the hollowed remains, hinting at small animals that had made it their refuge from the elements.

The horn on the ship's bow—a golden lion's head—stood as a silent witness to the disasters that had befallen this once-mighty vessel. As Viserys's Dragon Dream perspective drew closer, he realized that this was not Euron's body he was seeing, but his "avatar."

'Clever', Viserys thought, 'no wonder he's been able to retrieve such treasures from Valyria, like Valyrian armor and the dragon horn.'

Shifting his viewpoint, Viserys spotted the Silence anchored not far from the shore. It seemed Euron's true body was still on the ship, confirming Viserys's suspicion about how Euron explored Valyria—using avatars, like lives in a game, to navigate the perilous ruins.

Euron's avatar landed on the shore, kicking up sand as he approached the wrecked warship. The lion's head emblem hinted that the ship might have once belonged to House Lannister. He walked cautiously, the wind rustling through the desolate vegetation and the crunch of gravel under his boots echoing in the silence. As he neared the ship, Euron paused, noting the massive hole in the hull—two meters wide—wondering what kind of creature or disaster could have caused such damage.

Just as he prepared to move around the wreck, a shadow suddenly swooped down. It was a creature similar to a crocodile, but larger—three meters long and nearly 1.5 meters tall. Unlike a typical crocodile, this beast had more developed limbs, allowing it to stand higher off the ground.

'If the Dragonlords and their dragons were products of 'genetic engineering,' 'Viserys mused, 'then it's likely these monsters are too. The end of the world approaches, and the lab experiments escape—makes sense.'

Euron's avatar turned to flee, but the creature was too fast. It closed the distance in a single leap, kicking up dust as it charged. The beast stamped down on Euron's avatar, then tore off an arm with its massive jaws, black and red saliva dripping from its fangs. Blood sprayed, and the scene distorted before Viserys's eyes.

Suddenly, Viserys found himself back on the Silence. The avatar was dead, and the screen had gone black. Euron was clearly close to the ruins, but the exact location remained unclear. Viserys pulled his viewpoint higher, scanning the surroundings. The sea of smoke rising like a pillar was directly north.

'He's almost in Valyria', Viserys thought. 'Come on, Euron—let's see what you can do.'

Chapter 188: New Leader of Windblown

In the shade by the fountain of Tyrosh's palace, the Windblown were hosting the grandest banquet since their founding. The air was filled with the aroma of food, the sound of musicians playing lively tunes, and the clinking of glasses. There was an abundance of drinks—Tyrosh's local brandy, Arbor's finest wine, and even Dothraki mare's beverages—enough to satisfy every taste.

Cool-haired maids with vibrant colors in their locks flitted through the crowd, their presence adding to the festivities. Some of the guests couldn't keep their hands to themselves, taking full advantage of the jovial atmosphere.

In both the Free Cities and Westeros, banquets typically took place in the evening. However, given Hoyt's schedule, this one was held during the day. Hoyt had spent nearly a month consolidating his control over the newly conquered Pentos before coming to Tyrosh. He often said that having spent most of his life in the Windblown, he needed to see things through to the end.

"The Tattered Prince really hit the jackpot this time, becoming a true prince!" Darsent remarked, his bright red hair glinting as he held a serving girl close.

"Who wouldn't be? I couldn't believe it when I first heard the news," Dick added, chewing on a tender lamb chop.

Glancing around to ensure Meris wasn't nearby, he lowered his guard and continued, "I heard Prince Hoyt is going to marry two wives and deflower two virgins every year. I wonder if the old captain can still handle it."

Laughter erupted from the group, especially among those with vivid imaginations who couldn't help but picture the aged Hoyt in such a scenario.

Despite the teasing, there was genuine envy among the Windblown for Hoyt and Viserys. The once 'Beggar King' and 'Tattered Prince' had each carved out their own territories, becoming rulers in their own right—a feat that left everyone in awe. Yet, when they thought of their own limitations, the envy faded into resignation.

Even Darsent, who had once been openly critical of Viserys, had nothing left to say. "If you think you're capable, why don't you go behead pirates yourself? Or mobilize mine slaves to rebel? Or take a city like Tyrosh by force?" These weren't tasks for ordinary men, and Viserys had accomplished them all. Because of him, the equipment in their camp had seen a significant upgrade.

Everyone understood the real purpose of the banquet: it was likely Viserys's inauguration celebration as their new leader.

"The captain is here!" Meris's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention.

Hoyt entered, no longer clad in his tattered clothes but draped in a silk robe, half blue and half yellow—a mark of Lys. The new attire gave him a rejuvenated appearance. Denzo had stayed behind in Pentos, so Hoyt was accompanied by Caggo and Viserys. Kambron, too, had been invited with Viserys's blessing. As a former Archon, Kambron harbored no bitterness at the loss of his position, understanding that to stabilize Tyrosh, Viserys needed to retain some of the old nobility's rights to ensure the city's swift return to productivity. Smiling, Kambron joined the celebration, recognizing the significance of the handover from the old leader to the new.

Feles, of course, was also present. As Lys's representative and Viserys's chief adviser, he was eager to hear the next steps from his "Lord."

It was clear that the Windblown were on the brink of rapid expansion. Viserys and Hoyt had their sights set on controlling new territories, and they would need the Windblown as their foundation. It wouldn't be long before the group swelled to 10,000 members, making it the most powerful mercenary force in the Free Cities.

But as Feles observed the grand banquet, a thought struck him: 'If a mercenary group controls its own territory, can it still be called a mercenary group?' He mused with interest. 'At that point, it becomes a hegemon.'

Following tradition, Hoyt sat at the head of the gathering. He pressed his hands together, signaling for everyone to take their seats, then cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. "Everyone, I wonder if you still recognize me?"

His words elicited a ripple of laughter.

"This year marks the 29th year since the Windblown was founded," Hoyt continued. "In four months, we'll celebrate 30 years, and I will have been the leader of the Windblown for nearly three decades."

Hoyt's voice seemed to carry the audience back in time, to the early days of the Windblown. Many of those present had been mere children—some not even born—when the group was formed. A wave of nostalgia swept over the room.

"I've often wondered if I should remain leader for another four months to make it a full thirty years," Hoyt said with a hint of melancholy. "But I think it's time to pass the torch. While I may be old, the Windblown is still young and can't afford to be delayed."

Hoyt then turned his gaze to Viserys, and everyone followed suit. The attention of the room shifted to Viserys—Dany, Jorah, Regis, Spider Webber, Caggo, Gerrold, Dick, Meris—all eyes were on him.

Suddenly, Viserys was the focus of the entire gathering. He stood and walked over to Hoyt.

Hoyt smiled at him, then continued, "This is the young man who brought back hundreds of suits of armor from Volantis. When I asked him what he planned to do with them, he told me, plain as day, that he wanted to lead the Windblown!"

The crowd was taken aback by Viserys's audacity. They hadn't expected him to be so direct, and they were curious to know how Hoyt had reacted at the time.

The Red Viper grinned, remembering Viserys's straightforwardness from their time in Sunspear.

Arianne and Dany exchanged glances, then turned their attention back to the scene unfolding before them.

"Everyone knows that Viserys and Dany lost their loved ones to murderers. They've been consumed by a desire for revenge and the restoration of the Seven Kingdoms. Just like me," Hoyt said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "Viserys told me he would help me take Pentos—and he did. I have no doubt that one day, he will take back the Iron Throne!"

Hoyt paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, "Do you want your own castle? Your own territory? Do you want to become a Ser? Then follow him! He will give you the answers you seek!"

Hoyt, with the weight of thirty years of loyalty and leadership behind him, offered Viserys the most powerful endorsement imaginable. If Viserys had made these promises alone, they might not have carried the same weight. But coming from Hoyt, these words felt undeniably real.

"Viserys Targaryen!" Regis stood up and shouted, his voice cutting through the air.

"Viserys Targaryen!" Jorah, Webber, Caggo, and Dick echoed, rising to their feet with fervor.

"Viserys Targaryen!" Even Dany, overjoyed for her brother, joined in.

She and Viserys had left Braavos with a dream of commanding their own mercenary group, and now, they had not just a group—but the entire city of Tyrosh under their influence.

On this day, the Windblown turned a new page in its history. It welcomed its second captain, Viserys Targaryen.

Chapter 189: Perhaps He Can Be Persuaded to Give Up the Iron Throne

Most of those involved in the war got what they wanted. Hoyt finally exacted his revenge and became the de facto ruler of Pentos. Viserys solidified his influence across Pentos, Tyrosh, and Lys, ensuring the Tyroshi nobility was firmly under his control. Hoyt and Viserys now jointly ruled Pentos, while Viserys also extended his reach into Lys. In addition, Viserys struck a deal with the Red Viper, securing 20% of the toll from every ship passing through—essentially stealing a golden goose for Sunspear and amassing significant wealth from the campaign in Pentos.

The stir they caused couldn't go unnoticed in King's Landing. The situation forced Jon Arryn to drag Robert out of bed and into an urgent council meeting. As the Master of Whisperers, Varys was the first to brief the group on the unfolding events.

"The man behind the uprising in Pentos is named Hoyt Stewart. He fled the city about thirty years ago to avoid being sacrificed as a puppet prince. The House Berent of Pentos slaughtered his family, and he has been plotting his revenge ever since..."

Many of those present recognized the name but were unfamiliar with his history. When Varys mentioned that Hoyt was the leader of the Windblown, it clicked for everyone.

"This dragon spawn—he's only seventeen, right? And he managed all this?" someone asked skeptically.

Varys gave an innocent shrug, indicating that he was merely relaying the information he had gathered.

Jon Arryn frowned. "Continue."

"Yes, Hand of the King." Varys took a measured breath and continued. "The situation in Tyrosh is more complex. The city is now jointly administered by Pentos, Myr, and Sunspear, though it's primarily ruled by a man known as Griff."

Varys wasn't exactly volunteering this information out of goodwill; he had a personal grudge against Viserys and would have preferred to see him torn apart.

"Tell me more about this Griff," Arryn said, narrowing his eyes.

As an "ally," Varys knew exactly how to present the situation to benefit himself. He painted Griff as an ambitious figure, a potential threat. The elderly Grand Maester Pycelle, still sharp and influential, nodded in agreement.

"So this Griff is another Ninepenny Kings type?" Pycelle asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yes," Varys replied. "This alliance between Sunspear, Myr, Lys, and Pentos bears his fingerprints all over it. His connection with Hoyt seems strong, as they were both mercenaries. I'm still verifying the exact nature of their relationship."

Hearing this, Jon Arryn felt a small sense of relief but remained cautious. He pressed on, "And what role does this Viserys play in all of this?"

According to the information Connington had fed Varys, it was Viserys who orchestrated the alliance. Viserys had instructed Connington to relay this, knowing it would muddy the waters. However, revealing this would not serve Varys's interests—or those of the current regime.

"He played a significant role in helping Hoyt capture Pentos," Varys answered smoothly. "That's why Hoyt appointed him as the new leader of the Windblown. I'm still digging for more details."

As Jon Arryn absorbed the information, he glanced over at Barristan Selmy, carefully observing his reaction. Barristan appeared attentive, showing no signs of any secret connection to Viserys. But there was something in his expression—an admiration, perhaps even a longing—that irked Jon Arryn.

Jon Arryn fought the urge to remind Barristan that the king he now served was a Baratheon, not a Targaryen.

"We should strike while the Windblown are still weak and gather an army to crush them!" Renly, the youngest of the Baratheon brothers, proposed eagerly.

Robert immediately approved of the idea. "Yes! They're just a small mercenary band!"

Seeing his brother's approval, Renly flicked his hair back, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

Jon Arryn remained silent, clearly exasperated by the brothers' impulsiveness, but Stannis stepped in with a timely reminder. "The Iron Throne rules Westeros, not the Free Cities. An attack could provoke hostility from the Free Cities."

Renly and Robert exchanged disapproving glances. "So what do you suggest?" Robert snapped, "Let this Viserys grow stronger and stronger? By then, the bastards in Dorne and Highgarden will side with him! They'll want to see their dragon lord back on the Iron Throne!"

Robert grew more agitated as he spoke, his anger rising. Pycelle, lowering his eyes, was well aware that Robert's claim of fighting for Lyanna was a flimsy excuse—a way to mask his usurpation. Robert's rise to power had been so riddled with coincidences that even he felt uneasy about it.

"Who represented Sunspear in this campaign?" Stannis asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Prince Oberyn, my lord," Varys answered.

"That son of a whore!" Robert fumed. "He's probably in league with Viserys!"

Ignoring the king's outburst, Jon Arryn spoke calmly. "Perhaps we should summon Oberyn to King's Landing for questioning. We might learn more, and gather some useful information."

"Good idea," Renly chimed in, "but what reason would we give him? He won't come without a compelling excuse."

"Offer him a seat on the small council," Jon Arryn suggested, causing a stir in the room. The idea of giving such a significant position to Oberyn shocked everyone. Jon Arryn had long held sway over the Master of Coin, but a seat on the small council was no trivial offer. Was someone in the room about to lose their position?

Tension rippled through the room as everyone suddenly felt their power being threatened.

"If we're bringing the Red Viper here, we might as well summon Ned too!" Robert blurted out, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. Over the years, he had sensed Jon Arryn's subtle power struggle with the Lannisters, but he had never quite understood the reasons behind it. Now, confused and anxious, he was desperate to find an ally.

Jon Arryn turned his head to Robert, his voice steady. "And who do you plan to leave in charge of the North? Robb is only 14 years old." Robert fell silent, realizing he had spoken without thinking.

After confirming a few more details, Arryn addressed the king. "Your Grace, is there anything else you wish to ask?"

Though Jon Arryn had been governing the realm, the crown still rested on Robert's head, and the proper etiquette between the king and his advisers had to be observed.

"No!" Robert barked, clearly impatient.

"Very well," Arryn concluded. "Varys, keep a close watch on the Free Cities. Pycelle, send a letter to Sunspear. Invite Oberyn to King's Landing, and we'll discuss his position when he arrives."

"Yes, my lord," both Varys and Pycelle responded in unison.

Soon, everyone had left the council chamber, but Barristan lingered, approaching Varys in private.

"Ser Barristan, how can I assist you?" Varys asked respectfully.

"In the meeting, you didn't mention anything about Daenerys. How is she?" Barristan inquired, his tone steady but with a hint of concern.

"I'm afraid I haven't paid special attention to her, my lord," Varys replied cautiously. "But given Viserys's current situation..." He hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding dismissive. Thankfully, Barristan seemed to understand the implication.

"Ser, I appreciate your insight, but we serve the Baratheon king now. Doesn't that complicate things?"

Barristan's face grew more serious, his words carefully chosen.

"I understand your concerns. But I served the late King Aerys for many years. My only wish is to ensure that his bloodline remains safe," Barristan added, his voice firm and honest. For a brief moment, Varys felt a pang of guilt.

The Master of Whisperers composed himself, dismissing the uncharacteristic emotion. "Your thoughts are noble, Ser Barristan, but have you considered that even if Viserys were willing to give up his claim to the Iron Throne, could he ever forgive the blood feud? Our King Robert killed his brother, and Tywin Lannister was responsible for the deaths of his sister-in-law and nephew. Could he ever let that go?"

Barristan's expression darkened as the weight of Varys's words sank in. "Perhaps... perhaps we could try. It might be worth attempting," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. Even he knew that the history of bloodshed between the Targaryens and their enemies was too deep to simply set aside. After all, the Targaryens and Martells had a history of killing each other, yet they had still forged alliances through marriage. 'But what if they couldn't?'

The two men exchanged a few more words before parting ways. For Varys, it was clear that Viserys would never relinquish his hatred. Worse, Varys realized he was implicated in that hatred.

In addition to his usual intelligence reports, Varys had recently received something more disturbing—the head of Illyrio Mopatis. Illyrio's scalp had been brutally removed, and the words "blood is blood" were carved into the back of his head. It was a clear message: Viserys had uncovered the plot between him and Illyrio. This was no mere warning; it was a direct provocation, a threat.

The sight of Illyrio's mutilated head brought back memories Varys had long tried to bury—the helplessness he had felt when he was castrated and left to die in the streets. A wave of indescribable fear washed over him.

For a fleeting moment, Varys considered advising Robert to launch an attack on the Free Cities. But he knew that this was precisely what Viserys wanted. A war would likely push Dorne and the Reach into Viserys's camp. They were already on the political fringes, and Viserys was offering them a path to greater influence.

Dorne, in particular, would almost certainly align itself with the Targaryens if given the chance. And in his heart, Varys knew that Robert couldn't win. Even though he wasn't the Master of Coin, Varys was well aware that the Iron Throne's finances were in far worse shape under Robert than they had ever been under Aerys.

Robert's endless banquets, extravagant tournaments, and reckless spending had drained the treasury year after year... and in that moment, Varys couldn't help but silently curse the usurper.

The good news was that Connington had sent word that young Aegon was still safe, and Viserys hadn't suspected a thing. Connington had only revealed his true identity to Viserys, which brought Varys a measure of relief. If Viserys had learned more, all of Connington's years of patience, lurking in the shadows, and meticulous planning would have been for nothing.

This Small Council meeting reflected the sentiments of half of Westeros—the Vale, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands. However, the upheaval across the Narrow Sea sent even wider ripples through the realm, affecting regions like the Reach, particularly House Tyrell in Highgarden.

During the Conquest, Aegon the Conqueror's approach to the Riverlands and the Reach was to support one house while suppressing another. In the Riverlands, he elevated House Tully, while in the Reach, he supported House Tyrell, which had risen from being mere stewards to the ruling family after the fall of House Gardener. Though House Tyrell didn't face extinction like the Targaryens after Robert's Rebellion, they still endured significant scrutiny and suppression.

An example of this was Stannis Baratheon's marriage to Selyse Florent, now a Baratheon, which symbolized royal favor toward House Florent, a rival to the Tyrells.

Over nearly a decade, House Florent had grown in power, challenging the Tyrells' dominance in the Reach. To secure their position, Lord Mace Tyrell sent his youngest son, Loras, to serve as Renly Baratheon's squire—a gesture of loyalty to the Stormlands. The Tyrells even considered marrying their youngest daughter, Margaery, to Renly to strengthen their alliance.

As a result, the Tyrell family had rarely been together in recent years, often finding one of their members absent at meals. On this particular evening, those present were Queen of Thorns Olenna, Lord Mace—often mocked as the "The Fat Flower"—his eldest son Willas, his second son Garlan, and his daughter Margaery. The five of them sat at the mahogany table and prayed.

"Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." they recited in unison. As devout followers of the Seven, and especially as descendants of Garth Greenhand, prayer was essential before eating. Even the serving girls behind them bowed their heads in silent prayer.

Of course, only one person kept her eyes open—Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, who always had her own way of doing things.

She glanced first at her fat son, Mace, then at her eldest grandson, Willas. The memory of his fall during a tournament and the injury that crippled his leg still pained her. Olenna had been beside herself with grief when she received the news, unable to eat for days. Though she had publicly urged Willas to be strong, she had cried many times in private.

Next, her gaze shifted to her other grandson, Garlan. Of all Mace's children, Garlan resembled him the most, especially in his youth. But unlike Mace, Garlan had proven to be far more capable, a fact that filled Olenna with pride. She had a special fondness for Garlan because of it.

Finally, Olenna looked at Margaery, the little Rose of House Tyrell. Olenna remembered the days when she defied her own family's plans, refusing to marry a Targaryen and instead taking matters into her own hands by securing a happy marriage. But things were different now; in House Tyrell, duty was paramount. Margaery could, and must, marry Renly Baratheon, and if necessary, support his claim to the throne. It was the only way to ensure a prosperous future for their house.

The prayer concluded, and Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, took a deliberate bite of her food, signaling to her son and grandchildren that they could begin eating as well.

As the clatter of knives, forks, and plates filled the room, Olenna broke the silence. "Have you heard about Viserys? What are your thoughts?"

Her grandchildren paused, their meals momentarily forgotten, while Mace, the Lord Puff Fish, oblivious to the tension, continued to eat heartily. But Olenna no longer concerned herself with her son's lack of awareness; her focus was on the future of House Tyrell.

Chapter 190: Tyrells’ Table

Hearing her grandmother's voice, Margaery looked up, her large brown eyes darting around, but she remained silent. Garlan, too, kept quiet, waiting for their eldest brother to speak first. Mace, imagining himself in the role of the head of the family, also waited for Willas to voice his thoughts.

Willas bowed slightly to Olenna and Mace before speaking. As a lover of books and poetry, he harbored a certain admiration for Viserys. The young prince's songs had already become popular among the bards in Highgarden, especially Braavos' Lover, which had outshone all the songs praising Highgarden in recent decades. If Viserys were merely a poet, Willas would have liked to meet him. However, Viserys was more than that.

Willas had heard rumors about the prince's involvement with pirates a year ago, and while the stories seemed fantastical, he knew there was often some truth behind such tales. "Grandmother, Father, I believe Viserys is more complex than he appears. He must be deeply involved in the Tyrosh incident. It's likely that Sunspear is involved in this war because of him."

As the eldest son of House Tyrell, Willas had a talent for analyzing situations. In his view, an ordinary man who wanted to form his own mercenary group would typically serve under another leader for years, like Bittersteel or Hoyt, building connections and experience before striking out on his own. But Viserys was different. He had joined the Windblown just a year ago and had already taken control of one of the most powerful mercenary companies in the Disputed Lands. Moreover, the former leader of the Windblown had become the Prince of Pentos—a clear indication that some sort of deal had been struck.

Willas's insight extended even further, as he astutely noted the potential connection between Viserys and House Martell. Olenna was pleased with her eldest grandson's perceptiveness, but she pressed further. "If Viserys indeed persuaded House Martell to send troops, what kind of exchange of interests do you think took place between them?"

"This Viserys was the laughingstock of the 'Banquet of the Crown' two years ago, mockingly called the Beggar King," Willas continued. "Now, even if he isn't as destitute as he was then, it's likely he still has little to offer. The only valuable thing he has is the Targaryen name. So, it must have been a marriage alliance."

Olenna smiled, then turned to Garlan. "And what do you think?"

Garlan, the strongest of the three brothers, shifted his chair back before responding. "I agree. It's possible that Viserys has even married his sister to Doran's son."

Olenna's smile deepened. She knew her grandson well. Garlan had always respected his eldest brother, especially after Willas's accident, when he had refused to outshine him. As a timid child, Garlan had been encouraged by Willas, who had given him the nickname "Garlan the Gallant." The Queen of Thorns, who had weathered many storms, found herself deeply moved by the bond between her grandsons.

Olenna then turned her attention to Margaery, raising an eyebrow in expectation. Margaery understood the cue and spoke up. "Willas and Garlan both make valid points, and I agree with them. But the Targaryens have neither dragons nor the Iron Throne anymore. There could be more to this than just a marriage alliance."

Olenna nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair as a servant stepped forward to massage her neck. "Indeed, Doran Martell is not the type to send troops for a mere name. When Aerys asked him to defend the capital, he only sent 10,000 men. But now, he's attacking Tyrosh with the same number of soldiers and even a fleet. There must be a deeper reason behind this."

The room fell into contemplative silence. What could possibly drive someone as cautious as Doran to make such a bold move for Viserys?

"Mother, we know so little about the Free Cities," Mace finally said, breaking the silence. "Perhaps we should send someone to gather more information."

"I'll go," Garlan offered immediately.

"No!" Willas and Olenna both objected in unison. They exchanged a glance, and Willas's eyes briefly betrayed his concern. As the saying goes, 'The eldest son holds the fort, the second son conquers new ground.' Willas's protest was rooted in his desire to protect his younger brother from unnecessary danger.

But Olenna's reaction also hinted at deeper thoughts. It wasn't that she didn't love Willas, but she knew she had to prioritize the future of House Tyrell. Little Rose, Margaery, sensing the tension, suggested, "Perhaps Uncle Garth could handle this matter?"

Garth, Mace's brother, had two bastard children. Compared to the main branch, their lives were less precious, and sending a bastard son on such a mission would be more discreet.

Margaery's suggestion was quickly accepted by all. "If the Targaryens hadn't lost the Iron Throne, this Viserys might have become a poet and even friends with Willas," she continued, lightening the mood.

"Yes, if he were an ordinary person, I would have loved to meet him," Willas replied, smiling.

"But he was born too late," Olenna added, watching her grandchildren laugh together.

Olenna took this opportunity to emphasize the importance of family. Her handmaiden had mentioned that Margaery seemed to have taken an interest in Viserys, often humming "Falia" and "The Lover of Braavos." Although Margaery was only 14, Olenna understood that curiosity, even innocent, could lead to more dangerous paths.

Margaery had grown up under Olenna's watchful eye, and although she knew that Margaery's curiosity was likely harmless, she also knew that it was better to nip any potential risks in the bud. Margaery had to marry Renly; otherwise, the Tyrells' position would only weaken further.

The Tyrells were not only under pressure from the Iron Throne but also faced constant tension with Dorne over the Red Mountains. They were unsure of what Dorne had gained from recent events in the Narrow Sea, what Viserys might have promised them, and how this might affect the Reach.

These uncertainties were why Olenna had decided they needed someone in the Free Cities to gather more information. Viserys hadn't yet made a real move in Westeros, but his mere presence was already causing unease.

Chapter 191: Midwife of the Mother of Dragons

"Come on, Dyman, just four more!"

Behind a small warehouse, two slaves were training together. One was muscular and strong, while the other was thinner, struggling to keep up. A few months earlier, Viserys had issued a new decree: any slave who passed a rigorous physical fitness test would earn their freedom after five years of service, along with a generous settlement. If they had the honor of killing an enemy or beheading one in battle, they could shorten their service or receive additional rewards.

This decree was a groundbreaking opportunity for social mobility, turning Tyrosh's vast population of slaves into a formidable force. Within just a few months, Viserys had formed a new army of 4,000 men. These soldiers were not only brave and obedient but also hardworking and determined to prove themselves. They quickly surpassed Tyrosh's old army in discipline and morale. All they needed now was the baptism of fire to become a true fighting force.

However, the path to freedom wasn't free. Viserys had to purchase these slaves from their owners, often at a high price. Naturally, the slave owners were reluctant, as the slaves who passed the fitness test were typically young and strong—valuable assets. When the owners discovered their slaves were secretly training, they often resorted to brutal punishments, sometimes even crippling them to deter others.

Despite these risks, some slaves were determined to join the army and trained in secret. Dyman and his friend were among them.

"Come on, just two more!" urged the stronger slave. Dyman was on the ground, struggling through his push-ups, his arms trembling like leaves in the wind. His form was failing; his waist dipped so low it nearly touched the ground.

"One more!" his friend encouraged.

Viserys's standards were tough: 40 push-ups, 15 pull-ups, 150 squats, 2,000 sit-ups, and an eight-league run. It was a grueling challenge, especially for slaves who were barely given enough food to survive.

But Dyman couldn't manage that final push-up. With a groan, he collapsed onto the dirt, his heavy breathing stirring up dust, which he accidentally inhaled. The taste of earth mixed with the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, triggering a fit of coughing.

Sandor tried to encourage his friend. "It's okay, Dyman. A couple of days of rest, and you'll be fine."

After a long pause, Dyman finally sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Do you really think so, Brother Sandor? The push-ups are manageable, but those pull-ups... they're just too hard. I can only manage four or five, and I keep swaying."

Sandor, who was a bit older and more experienced, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's tough. Some people seem to have a natural knack for it, but others need practice. I've heard you can build up your strength by adding weights. Once you can do five pull-ups with a little extra weight, you'll be able to do seven or eight without it. Keep pushing yourself, and eventually, you'll hit fifteen."

Dyman looked at him with admiration. "I really envy you, Sandor. You'll be joining the barracks soon, right?"

Sandor smiled. "The day after tomorrow. My master's delivering my slave contract to Prince Viserys."

"Prince Viserys is a good Archon," Dyman said, using the title many slaves still preferred, even though Viserys called himself the 'Regent Magister.'

Sandor hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but was interrupted by a familiar shout from behind. "What are you two doing, slacking off here?"

They turned to see Baran, their master, storming towards them, a stick in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The blue-bearded man, dressed in a clean shirt, looked every bit the angry beast as he approached, smoke curling from his nostrils.

"Master, we've finished our work for the day. We're not slacking," Sandor said, trying to keep the situation calm.

Baran wasn't having it. "Shut your mouth, you little rat! Until your slave contract is handed over, you're still mine! If I can't find you when I need you, that's laziness!"

"Brother Sandor passed the test! He's not your slave anymore!" Dyman burst out, his youthful defiance getting the better of him.

"Dyman, no!" Sandor tried to warn him, but it was too late. The words had already escaped, and Baran's eyes flared with anger.

With a furious drag, the cigarette in Baran's mouth burned down to a nub. He spat it out, letting the last wisps of smoke curl around his face before raising his stick high, the red glow of the cigarette's embers fading as he brought the club down hard.

"He is not my slave, but are you? Are you! How dare you speak to me like this! Who gave you the guts?" Dyman screamed, his voice shaking with fury.

Sandor stood frozen, not daring to intervene. It was the master's right to punish the slave, and Dyman still had a long way to go before he could pass the exam. 'If he can't even protect himself, he'll be in serious trouble in the future,' Sandor thought grimly.

The main reason for their master's anger was the decree issued by Viserys, which had infringed on their interests. In the past, slaves had been obedient, docile, and most importantly, numb, driven like cattle. But ever since Viserys decreed that slaves could join the army and potentially earn their freedom, everything had changed.

Servants who had once bowed their heads and avoided eye contact now dared to meet their masters' gaze—both male and female slaves alike. They knew they had once been nothing more than objects of pleasure, forced to comply with their masters' demands. But now, things were different. They had begun to seek out the "potential" among themselves, hoping someone could save them from their misery, from the trough of servitude. They no longer wanted to serve their masters wholeheartedly.

It was precisely for this reason that the slave owners of Tyrosh despised their slaves so much. Their hatred had "jumped" in intensity. Having witnessed the cruelty of Viserys—who hung the heads of those who obstructed his decree on the city walls—they dared not express their anger to him. Instead, they took it out on their slaves.

Especially today. Baran, having drunk a little too much wine, was even more brutal than usual. Seeing Dyman bleeding profusely, his face caked with mud and blood, Baran showed no signs of stopping. After a dozen strokes, the skinny Dyman could no longer hold his head up.

'Something's wrong! The master isn't himself today. He's going to kill Dyman!' Sandor suddenly smelled the alcohol on Baran's breath and realized he might have lost his mind. Dyman had huddled into a ball, his screams faint and weakening.

Without thinking, Sandor threw himself over Dyman to shield him. But Baran's stick came down on Sandor's head instead. Sandor's body twitched a few times before he stopped breathing altogether.

...

Viserys no longer used the original palace as a residence for himself and Dany. The palace now served another function—as an embassy. After two months of negotiations, the Confederation of the Four Daughters was finally established. This body, created to coordinate the interests of all parties, was called the "Council of Commissioners," and Viserys was pleased to be named "Chairman."

However, the chairman's power was relatively limited, functioning more as a moderator in disputes between other Free Cities. Of course, this was just the public face of things. Viserys still wielded considerable influence, thanks to his personal prestige.

In addition, the room that once belonged to Kambron now proudly displays the Targaryen three-headed dragon banner. To free up more time for studying magic and raising dragon eggs, Viserys has assigned this room to Connington, who manages Tyrosh's daily affairs on his behalf.

In addition, the room that once belonged to Kambron now proudly displays the Targaryen three-headed dragon banner. To free up more time for studying magic and raising dragon eggs, Viserys has assigned this room to Connington, who manages Tyrosh's daily affairs on his behalf.

Viserys now focuses primarily on broader strategic planning, leaving the room to serve as Connington's office. At Viserys' request, the office has also become Dany's classroom. Viserys wants her to learn how to manage government affairs from Connington, so that she can eventually help ease his workload.

Alongside Dany, young Connington also occasionally attends these lessons. He knows he owes his current life to Viserys and has inherited his father's ambition to contribute to the Targaryen cause. As a result, he studies governance and martial arts with great determination.

"Ahem, Princess Dany, I have a question for you," Connington said, clearing his throat to draw their attention. Dany looked up, and young Connington quickly snapped to attention as well.

Connington held an unlit cigarette under his nose and sniffed. At the time, few were aware of the dangers of second-hand smoke, but Connington was one of them. Although he wished to smoke, he restrained himself to avoid harming Dany's health.

Seeing that Connington was about to test them, young Connington grew eager to prove himself. He had begun studying government affairs earlier than Dany and always aimed to provide the best answers.

"Last year, Prince Viserys issued a law stating that if a slave passed the draft, the slave owner could not prevent him from enlisting but would receive compensation once the paperwork and contract were completed. Now, there is a slave named Sandor who has passed the draft and is about to become a soldier, but his master killed him before completing the paperwork. What punishment should the master receive?" Connington asked.

After a brief glance at Dany, who was deep in thought, Connington nodded toward young Connington, encouraging him to answer.

"In the law issued by Prince Viserys, the key point is the delivery of the documents. Since the slave who passed the examination is still technically the property of his master until the paperwork is finalized, the master should only be fined," young Connington replied confidently.

Connington nodded in approval. This adherence to the law was a principle he always sought to instill in them, and he was satisfied with young Connington's answer.

"Princess Dany?" he prompted.

"I believe the slave owner should be sentenced to hard labor," Dany replied, touching her silver braid thoughtfully.

Connington's eyes flickered with interest, urging her to elaborate.

"My brother enacted this law to provide slaves with a path to a better life. They already undergo some self-training in warfare as part of their daily work. If the delivery of contracts and other documents is treated as the key step, then countless slave owners will likely exploit this, creating yet another barrier for slaves. They might use it to coerce slaves into paying a higher price for their freedom. This would go against my brother's original intentions.

So, the moment the slave named Sandor passed the exam, he became a soldier of Tyrosh!" Dany concluded, her voice steady and persuasive, revealing the core of the issue.

"Good! We'll do it Dany's way!" Viserys exclaimed with enthusiasm.

A wave of applause filled the room as Viserys stepped forward to address Connington. "Ser Connington," he began, "not only for ordinary slaves, but I also intend to provide opportunities for those skilled in paperwork and calculations. I want to give them a chance to advance as well."

Connington hesitated, sensing a potential issue. "But, Prince, slaves who are proficient in paperwork are typically those who have been carefully trained by their masters. They lead much better lives than ordinary slaves and might not be eager to leave their current situation."

"Oh? Is that so?" Viserys replied with a hint of intrigue. "Even the allure of power doesn't tempt them?"

What Viserys proposed was the introduction of a "bureaucracy exam." He had grown increasingly dissatisfied with the traditional lordship-based management, finding it too crude and inefficient. In the future, he envisioned implementing a "county system" across the Disputed Lands, the Free Cities, and even Westeros. Such a system would require a vast and skilled bureaucracy.

As Viserys elaborated, Connington quickly grasped the implications: the bureaucracy would significantly amplify the king's power, greatly strengthening the royal family's influence. 'But was this really the best course of action?'

Connington couldn't shake his concerns. He knew that such changes would inevitably disrupt many vested interests, and he realized that Viserys was poised to bring about massive transformations in the world. However, to successfully implement this bureaucratic system, Viserys would need to be strong enough to withstand the backlash from the lords. If not, the resistance could be severe.

Viserys had already faced opposition when he enforced his "slave enlistment" policy, dealing harshly with numerous slave owners through executions, arrests, and fines. If he now sought to further dilute their power, it might lead to the complete abolition of slavery, a prospect that could draw Viserys into the quagmire of 'slave liberation.'

"I understand that we don't have the strength to do that yet," Viserys reassured him. "So don't worry, Hand of the King, I won't push for it right now."

Although Viserys had not yet officially appointed Connington as his Hand, he liked to address him as such.

Shifting the conversation, Connington informed Viserys that wildling raids had become more frequent lately, affecting not just Tyrosh but the entire Disputed Lands. Both Myr and Lys were considering following Pentos' example by bribing the horsemen with money and supplies to stop the raids.

Viserys was quick to reject this idea. "If we solve everything through compromise, then what is the point of the Confederation?" he asked pointedly. It seemed that apart from himself and Hoyt, the leaders of Lys and Myr preferred to buy peace rather than fight for it.

'Tyrosh alone can't wage war against the Horselords, who command nearly the entire Dothraki army,' Viserys mused. 'Unless we can achieve a decisive victory that demonstrates the path to success, they'll prefer to remain hidden in their fortresses.'

"Start by sending out small patrols," Viserys concluded. "The time isn't ripe yet. The horsemen are too scattered along the border, and killing a few hundred of them won't make any difference."

Connington nodded, then added, "By the way, Prince, a woman from Lhazareen has been requesting an audience with you for the past two months."

"Lhazareen?" Viserys frowned, trying to recall. "What's her name?"

"Mirri Maz Duur," Connington replied.

Viserys stiffened. 'The Mother of Dragons' midwife!?'

Chapter 192: Traitor and the Dragon’s Horn

Mirri Maz Duur.

When Viserys heard the name, a rush of memories flooded his mind. After the Horselords had sacked Lhazareen, the Mother of Dragons had saved Mirri Maz Duur. But instead of gratitude, she repaid the kindness by turning Drogo into a vegetative state and killing her child, Rhaego. Her reason? Drogo had destroyed her home with the Dothraki. Her motive was pure revenge.

Viserys had believed this narrative until he learned that she wanted to meet with him. Connington had finally agreed to arrange the meeting after she had persistently requested it for nearly two months.

But what puzzled Viserys was the sudden appearance of this priestess—a woman who had learned about herbs from the Dothraki, studied medicine in Asshai, mastered the birth songs of the Moonsingers, and explored human anatomy in the Citadel of Westeros—in Tyrosh.

'If her arrival had triggered a chain of events leading to the Horselords plundering her homeland, that would be understandable,' Viserys thought. 'But why does she want to see me?'

The more he pondered, the more suspicious this all seemed. Given her mastery of blood magic, which in the original story allowed her to use Rhaego's life to save Drogo, Viserys couldn't help but wonder. Even though he had reached the level of a master in blood magic, he couldn't perform such feats without direct contact.

According to his understanding—and confirmed by Shiera—the use of blood magic required physical contact. This revelation made Viserys suspect that Mirri's real target had been the Mother of Dragons all along. 'It's the only explanation that makes sense,' he reasoned. 'Otherwise, how could a woman as knowledgeable and powerful as Mirri have been captured by a group of horsemen? Someone who has traveled the world should have been able to defend herself.'

'Yet, if her goal had been to harm the Mother of Dragons, why didn't she take her after killing Rhaego? Why leave her behind? This woman was far too suspicious.'

"Take me to her," Viserys ordered.

Crack!

A bright orange flame ignited the match, lighting a red spark on the cigarette. In the quiet, secluded hall, Viserys lit the cigarette, took a deep breath, and exhaled white smoke through his nostrils. The fat witch, Mirri Maz Duur, standing before him, watched his movements with curiosity. She sniffed the air with her broad nose, finding the scent harsh but betraying no discomfort.

Cigarettes were still a rarity, popular mostly in the Disputed Lands. It was no surprise that Myr, hailing from the other side of Essos, had never seen one before.

"I hear you're a godswife of the Great Shepherd. What brings you to Tyrosh?" Viserys asked, deliberately adopting a casual tone to throw her off guard.

"Prince Viserys," she began, "I have studied the art of healing in Asshai, the birth songs of the Moonsingers among the Dothraki, and the secrets of the flesh in Westeros. I hope to be of service to you."

Viserys took another drag on his cigarette, recognizing that she was testing him just as much as he was testing her.

"Is that all? You traveled thousands of leagues from the far east to the far west of Essos for this?" Viserys asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

The fat witch responded, "Prince Viserys, I hope you will accept my people. The Dothraki destroyed our homeland, and we have nowhere else to go."

She explained that they had hoped to settle in a Free City that did not practice slavery. Braavos was their first choice, but to reach it, they would have to pass through Qohor and Norvos—an impossible journey with only a thousand people. So they had set their sights on Tyrosh instead. Though Tyrosh was a Free City, the conditions for slaves now were better than in other places.

"Many of my people are skilled in herbal medicine and healing. They can serve you," she added, carefully choosing her words to avoid disrespect.

To the average person, her reasoning might seem flawless, but Viserys knew better. He sensed that she wasn't telling the full truth. The safest course of action would be to kill her or imprison her and have Meris interrogate her. But after some thought, neither option seemed wise. He couldn't be certain of her true motives or who she might be working for, and killing her wouldn't necessarily solve the problem. As for interrogation, he remembered how, in the original tale, Mirri Maz Duur had faced death on the pyre calmly—death held no fear for her.

After careful consideration, Viserys decided to keep her alive for the time being. He called for a servant to bring a cage containing a carrier pigeon. "This is a carrier pigeon I've trained. You can use it to contact me."

The fat witch, seeing that Viserys had accepted her, bowed her short, stout body in gratitude.

"I will also assign six Unsullied to protect your safety," Viserys added. The fat witch understood that by 'protection,' he really meant 'surveillance,' but she accepted it without protest.

Mirri's arrival unsettled Viserys. He knew Dany was the Princess of the prophecy, the one reborn in the land of smoke and salt, the one destined to awaken the dragons.

If the fat witch was here for the Mother of Dragons, it could be part of a greater struggle between the Red God and the Cold God. Who said the Cold God only raised the dead beyond the Wall? Perhaps he had agents on the mortal plane as well.

Viserys decided he needed to keep an eye on Euron. He was determined to obtain Valyrian armor for Dany, something that could protect her from magic. Putting his doubts aside for now, he resumed his close monitoring of Euron.

In his Dragon Dreams, Viserys found himself hovering around the outskirts of the ruined city of Valyria, unable to enter. He had observed this through his dreams dozens of times, circling the ruins for nearly a month without finding a suitable entrance. Following Euron's perspective, he and his puppet stand-ins climbed a high mound that resembled a crater. It was clear that this mini-crater had formed alongside the ruins of Valyria. From his vantage point, Euron noticed, three or four hundred paces away, what seemed to be a dozen giant skeletons.

Judging by the ribs of these skeletons, it was possible to roughly determine the postures in which they died. Some lay on their backs, others on their stomachs, and a few on their sides. Rows of dark ribs jutted toward the sky, resembling a forest of dragon skeletons. In other words, these dozen dragons were shot down in a short period of time.

Euron was cautious and did not approach himself. Instead, he controlled his puppet to move closer to the nearest skeleton. Judging by the orientation of the ribs, this one must have been lying on its side. As the puppet approached, Viserys realized that the torso alone was as wide as a train carriage—perhaps even wider. Including the tail and head, the dragon would have measured around 60 to 70 meters in length. To support such a massive body, each rib must have been as thick as an adult's leg, indicating that it was indeed an adult dragon.

The question then arose: what could have killed such a powerful creature? And more importantly, what could have wiped out a group of them?

Viserys began to recall the injuries sustained by the Black Dread. It was said that when the Black Dread returned with Princess Aerea, it bore jagged, torn wounds. Such injuries could only have been caused by an animal bite or contact with a sharp object. In other words, the dragon was either bitten before it took off or was shot down after taking flight.

Euron continued to guide his puppet toward the largest skeleton. This one was two sizes larger than the previous. The ribs alone extended over ten meters, suggesting that the dragon's body length must have exceeded 100 meters, placing it on the same scale as the Black Dread.

Two rows of ribs pierced the sky like twin rows of black pillars. Euron searched around the largest skeleton, and when he entered the space between the ribs, he discovered a bulge resembling a crouching human figure. He drew his sword and poked at it, finding a hard object beneath the dust. Brushing it off, he revealed a skeleton clad in armor.

"Valyrian armor!" he exclaimed, noting the precious patterns that adorned it. The armor also revealed the identity of its owner—a Dragonlord of Valyria. This Valyrian must have been riding on the dragon when it fell to its death.

Regardless of how he died, the sight of Valyrian steel armor filled both Euron and Viserys with joy. Euron was elated because his three months of searching had finally paid off, while Viserys was thrilled because he knew that this treasure would eventually be his.

Euron ordered his sailors to drag the corpse out, but they discovered that the Dragonlord was still clutching something in his arms. When they pried his hands apart, they found a horn.

'The Dragon's Horn!'

The horn was unexpectedly long, almost 1.6 meters. It was a gleaming black, with a shimmering dark light, and was wrapped in red gold and Valyrian black steel stripes. The stripes were inscribed with strange ancient runes, like some kind of spell.

Euron carefully examined the horn, noticing his distorted reflection on its shiny surface. As he looked at his reflection, he touched the scars and holes on his face. He felt an urge to blow into the horn but resisted.

'Valyrian armor, the Dragon's Horn, and there should be a dragon egg as well, right?' Viserys thought. Remembering Euron's return from Valyria in the original tale, Viserys expected him to continue the search.

However, he found nothing else until he had stripped the corpse completely.

'Maybe it's somewhere else? Or perhaps others managed to escape from here?' Viserys thought, his gaze drifting over the dozen dead dragons surrounding him. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

The Valyrian who held the horn must have seen the end coming. He had fled with his family and a dozen dragons, but they likely encountered some danger shortly after taking flight, causing the dragons to die en masse. The Valyrian himself had fallen and died along with them. Judging by the number of dragons around, it was likely he hadn't fled alone—there might be other family members and friends nearby.

It was clear that Euron had reached the same conclusion. He ordered his mute sailors to spread out and search for any suspicious traces. With dozens of dragons having fallen across an area the size of two or three football fields, it would take a while for even a dozen people to comb through it all. Euron, however, seemed less concerned about finding dragon eggs. Unlike in the original tale where only three eggs existed, Viserys now had five in his possession and knew the whereabouts of two more. Whether Euron found the eggs or not, it didn't matter to him.

Just as Viserys was about to end the Dragon Dream, a sudden commotion erupted. The mute sailors were making strange "ee-ee-ee" noises, their faces pale with terror. Euron sensed something was wrong and ran toward them.

In the next instant, about a hundred paces away, something as thick as a water tank burst through the ground. It was like a black and red stone pillar, but it slowly bent like a tentacle. The tip of the tentacle was covered in white bone spines. The sailors, startled and fleeing, had little chance to react as the tentacle suddenly exploded open like a blooming flower, each thick petal lined with razor-sharp spines. It was a Firewyrm!

The wyrm reared back as if inhaling, then unleashed a torrent of flames, incinerating the sailors around it. The orange flames ignited the mute sailors one by one, turning them into human torches.

Euron, seeing this monstrous creature, immediately dropped the armor and dragon horn he had been holding. He no longer wanted anything except to escape. But where could he go in this desolate place?

'Yes! The pit!'

Realizing this, Euron turned and ran back the way he had come. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Firewyrm had already bitten a mute sailor in half, leaving only the legs still twitching outside its jaws.

Chapter 193: Kraken and the Dragon Egg

The Firewyrm, its body covered in rough, gray scales, continued to wreak havoc. Although it had no eyes, it accurately located the mute sailors, as if it could do more than simply spit fire. With a flick of its massive tail, it smashed into the ground like a cannonball. A dull thud reverberated through the air as countless stones, large and small, splattered in all directions.

Euron, who had been hiding, watched the destruction with excitement. The ruins of the Doom were even more thrilling than he had imagined.

Euron's eyes rolled back in his head, and Viserys found himself staring up at the head of a mute sailor. Euron was manipulating the unfortunate man like a puppet, shouting and jumping about like a madman who had escaped from an asylum. He was trying to attract the Firewyrm's attention, hoping to draw it away from his own body. His total disregard for human life proved disturbingly effective.

The Firewyrm soon turned its attention to the thrashing puppet. The creature, as thick as a water tank, slithered across the ground like a massive snake. Every so often, it would bend its body and propel itself forward in a single bound, covering ten meters in an instant. On second thought, it made sense: after all, this beast had been 'drilling' underground for years. If its body couldn't generate enough thrust, it wouldn't have survived.

Now that it was on the surface, the Firewyrm could use its full strength to propel itself forward. A human on two legs had no chance of outrunning this monster.

The Dragon Dreams vision shifted again, and Viserys was back in his own head. He knew that the Firewyrm could swallow rocks and metal without a problem—let alone ordinary flesh and blood. In the creature's maw, humans would be no harder to chew than pudding.

In less than ten seconds, the massive worm began to search for its next target. Not far away, a mute sailor engulfed in flames caught its attention. The Firewyrm flicked its tail and leapt toward the man, ending his life in a single, brutal motion.

The Firewyrm could pinpoint the location of each person with terrifying accuracy. Judging by the situation, Euron might have to pay the price here. For Viserys, this outcome wasn't entirely unacceptable.

Just as Viserys was considering how to respond, Euron made a sudden dash. His target was the Dragon Horn he had just discarded.

'What's the point of picking that up now? Does he even know how to use it?' Viserys thought, judging that Euron must have been desperate.

The Dragon Horn's usefulness was uncertain, but Euron likely figured it was his only chance at survival. If he used it, he might live; if he didn't, he'd be devoured sooner or later.

Sure enough, Euron's frantic movements caught the Firewyrm's attention, and it began to crawl toward him with alarming speed. Gritting his teeth, Euron pushed himself to his limits, running as fast as he could. When the Firewyrm was just ten meters away, he grabbed the Dragon Horn that he had previously discarded.

The horn was massive—over a meter long and nearly two meters in total—and far too large for Euron to lift easily. Instead, he dropped to the ground, aiming his mouth at the horn's mouthpiece. Whether he could produce a sound or not, Euron took a deep breath, puffed up his cheeks, and blew with all his might, as if his life depended on it.

His face turned crimson from the effort, and his eye patch slipped off in the process. Unlike the high-pitched blast of an ordinary horn, the sound that emerged was more like the howl of a mad wind rushing through a cavern, sending chills down the spine of anyone who heard it. It was as if a thousand souls were crying out from the afterlife.

From his first-person perspective, Viserys observed that as Euron blew the horn, the golden runes etched into it began to glow. Looking up, he could clearly see the Firewyrm's rock-like skin, and the remnants of shredded flesh and clothing clinging to it.

As the horn emitted its eerie, indescribable sound, the Firewyrm's terrifying mouth stopped just three or four feet above Euron's head. In the next moment, the worm seemed to recoil in fear, plunging into the hard ground to escape. To be safe, Euron blew the horn again. The vibrations from beneath the earth grew fainter, and the creature's presence receded farther and farther away.

'Is it safe?' Viserys wondered, surveying the area. The surviving mute sailors peeked out from their hiding spots, and seeing that the fire-breathing monster had finally departed, they collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Viserys then turned his gaze to Euron, who had blown the horn twice. He noticed white smoke steadily streaming from the man's mouth. 'Ah, right,' Viserys thought. 'This thing has this effect—it causes the person who blows the horn to self-ignite.' And that was exactly what was happening to Euron now. He was seriously injured.

But what would become of Euron in this weakened state?

Before Viserys could contemplate further, his perspective shifted, and he watched as Euron controlled a mute sailor to approach his own body. Euron's consciousness then returned to his physical form, and he began performing blood magic...

These mute sailors weren't just pawns used to scout the path; they were also his mobile "blood bags." After draining two of them, Euron's strength returned. He moved to where he had earlier found the Valyrian armor, stripped it from the fallen Dragonlord, and donned it himself.

Finally, Euron commanded his mute sailors to carry the Dragon Horn away.

At that moment, a sailor with a blackened face approached, kneeling before Euron and holding a blue dragon egg above his head, like a hunting dog presenting its prize to its master. Euron was overjoyed at the sight of the dragon egg, and Viserys couldn't help but share in the excitement. This egg was Euron's prize!

The mute sailor pointed toward the skeleton of a dragon not far away, indicating that he had found the egg there. Euron quickly gathered the remaining dozen or so sailors, instructing them to continue searching in hopes of finding more. However, as the sun began to set, their search yielded only a few fragments of dragon eggs of various colors, leaving them disappointed.

But considering the circumstances, it made sense. The dragon had fallen from a great height, and dragon eggs aren't particularly resistant to impact. It was a miracle that even one "sole survivor" remained intact.

Concerned about encountering other monsters, Euron decided to retreat to a safer location. Meanwhile, as soon as Viserys awoke from his Dragon Dreams, he hurried to write down the runic symbols he had seen on the Dragon Horn. Among the symbols was a line in the ancient language of Valyria, which Viserys managed to decipher: "I am the Dragonbinder. No mortal shall sound me and live. Blood for fire, fire for blood!"

What a revelation! Viserys couldn't make sense of the rest of the runic symbols, so he sent them to Shiera via his messenger raven, hoping she could "translate" them for him. He remembered that after leaving the Doom Ruins, Euron had journeyed to Qarth. There, Euron had used the "magic immunity" of Valyrian armor to capture several Warlocks and force them to teach him black magic. But that had been long ago, and at this moment, Euron was not yet a "complete being."

Viserys decided to lead a fleet of at least five warships to take him out. Five warships against one—he clearly had the advantage!

However, Viserys soon reconsidered. As he was ordering the fleet to prepare, Shiera's reply arrived. She informed Viserys that the runes were actually two spells that needed to be cast while blowing the horn. Each spell could be both "cast" and "uncast." The first spell, when cast through the horn, confuses the mind and causes a person to harm themselves. Shiera thoughtfully included the "uncast" spell in her reply.

The second spell is used to control a dragon, enabling the user to dominate the creature by blowing the horn. Shiera also knew the spell to "uncast" this one, but it too could only be performed when the horn was sounded.

When Viserys read the first half of Shiera's message, he realized why Euron had claimed that others fled at the sight of his ship. It was clear now—Euron had used the spell on the Dragon Horn to manipulate the minds of other pirates, driving them to injure themselves or even kill each other.

With the Dragonhorn, Euron was like a sea monster incarnate, terrifying anyone who crossed his path. As for the second spell—the one that allowed control over dragons—Viserys hadn't taken it seriously. After all, the dragon hadn't hatched yet; how could anyone control an egg? Even if he could command a Firewyrm, there was no way to bring such a creature to Westeros.

However, a few days later, Viserys experienced a Dragon Dream that shattered his previous assumptions and opened his eyes to a whole new realm of possibilities.

In the vision, Euron had reached the Smoking Sea and had already chosen his target. The Dragonhorn was enormous, as thick as a man's thigh and over a meter and a half long. He had constructed a special shelf-like structure on his ship to hold it. A short, stocky sailor stood before the horn, clearly prepared to blow it for Euron.

The sailor accepted his fate with a calm expression, and as he blew the horn, Euron began chanting the spell. This time, the horn's sound was different—a cacophony of roaring beasts, all mixed into one terrifying noise.

After about a minute, the short sailor collapsed, white smoke pouring from his mouth. At that very moment, a massive tentacle climbed onto the hull of the Silence. A giant sea monster, nearly 30 meters long, emerged from the depths, its ten thick tentacles gripping the ship.

The creature had a dark, single eye as large as a carriage wheel, and each tentacle was thicker than an adult's waist. Viserys estimated that a Kraken of this size could easily drag a battleship into the sea. Ordinary soldiers wouldn't stand a chance against such a monstrosity. Its opponent should be something as powerful as Ultraman!

To Viserys' surprise, none of the mute sailors aboard the Silence cowered in fear or fainted. Instead, they wore expressions of adoration and ecstasy, as if they were in the presence of a holy deity. Their faith was clearly misplaced, but unwavering.

Euron, meanwhile, locked eyes with the Kraken's dark, singular eye, silently communicating with the beast. At Euron's signal, the Kraken's thick tentacles reached out, wrapping around a sailor dressed in a seal-skin cloak and dragging him into the water.

Euron watched the sea calm with a satisfied smile, certain that he had mastered the Kraken. This realization struck Viserys hard—he understood that his initial plan to defeat Euron with just five or six warships was hopelessly inadequate. To stand a chance, he would need at least twenty warships, and he'd have to prepare some of them as "explosives" to take out both Euron and the monster simultaneously.

And that was assuming Euron couldn't control more than one Kraken.

Chapter 194: Viserys’s Parting Wish

Virgil joined Tyrosh's army as a slave, but before that, he had been an apricot slave in the pleasure gardens, where both men and women served. A month ago, Viserys selected the best soldiers from the ranks of the army, promising them that after the mission, they would be granted their freedom. Along with this, they would receive a reward of silver or tobacco equal to their weight. The offer was so generous that Virgil didn't hesitate to sign up.

Virgil had a lover named Lara, who was still a slave. On the night of Virgil's enrollment, Viserys redeemed Lara's freedom. Not just Virgil, but many others who were willing to trade their rewards or even "compensation" for the freedom of their loved ones found Viserys surprisingly accommodating. In the small officer's quarters assigned to them by Viserys, the reunited lovers embraced.

"With such generous rewards, this mission must be very dangerous, right?" Lara whispered, her voice full of worry as she clung to Virgil. She didn't want to see him put himself at risk. She had tried to persuade him to wait another year.

Viserys had chosen his soldiers from among the slaves, paying them a third of what the free soldiers earned. Virgil, a genius with ships, quickly rose to the rank of captain in the fleet. His pay was decent, and within a year, he could have bought Lara's freedom. But Virgil didn't want his lover to remain in that corrupt place a moment longer, so he volunteered for the mission.

"Don't worry," he reassured Lara, "Prince Viserys is always at the front of the battle, and he's never lost a fight." Virgil had faith in Viserys, who knew that the true power must be in his own hands. Viserys often mingled with Tyrosh's soldiers, even dining with them. Occasionally, when in the mood, he would offer them advice. His personal charisma was almost overwhelming, and his legendary story made him an idol among the troops, who nearly worshipped him.

Both Virgil and Lara, having been subjected to various drugs for so long, were almost infertile. Yet during this time, they had experienced the dignity of being human and the taste of freedom. For a month, they passionately sought each other's comfort every night, sometimes until dawn.

The fleet consisted of twenty ships and 2,000 men. It wasn't a small force, but neither was it large. It seemed excessive to use it against pirates and too audacious to launch an attack on the Free Cities. Connington, observing these moves, struggled to understand what Viserys was planning.

"Prince, just tell me what you're planning. Wildfire and dragon-shooting crossbows—where exactly are you going to attack?" Connington pressed.

Viserys had organized the fleet with the intent to attack Euron, of course. As was his custom, he first sought guidance from the Moon's Revelation. But this time, the results were troubling. The moon in his mind distorted as soon as it took shape, like a reflection on water that couldn't hold steady. This meant his journey would be fraught with danger.

Initially, Viserys assumed the failure was due to his own lack of skill, so he increased the difficulty of the Moon's Revelation to a master level. This time, the moon finally solidified in his consciousness, but what he saw was unsettling: he was being dragged into the sea by a Kraken. If he pursued Euron, it might very well cost him his life.

Viserys tried the divination again, and this time, he saw Euron in the moon—laughing maniacally from the back of a dragon. However, in the first vision, despite being dragged into the sea by the Kraken, Viserys was still fighting it and even seemed to have a slight advantage. Though how he could possibly be in the lead against a 20-meter-long Kraken was beyond him.

In the second vision, there was no doubt—Viserys had utterly failed. Realizing the slim chance of survival in this fight, he decided to take the initiative and seize that chance.

However, to calm Connington's nerves, Viserys chose not to reveal the full truth. Instead, he reassured him, "I'm going to ambush a warlock. His methods are a bit unusual, but don't worry, I'll be careful."

"How many men does this warlock have?" Connington asked, still concerned.

"He has only one ship with fewer than 200 men. The dragon-shooting bow has a long range, and the wildfire is powerful. If I can take him out from a distance, I won't need to engage directly."

Viserys's words eased Connington's worries. A force of 2,000 men against a single ship seemed like a cautious and reassuring plan.

At that moment, Viserys took another envelope from his pocket and handed it to Connington.

"Prince, what is this?" Connington asked, puzzled.

"Oh, open it together after Jon Arryn is dead," Viserys replied casually.

"Jon Arryn is going to die?" Connington asked, taken aback.

"More or less. The old man has it coming."

Although Viserys spoke nonchalantly, Connington couldn't shake a feeling of unease. 'Why give him the letter now? Why not wait until hr returned?'

Viserys handed the envelope to Connington because he was uncertain of his own fate. The envelope contained his detailed "strategy," a contingency plan in case he didn't make it back. If the worst happened, Connington could use it to give Dany an advantage in the coming War of the Five Kings.

The letter was comprehensive, covering everything from simple advice to complex tactics. It detailed which houses to court and which to punish, where and when to land forces, and the pros and cons of various landing sites.

Viserys even listed who could be trusted in Westeros and who should be avoided, essentially crafting a military campaign recommendation. He was like an anxious parent sending their child on a long journey, trying to prepare Dany for every eventuality and metaphorically placing a crown on her head.

After all, this was the ultimate showdown between himself and the "son of fortune," Euron, and he couldn't afford to be careless.

The next day, the ships that had been waiting in the harbor for some time finally set sail. Among them were four specially designed speedboats intended to intercept Euron's ship, the Silence.

"I hope the dragons hatches soon so we can fight together," Dany said, leaning on Viserys' shoulder in the carriage.

"Have you thought of a name for your dragon yet?" Viserys asked.

"I like the silver egg. How about we call it Meraxes?"

"No, Meraxes is an unlucky name," Viserys replied, vetoing her suggestion, remembering that Meraxes had been killed by the Dornish scorpion bolts.

Seeing that Dany didn't have any other ideas, Viserys gave her some final instructions. "Dany, there are two people you need to remember. Make sure you remind me to deal with them later."

Viserys rarely spoke of killing in front of Dany, even though she had taken lives before. Hearing her brother mention this, Dany's attention sharpened.

"One is Mirri, the fat witch who recently pledged her loyalty to me. Keep your distance from her as well. The other is Jon Snow, the son of Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

This was a carefully considered warning. By mentioning it now, Viserys avoided worrying Dany about his own fate while also planting a seed of caution in her mind. If he didn't return, she would know not to trust these two people—and might even eliminate them as part of fulfilling his "last wish."

Although Dany couldn't yet see any connection between these two individuals, she knew Viserys well enough to take his words seriously and keep them in mind.

Chapter 195: The Stallion Who Mounts the World

As soon as Viserys departed Tyrosh, the Horselord sent his own envoy to the city. Drogo dispatched his fiercest man, Ko Jhaqo, accompanied by twenty of the most capable warriors from his khalasar. Each of these warriors bore at least five silver bells in their braids, symbols of their participation in the massacre and plunder of at least five villages.

Jhaqo entered Tyrosh alongside the Unsullied and the Young Connigton. With no fewer than ten silver bells and three gold bells jingling in his hair, Jhaqo eyed the city greedily. The population of this single city was equivalent to half of his entire horse tribe. If they could plunder it, it would solve the tribe's current hardships.

The people of Tyrosh, intimidated by the sight of these horsemen with their large, ghostly tattoos, quickly stepped aside, avoiding them on the streets. This only fueled Jhaqo's arrogance. He felt like a wolf among sheep, his gaze causing them to tremble and retreat into corners.

He looked over at young Connington, who was leading the Unsullied, and felt nothing but disdain. "A milkman is a milkman—looks more like a woman than a man," he sneered to himself.

But... Jhaqo's eyes flicked to the Unsullied marching alongside him. To the Dothraki, the Unsullied were a bitter reminder of past humiliation.

Years ago, tens of thousands of Dothraki had been forced to cut off their braids in submission to these cold-blooded killing machines at Qohor. The fear had since turned into hatred. There was always someone in the khalasar dreaming of leading the Dothraki to defeat the Unsullied once and for all.

'As long as Drogo is with us, we'll tear these eggless bastards to pieces,' Jhaqo thought, as they approached the palace.

The sight of Tyrosh's palace was another revelation for him. The ground was paved with hard stone slabs, surrounded by exquisite sculptures and fountains. In the distance, the three-headed dragon banner fluttered atop the bell tower, making Jhaqo's mouth water with desire. The warriors around him couldn't hide their greedy glances at the palace maids.

Jhaqo imagined how glorious it would be if all this belonged to him. The palace was even more magnificent than the nine towers manse in Pentos, which had been gifted to the Horselord by wealthy merchants.

Young Connington gestured ahead. "Lord Jhaqo, the throne hall is straight ahead."

Jhaqo glanced at the grand hall before him and barked, "Dango, Belo, you two come with me. The rest of you wait here." Without hesitation, he grabbed the reins and rode straight toward the throne hall. This was more than just a breach of etiquette—it was an outright provocation.

Young Connington quickly stepped forward, blocking Jhaqo's path. "My lord, please walk with me."

But Jhaqo continued as if he hadn't heard him, forcing Young Connington to raise his voice and stand his ground. "My lord, please walk with me!"

Jhaqo finally turned his gaze to the silver-haired boy, his tone dripping with mockery. "Young lord, for us Dothraki, horses are our legs. You want me to leave my legs behind? How can that be?"

Young Connington hesitated, unsure how to respond. Flushing slightly, he insisted, "You cannot ride into the throne room. It's the rule here!"

Jhaqo's patience thinned. As the strongest Ko under Drogo, being blocked by a mere child would make him a laughingstock among his people. Even Drogo might no longer take him seriously—a humiliation he couldn't tolerate. In the Dothraki camp, he would have whipped his horse and charged into a fight by now.

His voice was a low growl. "I'll say this one last time: get out of my way!"

"No! My lord, please dismount," Young Connington repeated, standing firm.

Behind Jhaqo, the warriors he had left outside sensed the tension and instinctively placed their hands on the hilts of their curved swords. The situation was on the verge of exploding when Connington, the administrator of Tyrosh, rode up. He recognized that Jhaqo was likely here to provoke them, but with Viserys gone, he couldn't afford a direct confrontation with the Dothraki. Tyrosh alone could not match their strength, and even the combined forces of the three Free Cities in the Disputed Lands struggled against Drogo's khalasar.

Connington spoke loudly, offering a diplomatic solution. "My lord, I am the administrator of Tyrosh. If you're unwilling to discuss matters in the throne hall, perhaps we could move to the palace garden instead?"

His words provided an escape from the escalating tension, allowing both sides to step back without losing face.

Jhaqo laughed, "Hahaha, yes, we Dothraki don't care for stone houses."

With that, Connington and Jhaqo rode their horses into the palace garden. The garden was a riot of color, filled with flowers and carefully planned paths, a stark contrast to the tension just moments before.

In the center of the garden was a small fountain, next to which stood a pavilion. As Jhaqo surveyed the well-kept grounds, a grin spread across his face. Without a second thought, he let his horse graze on the lush flowerbeds. The once-beautiful blooms were quickly reduced to red-stained mulch in the horse's mouth, a crude display that could only be described as "a cow chewing peonies."

Young Connington watched the scene unfold, gritting his teeth but remaining silent, adhering to the principle of not causing unnecessary trouble for Viserys.

The two men sat down, and a maid promptly brought them tea. Connington opened the conversation, "I've heard that the Lord has come to Tyrosh to make amends?"

"Yes, of course, we're here to make amends. We deeply regret that some of our Dothraki raided your village out of hunger the other day," Jhaqo replied, though his face betrayed no hint of remorse, as if he were discussing something that didn't concern him.

Connington, however, sneered inwardly. 'Hunger?' he thought. 'Is that what you call pillaging?' Since receiving reports of Dothraki harassment along the border, the number of civilians and caravans they had slaughtered had climbed into the hundreds. This wasn't an isolated incident of desperation; it was a deliberate provocation.

Connington knew where this was headed. The next part of the conversation would have nothing to do with genuine reparations. The Dothraki were here to extort Tyrosh—just as they had done to others in the Disputed Lands before. Whether it was Tyrosh's army, the Magisters of Myr, or the Princes of Lys, all had paid off the Dothraki to keep the peace. It was a common tactic, similar to what Pentos had to endure, though Pentos paid more dearly due to its unfortunate location.

Suddenly, Jhaqo changed the subject. "By the way, where is your Archon? I believe the one ruling Tyrosh is called Viserys or something..."

Connington's expression remained neutral as he corrected, "Lord Jhaqo, there is no Archon in Tyrosh now. Prince Viserys is the Regent of Tyrosh."

Jhaqo chuckled, dismissing the titles. "Ha, you milkmen love to invent all sorts of confusing titles. So where is this Viserys now?"

"Prince Viserys is not in Tyrosh at the moment," Connington replied seriously. "It will likely be about a month before he returns."

Upon hearing this, Jhaqo's demeanor shifted to one of impatience. "Then tell me, can you make decisions on what I'm about to propose?"

"You may speak first, and I will convey it," Connington replied calmly.

Jhaqo crossed his arms, his tone becoming more demanding. "No, you tell me first—can you decide or not?"

"That depends on the matter," Connington answered, holding his ground. "If it's within my authority, there will be no problem. Before the Regent left, he granted me a great deal of autonomy."

Jhaqo studied him for a moment, then leaned forward, his golden earrings swaying and catching the light. "I don't know if you're aware, but the Red Waste is expanding, and the Great Grass Sea is slowly receding. The Horselord's people have no choice but to take what they need. Khal Drogo sent me to ask for supplies to survive the drought."

Connington understood their true intentions now—they were here to take advantage of Tyrosh's resources.

"So, how much does Khal Drogo intend to 'borrow'?" Connington inquired, deliberately framing it as a loan rather than a gift.

Jhaqo, unfazed by the choice of words, shrugged. Whether it was borrowed or taken by force, whatever he could secure by his own strength was his to claim. "Khal Drogo has sent me to request 10,000 pounds of barley, 10,000 pounds of salt, 10,000 pounds of tea, 1,000 slaves, and 100,000 pounds of fodder."

Though Connington had no intention of fulfilling these demands, he couldn't help but mentally calculate the value of the requested goods. The total came to around 400,000 gold dragons—a sum nearly equivalent to Tyrosh's entire annual tax revenue, excluding the profits from tobacco. If he agreed to Jhaqo's demands, Viserys would undoubtedly dismiss him upon his return.

Connington began cautiously, "Lord Jhaqo, the quantity and value of these goods are immense. Tyrosh cannot provide them all at once."

Jhaqo's mouth curled into a sneer, the tattoos on his face twisting with his expression, reflecting his dissatisfaction. In truth, his demands far exceeded what Drogo had actually requested—Jhaqo was angling for a personal gain.

"So, how much can you give us now?" Jhaqo pressed. "But I'll warn you, if it's not enough, I won't be able to control my hungry warriors. They'll plunder as many villages as they please, and there won't be anything I can do to stop them."

The threat was as blatant as it was menacing. Even Young Connington, standing nearby, was shocked and angered by the barbarian's audacious demands. But Connington knew better than to escalate the situation. Jhaqo's arrogance was bolstered by Drogo's backing and the might of 50,000 fierce warriors.

Connington attempted to negotiate, "If we reduce the amount by half, we might consider assisting Khal Drogo..."

But Jhaqo cut him off. "What? Halve it again? Are you trying to starve us to death? Do you want the Horselord's people to perish?"

Connington sighed inwardly. "I'm sorry, Lord Jhaqo, but the supplies you're asking for are far too large. I don't have the authority to make that decision."

Jhaqo studied him for a moment before responding, "In that case, I have another request. By order of the Khal, I need you to send someone."

"Please, go on," Connington replied, unsure of what Drogo might want.

Jhaqo's eyes gleamed with cunning. "If it's just one person, then you should be able to decide, right?"

"If it's just one person, I think I can help," Connington agreed, though he remained wary.

"Khal Drogo wants to marry your Regent, Prince Viserys's sister, Daenerys. Their union will bring forth the stallion who mounts the world!" Jhaqo declared, his voice swelling with intoxication at the thought.

Connington, however, was deeply unsettled. Regardless of whether Viserys would agree to such a marriage, Connington was firmly against it. Viserys had spent the last two or three years navigating a treacherous path, striving to change his and Dany's fate. The idea of sending Dany to a Horselord's bed was unthinkable—it would be better to kill him now than to ask him to make that sacrifice.

From Connington's perspective, marrying Dany to Drogo was a poor bargain. Dany's marriage would be far more advantageous if it secured an alliance with Dorne or Highgarden, not with a barbarian horde. Even if Drogo commanded 50,000 warriors, what could they do? Could their horses swim across the Narrow Sea? Connington was skeptical of the Dothraki's effectiveness in Westeros. While they excelled in open-field combat, Westeros was full of castles and fortresses, which would severely limit the Dothraki's impact.

So Connington firmly refused to help. "What do you mean?" Jhaqo snapped. "If you don't help us, are you saying you won't even allow the Dothraki to save themselves?"

"Save yourselves?" Connington echoed, puzzled by the connection between marrying Dany and the Dothraki's survival.

Jhaqo then explained the Dothraki prophecy. "Only the 'stallion who mounts the world' can save the Dothraki, and that stallion will be the child of Daenerys and Khal Drogo."

Connington was unimpressed. In fact, he found prophecies annoying. If Rhaegar hadn't been so obsessed with the prophecy of the dragon with three heads, the Targaryens might still be on the Iron Throne. But Connington couldn't simply dismiss Jhaqo outright, so he arranged for the Dothraki to stay in Tyrosh, explaining that the matter would have to wait until Viserys returned.

Though he knew this request was impossible, Jhaqo was confident that Viserys wouldn't refuse an alliance with the most powerful Khal in history, especially when all it required was the marriage of one woman. Convinced that Viserys would agree, Jhaqo settled into Tyrosh with a carefree attitude.

Following Viserys's instructions, Connington "appeased" the Dothraki by treating them with hospitality, providing good food and drink, which kept Jhaqo and his men content. Viserys had been clear: they were to avoid provoking the Dothraki, show deference if necessary, and maintain the peace until he returned—or until Dany hatched her dragon and it was fully battle-ready.

Chapter 196: The Battle in the “Silence”

Normally, a fleet commander would use signal flags to issue orders to the other ships. However, Viserys's fleet was spread so far apart that the only reliable way to communicate was by using the messenger ravens he had brought along. The twenty ships formed a loose chain or a wide net as they pressed toward Valyria.

Through his Dragon Dreams, Viserys had roughly pinpointed Euron's location. To close in, he sent out his golden eagle to scour the sea, hoping to trap him. After six or seven days of sailing, the distance between Viserys's fleet and Euron's ship had narrowed to just a few dozen nautical miles.

Viserys ordered his trusted aide, Regis, "Spread the word to everyone: cover your ears and keep an eye on the golden eagle overhead."

"Yes, my lord," Regis responded promptly.

As the sky darkened, the fading light began to work against the fleet's efforts to surround Euron. Viserys, scanning the sea intently, suddenly noticed a few crows circling below—an odd sight over open water. He immediately realized that Euron must be nearby.

Meanwhile, Euron sat in his cabin, contemplating three items laid out before him: a blue dragon egg, Valyrian armor, and the black-and-gold Dragonbinder horn. The dragon egg's value was unquestionable, and Euron had already discovered that the Valyrian armor rendered all magical attacks ineffective. The Dragonbinder horn, which could create illusions and command sea monsters in the Smoking Sea, was his most prized possession. Euron was convinced that if he could hatch the dragon egg, he could control the dragon without needing Valyrian blood.

As he held the still-warm horn on his lap, Euron's eyes gleamed with both hope and the burning desire for revenge. With these treasures from Valyria, he vowed to kill Viserys.

Suddenly, Euron's view shifted—through the eyes of a raven, he spotted several warships approaching from the horizon, clearly heading in his direction.

'No good!' Euron thought, his heart racing. He quickly commanded his ravens to spread out, giving him a broader view of the surrounding sea. But before he could fully assess the situation, a shadow flashed before his eyes, followed by a sharp pain in his head.

A golden eagle had struck, preying upon one of his ravens.

Euron swiftly shifted his focus to another raven, only to see the same golden eagle swooping down again. The realization hit him—this eagle belonged to a skinchanger, and the identity of that skinchanger was unmistakable.

"Viserys!" Euron hissed, first with anger, then with a creeping sense of dread. How had Viserys found his location? Did he somehow know what Euron had done in Valyria?

Panic set in as he understood the gravity of the situation. 'Now's not the time to ponder', he thought. 'Viserys is prepared, and he has the element of surprise. I must flee.'

Recognizing the need for immediate action, Euron barked orders to his mute sailors. The Silence cut a sharp white arc across the deep blue sea, turning east to escape. The ship's speed was formidable, and after altering course, it began to widen the gap between itself and Viserys's fleet.

Under normal circumstances, the pursuing fleet would have been left in the Silence's wake, struggling to keep up. But Viserys had anticipated this and had prepared accordingly.

Virgil kept a close eye on the golden eagle circling above, and the moment he saw its signal, he turned and shouted, "Everyone! Stop the Silence and follow the Prince!"

"Follow the Prince!" the sailors roared back in unison. Four specially-made speedboats shot forward like arrows, leaving white trails in the water as they raced toward the Silence. Viserys had given them a clear mission: stop the Silence at all costs, even if it meant ramming the ship.

Virgil didn't fully understand why Viserys was waging war against a mere pirate ship. All he knew was that Viserys had saved him from the clutches of the pleasure garden, where slave owners indulged in their twisted tastes. Now, he fought for Viserys with everything he had, feeling more alive than ever. Whether it was the sting of the salty sea breeze or the thunder of battle in his ears, Virgil felt like a true warrior.

'Lara, wait for me!' he thought as he scanned the horizon. Soon, he spotted a black sailboat cutting swiftly through the golden light of the setting sun, heading in the direction the golden eagle had indicated.

'That ship is fast!' Virgil thought, but he knew Viserys's ship was even faster.

Euron, aware of the problem, urged his mute sailors to push the Silence to its limits. But even as the Silence sped forward, Virgil could see the excitement in his own crew's faces as they closed in. Viserys's ships were clearly designed for this purpose—sacrificing other features for sheer speed and intercepting power.

Despite the Silence's formidable speed, the distance between the ships continued to shrink rapidly: 300 meters, 100 meters, 50 meters, 30 meters…

In a flash, Virgil led the four speedboats into a collision course with the Silence.

Crack!

The sound of splintering wood echoed across the sea as the prow of one of Virgil's speedboats crashed into the Silence's hull. One by one, the other speedboats followed, embedding themselves into the pirate ship's sides.

While the impact wasn't enough to sink the black-hulled Silence, it significantly slowed the ship, giving Viserys the opportunity he needed. With the Silence hampered, Viserys led the rest of his fleet to close in, effectively surrounding Euron.

Euron watched as Virgil and his men threw grappling hooks onto the Silence. Now, he was certain—Viserys had some special means of tracking his location. These speedboats were clearly designed specifically for this moment.

With a subtle nod, Euron signaled a nearby sailor, who quickly ran to his cabin and returned with the ominous dragon horn. Without hesitation, the mute sailor positioned the horn toward Virgil's ship, took a deep breath, and blew with all his might.

As the eerie, resonant sound of the horn filled the air, Euron placed his hand on it, chanting the incantation engraved along its surface. His lips moved silently, and his cheeks glowed as if he held a red-hot iron in his mouth. The power of the dragon horn demanded a price—each time it was used, it claimed a human life. But Euron didn't care.

To him, a sailor was just another part of the ship, a piece that could be replaced at any time.

The sailor who blew the horn soon collapsed, his strength completely drained. Euron, with a cold indifference, grabbed the lifeless body and tossed it into the sea without a second thought.

When he turned his gaze back to the speedboat, he saw Virgil's sailors leaping into the water one by one, driven mad by the horn's terrible power. It wouldn't be long before they were all dead, victims of the horn's dark magic.

Chapter 197: Counter Spell

A piercing cry from the golden eagle shattered the silence, cutting through the clouds. The sailors, who had been lost in the horn's enchantment, suddenly snapped back to reality. Even the man who had just jumped into the sea struggled to swim back to the ship.

Euron looked up, shock and anger flashing in his eyes. He had studied the runes on the horn extensively and knew that the spells inscribed on it were like passwords, with "spells" and corresponding "counter-spells." The cry of the golden eagle was clearly a counter-spell, disrupting the horn's magic.

'He's been watching me', Euron realized with a cold dread. 'Did Viserys know all along? Did he anticipate that I would retrieve the horn from Valyria's ruins?'

But now was not the time for reflection. Although he had just managed to shake off some of the speedboats clinging to his ship, the delay had cost him dearly. Viserys's fleet was closing in fast.

Virgil, now fully aware, had lost two of his speedboats, but he relentlessly steered the remaining two toward the Silence, determined to ram it at any cost.

'I have to get out of this', Euron thought urgently. He grabbed another sailor, who, though terrified, reluctantly put his mouth to the horn, trembling. Like his predecessor, the sailor took a deep breath and blew with all his might. Euron began chanting the spell once more.

Viserys, sensing the dark magic in the horn's sound, knew that Euron was now summoning the Kraken.

Meanwhile, in the other direction, the fleet led by Webber rapidly closed in on the Silence. The warships were now within 200 meters, with the gaps between them narrowing to less than 30 meters. More than ten ships had surrounded the Silence, cutting off any possible escape. To Webber, the battle seemed all but over, and he felt a surge of respect for Virgil, who had led much of the fight. He had already decided never to call Virgil a "hooker" again.

But then, something caught Webber's eye—a mast rising out of the water. The sun, now low in the sky, cast long shadows, making it difficult to see clearly. At first, Webber thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then more masts appeared, one after another, surrounding Virgil's ship.

'No! Those aren't masts!'

The horrifying realization struck him—these "masts" were alive, thick tentacles rising from the depths and wrapping themselves around Virgil's ship.

"What... what is this thing!?" Webber gasped.

Before Virgil could react, one of the enormous tentacles coiled around him and yanked him into the sea.

Webber barely had time to register the horror before the ship, now ensnared by the Kraken's tentacles, began to shake violently. The deck and railings creaked and groaned under the immense pressure, the sound so terrifying it seemed as though the very bones of the ship—and his own—were breaking.

"What should I do? Attack?" Webber's voice quivered with uncertainty as panic gripped him. He didn't see himself as a coward, but faced with a monster capable of dragging a battleship into the depths, his legs felt like they might give out.

Around him, the sailors were already making their own choices. When the Kraken's tentacles first broke the surface, some ships continued moving forward out of sheer momentum. But when Virgil's warship was pulled under, a heavy silence fell over the battlefield. No one had ever witnessed anything like this before. Even the normally unshakable Unsullied were gripped by panic. Despite the careful selection of soldiers Viserys had made for this mission, two or three ships broke ranks and fled.

The fear was palpable, even among those closest to Viserys. Regis, who had always been by his side, felt his legs go weak. Sensing the growing fear, Viserys stepped to the bow of his ship and shouted to his men, his voice cutting through the terror that gripped them:

"Soldiers! The one controlling this monster is not invincible. If we don't kill him today, he will threaten your sons and grandsons for generations! On my command, full speed ahead!"

Galvanized by his words, the sailors sprang into action, adjusting the sails and pushing the ship to three times its normal speed. Viserys knew that today was the day Euron had to be defeated, no matter the cost. The Dragon's Horn, and even his own ability to project his consciousness beyond his body, were threats that could not be left unchecked. If Euron was allowed to escape, the consequences would be unthinkable—unimaginable terror could be unleashed upon the lands under his rule.

Soon, Euron spotted Viserys's flagship. With a wicked grin, he maneuvered the Kraken beneath it. Suddenly, everyone on board felt a violent tremor beneath their feet as thick, slimy tentacles wrapped around the hull.

The soldiers, who had only just gathered the courage to fight under Viserys's encouragement, were now paralyzed with fear. Jump into the sea? But the monster is in the sea. Attack? How could they fight something so terrifying—a creature beyond anything their fathers, grandfathers, or even great-grandfathers had ever faced?

In the face of this unknown terror, their courage crumbled.

Then, the Kraken's enormous head surfaced on the starboard side of the warship, its height towering over half the mast. Its gigantic eyes, larger than carriage wheels, glared at them with a malevolence that chilled them to the bone. The blackness of its eyes was more terrifying than the abyss itself.

Viserys suddenly understood that Euron wasn't just controlling the Kraken; there was a bond between them, akin to that of a skinchanger and his animal companion. It wasn't just the fact that Euron hadn't blown the Dragon Horn this time—Viserys could see the same malevolent gleam in the Kraken's eyes that he had seen in Euron's. This wasn't a predator's instinctive desire for prey; it was a twisted excitement, a perverse pleasure in witnessing life and death.

Panic erupted on the flagship. Some men, overwhelmed with fear, jumped into the sea, only to face the monster below.

Determined to turn the tide, Viserys grabbed two large jars of wildfire and hurled them at the Kraken. The jars shattered on impact, and two bright, yellow-green flames erupted, blossoming like deadly flowers against the darkening sky. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving only a faint glow, making the fiery explosion all the more vivid against the pitch-black sea.

The Kraken writhed in pain, its tentacles loosening their grip on the ship as it attempted to retreat into the depths.

Seizing the moment, Viserys called upon his fire magic, conjuring two massive green-yellow serpents from the flames. They coiled around the Kraken, forcing the beast to release the flagship completely and sink back into the ocean. Though it hadn't been killed, the Kraken had been driven off, and the ship was free.

Viserys saw that the Silence was now less than twenty meters away. He shouted, "Overpower it!"

But chaos still reigned on the flagship, and the helmsman, paralyzed with fear, couldn't even stand. Euron, seeing his chance, had already changed direction and was attempting to flee.

Chapter 198: Bleeding Star

The night had fully fallen, cloaking the sea in darkness. Viserys estimated that the Silence was just over 20 meters away from his flagship. Scanning the deck, he spotted a bundle of ropes. With a quick calculation, he guessed they were about 13 or 14 meters long. There was no time to hesitate—he couldn't let Euron escape. The Moon's Revelation had already shown him the horrifying consequences if he did.

Viserys tied the rope to his halberd and moved to the center of the warship. Regis, uncertain of Viserys's intentions, watched with growing concern, thinking, 'Is this even possible?'

Viserys grasped the rope in one hand and hefted the halberd onto his shoulder with the other, preparing to launch himself. Through the eyes of a crow, Euron saw Viserys's figure on the Silence, but he remained skeptical—no one could possibly leap across a gap of over twenty meters.

But Viserys was determined. He gathered all his strength, and with a sudden burst of speed, sprinted toward the bow of the ship. In a single, fluid motion, he stepped onto the bow rudder and leaped high into the air, arcing gracefully toward the Silence.

At the peak of his jump, he hurled the halberd with all his might. The weapon flew through the night air, its cold steel glinting as it pierced the darkness. The halberd struck true, embedding itself into the mast of the Silence and anchoring the rope firmly.

But the distance was too great—Viserys couldn't land directly on Euron's deck. Instead, he found himself dangling from the side of the Silence, clutching the taut rope.

Without hesitation, he drew his sword and slashed through the rope with a swift, decisive stroke.

Swish—

The rope, once taut, went slack and dropped.

"Did he fall?" Euron muttered to himself, relief starting to wash over him. But caution nagged at him, and he stepped forward to confirm.

He hadn't taken more than two steps when Viserys suddenly vaulted from the rigging, landing hard on the deck of the Silence.

He rose to his feet and scanned his surroundings. About thirty sailors stood around Euron, their eyes wide with fear. Their expressions mirrored those of the soldiers on his own flagship who had just witnessed the Kraken—one terrorized by a monster of the deep, the other by the human monster standing before them.

"Kill him!" Euron barked, and the mute sailors charged at Viserys with spears and knives.

Viserys drew his Valyrian steel sword, running his left hand lightly along the blade. Instantly, orange-red flames erupted along its length, engulfing the sword in fire. Euron's eyes narrowed—he recognized this as the fire magic he had seen in Volantis. It was clear that Viserys had made significant strides in magic during this time.

The flaming sword sliced through the air, leaving trails of fire in its wake. The mute sailors, despite their ferocity, couldn't get close to Viserys. His swordsmanship was impeccable, each swing of the blade carving arcs of flame that kept his attackers at bay. With the limited space on the deck, Viserys weaved left and right, cutting down five or six mute sailors in quick succession.

But Viserys's focus was singular—he knew there was only one man he had to kill today: Euron. Raising his voice, he shouted, "I'm here to kill Euron! Stay out of my way, and I'll grant you your freedom after he's dead!"

The mute sailors, however, didn't falter. They advanced with unwavering loyalty, as if they hadn't heard him at all. Viserys wasn't surprised; through his many Dragon Dreams, he had learned just how fiercely devoted these men were to Euron.

Euron glanced over his shoulder, seeing several warships rapidly closing in. Without hesitation, he drew a black spear from his side, its material unmistakable—Dragonbone. It was clear he intended to fight Viserys directly.

This move caught Viserys off guard. 'Does Euron really think he can match me?' he wondered. But with the enemy confronting him, there was no choice but to engage.

The two clashed, Viserys's flaming sword meeting Euron's Dragonbone spear. With a powerful swing, Viserys knocked the spear aside and swept his sword toward Euron. Euron instinctively dodged backward, but he hadn't anticipated what happened next—the blade suddenly extended, the flames stretching out and striking him squarely in the chest.

But instead of cutting through, the sword stopped as if it had hit a stone wall. Viserys realized with a jolt what was protecting Euron: Valyrian armor, renowned for its extreme resistance to magic.

'Valyrian armor!' Viserys thought, suddenly understanding why his attack had been ineffective.

The armor's magical resistance was formidable, far beyond what his current abilities could overcome. This was the same armor that had allowed Euron to capture several powerful Warlocks after leaving Valyria—it was his key to withstanding even the most potent magic.

Euron finally grasped the true power of his Valyrian armor. Though his swordsmanship and martial prowess were no match for Viserys, this enchanted armor made him nearly invincible. The realization bolstered his confidence—despite being outmatched in skill, he had the upper hand.

Seeing this, Euron's sailors seemed to come to the same conclusion. Though Viserys still pressed the attack, the mute sailors understood that, with Euron's armor, their captain would eventually prevail. One by one, they picked up their weapons and began to encircle Viserys once more.

Years of servitude had stripped them of any hope for freedom. Euron's words had burrowed deep into their minds, like nails driven into their bones, extinguishing any thoughts of rebellion. The absence of the Kraken, which had not resurfaced, further emboldened them.

Euron, however, felt a twinge of anxiety. He couldn't afford to waste any more time with Viserys—he needed to find a way to escape, and quickly.

Just then, Euron noticed something strange: a red glow on Viserys's face. Glancing around, he saw that his sailors were also bathed in a crimson light. The entire deck and sails were reflecting the same eerie glow.

Viserys looked up and saw a red object streaking through the clouds. His first thought was that it might be a missile, but he quickly dismissed the idea—there were no missiles in this world. It was a comet—a blood-red comet, a Bleeding Star.

Viserys knew immediately what this omen signified. The tide of magic was rising, and the time dragons will hatch was near.

For a brief moment, the red comet broke through the clouds, its fiery light spilling across the sea and capturing everyone's attention. Even as they maintained their fighting stances, both Viserys and Euron looked up in awe.

"My gods, what is that?" a soldier whispered.

"A red meteor?" murmured another.

But whatever it was, Viserys and Euron now had only one goal in mind: to kill each other. The appearance of the comet only heightened their resolve, each understanding that only one of them would walk away from this battle.

Chapter 199: Decapitating Euron

The appearance of the Red Comet momentarily quelled the fighting on the battlefield. But the pause was brief. At the captain's command, Viserys's warships resumed their encirclement of Euron's Silence. However, something felt different—Viserys and Euron both sensed it.

The Red Comet stirred something within them, a sensation they hadn't experienced before. It was as if a dormant power had awakened inside their bodies, like a sense long forgotten had suddenly been restored. The air tasted different, richer, as if filled with something magical.

It was magic!

Both men felt a surge of power swelling within them. Viserys quickly checked his internal panel and saw the 'Magic' column rising rapidly. The numbers climbed higher and higher—one hundred, one hundred and three, one hundred and seven, two hundred and six, three hundred and nine... It kept rising until it reached seven hundred before finally stopping.

Viserys knew that Euron must have felt the same surge, and possibly even more intensely. Euron ran to the Dragon's Horn and blew it himself.

Bling!

A deep, resonant sound echoed across the sea, reaching the ears of soldiers on the other ships. Anxiety rippled through the ranks as they gripped their weapons tightly, fearing the reappearance of the Kraken. The tension was palpable, like standing on the edge of a precipice.

Suddenly, Viserys's ship lurched violently, as if struck by something massive. Several soldiers, caught off guard, were thrown to the deck but quickly scrambled to their feet. The unsettling part was that the impact wasn't confined to just one ship—it rippled through the entire fleet.

Curious and alarmed, some sailors dared to peer over the railings, scanning the dark waters below. But they didn't see the terrifying tentacles they had expected.

"Did we hit a reef?" one sailor muttered.

Boom!

Another impact rocked the ships, and this time, the cause became clear. In the red glow of the comet, several massive fins as large as sails emerged from the sea.

It wasn't the Kraken this time—it was sharks and whales. Euron had summoned these enormous sea creatures instead.

Viserys scanned the chaos around him. He watched as whales and sharks leaped out of the water, smashing into the ships. One of the specially built speedboats was capsized by a whale's impact, flipping upside down in the water before being swallowed by the ocean within moments. The sailors who had been thrown into the sea were quickly torn apart by the sharks, the scent of blood thickening in the sea breeze.

"This dragon horn is fucking powerful!" Viserys muttered, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Euron. He noticed smoke rising from Euron's throat—an unsettling sight. Euron had driven his finger into a sailor's throat, using blood magic to heal the wounds inflicted by the horn's power.

At some point, Euron's eye patch had fallen off, revealing a completely black eye that now stared directly at Viserys. The sight was unsettling, but Viserys held his ground as Euron grabbed another sailor and forced him to blow the Dragon Horn once more. The sea creatures responded with a renewed, ferocious attack on Viserys's fleet.

But Viserys, now brimming with magic, was ready.

He drove his flaming sword into the deck, and a whirlwind of flames erupted around him, the heat so intense it knocked nearby sailors off their feet. The mute sailors, who had been closing in, were forced to retreat, unable to withstand the blistering heat. The flames spread rapidly, forcing Euron's ally, Dorren, to retreat as well.

Dorren knew he didn't stand a chance against Viserys's newfound power—he hadn't yet mastered any significant magic, and his plan was to head to Qohor to kidnap some Warlocks and learn black magic. But that was of little use now; any closer, and he would be at a severe disadvantage.

As Viserys advanced, Euron, now in a panic, ordered a flock of crows to attack. But the birds, driven by suicidal intent, were no more effective than moths drawn to a flame. They disintegrated in the fiery whirlwind surrounding Viserys.

Desperate, Euron used blood magic to heal himself slightly, then lunged at Viserys with his Dragonbone spear. But Viserys was ready. As the two closed in on each other, Viserys grabbed the spear with one hand, nullifying the attack. The power flowing through him only grew stronger—he could feel his magic increasing, as if even Euron's attack had somehow strengthened him.

Viserys swung his Valyrian steel sword at Euron's right arm, but Euron, in a last-ditch effort, grabbed the Dragon Horn and swung it at Viserys. The blow connected, but Viserys, gritting his teeth, absorbed the impact and followed through with his strike, severing Euron's arm.

The heavy horn clattered to the deck as Viserys's sword sliced clean through Euron's neck. There was no need for words. Euron's death was the only option—he was too dangerous to be left alive, and Viserys had no interest in whatever dark secrets he might hold. In this world, villains like Euron only grew more dangerous with every breath they took.

Euron's head flew from his shoulders, spinning three and a half times in the air before landing with a dull thud on the deck.

As Viserys looked down at Euron's headless corpse, he felt a wave of relief. Turning to the mute sailors who had once served Euron so loyally, he saw that they were all staring at the fallen body in stunned silence.

"Put down your weapons," Viserys commanded. "I won't kill you."

These men, no matter the crimes they had committed under Euron's command, had endured his torture for so long that Viserys considered them partially redeemed. He planned to have them screened and, after a period of labor to reform, they could be allowed to return to the world of normal men.

However, Viserys quickly realized something was wrong. The sailors stood motionless, as if frozen in time, their bodies rigid like wax figures. The eerie sight sent a wave of unease through Viserys.

"Of course," Viserys muttered to himself, recalling the vision from the Moon's Revelation where he had fought the Kraken. It dawned on him that the battle wasn't over yet. Despite this, he still attempted to rouse the mute sailors. "Drop your weapons. I don't—"

But before he could finish, the sailors abruptly turned, sprinted to the railing, and leaped into the sea as if driven by a sudden, desperate urge.

Through the eyes of the golden eagle, Viserys saw the sailors scattering in all directions. He quickly realized what was happening: Euron had transferred his consciousness into them, using the power of the Red Comet to control more than a dozen individuals simultaneously.

'Am I really going to let them escape?' Viserys thought.

Determined not to lose Euron's spirit, Viserys lay down on the deck and forced himself into sleep. Under the influence of the Red Comet, his Dragon Dreams were sharper, more vivid than ever before. In the dream, he scanned the area, carefully determining the direction of Euron's consciousness.

Without hesitation, he woke, leaped to his feet, and dove into the sea, following the trail of Euron's escaping spirit.

Chapter 200: Kraken

The Red Comet faded from sight, leaving behind soldiers struggling to stay afloat amid the wreckage of shattered ships.

An Unsullied soldier clung to a piece of driftwood, trying to haul himself onto it when he felt something tug him down. A sharp pain shot through his leg as he was pulled beneath the waves, a trail of dark red bubbles bursting on the surface in his wake.

The soldiers fought desperately to stay afloat, but the sharks, drawn by the scent of blood and the flesh of their fallen comrades, were relentless. Although the effects of the Dragon's Horn had gradually dissipated, the stench of blood still hung in the air, keeping the predators circling. The sharks, once summoned by the horn, now feasted on the remains, making any attempt at rescue exceedingly difficult.

Some attempted to shoot arrows to aid their comrades in the water, but the limited visibility rendered their efforts nearly futile.

Viserys' flagship had escaped severe damage, thanks to its sturdy hull.

Regis, finally regaining his composure, looked around and climbed the mast to count the surviving ships. Of the twenty warships that had set sail, only thirteen remained. The loss of life was staggering; half of the fleet was gone. Even some of the sturdier ships had sunk, not to mention the swift vessels led by Virgil in the interception attempt.

'Wait... Prince!' Regis suddenly remembered Viserys' daring leap onto Euron's deck and wondered what had become of him.

"Up! All of you! Get close to the Silence and prepare to take it!" he commanded, taking charge of the flagship in Viserys' absence. The two ships were only thirty meters apart, and with a slight adjustment in direction, they could be brought together.

Regis led a small group aboard the Silence using grappling hooks. As they climbed aboard, a soldier approached him, holding a torch in one hand and a severed head in the other. "My lord, there's a human head here!"

Regis quickly identified it as Euron's. He had seen Euron in Orange Shore Bay and was certain there was no mistake. But if Euron was dead, where was Viserys?

After ordering Euron's body to be collected, Regis commanded a thorough search of the Silence. Nearly fifty men scoured every corner of the ship, but Viserys was nowhere to be found. Panic flickered within Regis, but he quickly forced himself to remain calm.

'No, the Prince is a strong swimmer. He'll be fine,' he reassured himself. Knowing that Viserys' disappearance couldn't be revealed just yet, he addressed the others, "Take control of this ship. Do not disturb any of the items. Rescue the soldiers who fell into the water immediately!"

"Yes!" came the immediate response.

Regis then sent a message to the other warships, announcing their victory, and ordered them to begin rescuing the soldiers who had fallen into the sea.

He personally took a small boat and headed in the most likely direction to search for Viserys.

Meanwhile, Viserys was in pursuit of a mute sailor who had taken over by Euron's spirit. With his superhuman constitution, Viserys swam nearly the entire way without needing to breathe, eventually spotting a figure swimming north.

Before Euron could react, he felt as if his ankles were clamped in iron. Glancing back, he saw no one but Viserys.

Euron wanted to curse, but he had forgotten that he had already cut out his tongue.

As Viserys closed in, he delivered a powerful punch to Euron's leg. The immense pain immediately incapacitated him. Without hesitation, Viserys grabbed Euron's neck, causing Euron to black out.

Feeling the crisp snap beneath his palm, Viserys knew this body was now lifeless.

Just as he thought he had killed him for good, a sudden thought crossed his mind. He used Dragon Dreams again. This time, Viserys realized that his vision had shifted to another place. 'This guy has transferred his consciousness again,' he thought.

"It's really hard to kill," he muttered as he came to.

Viserys found himself slowly sinking to the bottom of the sea. Below lay a pitch-black abyss, with only a faint glimmer of light above his head. Following the directions he had learned in Dragon Dreams, he swam toward the light once more.

...

Meanwhile, Regis was growing increasingly anxious. He wanted to mobilize the soldiers for a search, but doing so might cause a major disturbance in the camp. 'Danger,' he thought. Yet with each passing minute, Viserys was slipping further away, especially with that enormous Kraken, more than ten or twenty meters long, lurking in the waters.

The thought of the massive Kraken sent a chill down Regis' spine.

"Lord Regis."

Suddenly, Regis heard someone calling his name. He looked up to see Spider Webber approaching.

"Lord Regis, where is Prince Viserys? I need to see him."

Regis looked around cautiously before gesturing for Webber to come aboard to speak more privately.

Sensing the tension, Webber's unease grew.

"What? Prince Viserys is missing!"

"Don't make a fuss. Keep your men calm," Regis warned.

Webber's blood ran cold at the news.

Everyone had just witnessed the terrifying Kraken, and though no enemies were in sight, Viserys remained the backbone of the group. If the soldiers learned that something had happened to him, chaos would undoubtedly ensue. The most pressing concern was the uncertainty about whether the Kraken was still lurking nearby. Even though they had killed Euron, the battle was far from over—they had only dealt with a "part of the enemy."

The Kraken was not a defeated foe that would scatter and flee; it was a relentless predator. To maintain order, they had to keep Viserys' disappearance a secret.

"Let's split up and look for him!"

"Okay!"

...

By this time, Euron had already taken possession of another body. He had severely underestimated Viserys. Upon entering this new vessel, he instinctively scanned his surroundings, but exhaustion quickly overtook him, and he lay down on a piece of driftwood to rest. If he could sense the Kraken's direction, he might be able to escape.

What Euron didn't realize was that Viserys had already found him. Suddenly, he felt his ankles being grabbed again, and he was yanked beneath the water. Viserys' hands locked around his neck once more, and Euron swore he had never been so terrified in his life. But the fear was eclipsed by the dread of facing this man who was about to kill him for the third time.

Yet just before Viserys could snap Euron's neck, a smug smile curled Euron's lips.

...

Viserys, having killed Euron yet again, was about to use Dragon Dreams to discover which body he had possessed this time, when he suddenly felt something thick as a human leg coil around his waist. It wasn't a python—it was the Kraken, summoned by Euron.

Chapter 201: The Three-Eyed Raven’s Candidate

The Kraken, over twenty meters long and weighing several tons, was a creature far beyond the capabilities of any ordinary person. Though Viserys's constitution was no longer ordinary, the sheer size and mass of the Kraken made the disparity between them enormous.

The Kraken, under Euron's control, dragged Viserys toward the abyssal depths of the sea. As the water around him grew darker, Viserys realized he had been pulled down at least 200 meters. He struggled to break free from the Kraken's grip, but the creature's strength was formidable. Three of its tentacles had wrapped tightly around him—one around his waist and two around his legs—leaving him unable to even draw the Dragonbone dagger from his back. Fortunately, his hands remained free.

Using his water magic, Viserys created a powerful current around him. His hair, which had been floating upward, now fell downward under the force of the current. The Kraken, driven by Euron, felt the resistance as it swam desperately toward the depths. It was as if Viserys had become a tree trunk half-buried in the mud; no matter how hard the Kraken tried, it couldn't increase its speed.

Realizing that the water current was the problem, Euron attempted to disrupt it with his remaining tentacles. This tactic worked, and Viserys began sinking faster once more. But Viserys wasn't finished. He drew on every ounce of his proficiency in water magic, expanding the range of the current he could control. Fish and shrimp were sucked into the vortex he created. This time, instead of sinking further, Euron's speed was halted, and Viserys even began to pull the Kraken upward.

The two forces were locked in a stalemate, and Euron was forced to release him. The Kraken rose up before Viserys, its ten long tentacles waving like a massive, mysterious net, poised to envelop him. Despite the Kraken's overwhelming size, Viserys matched its power with surprising ease. It was as if he faced a challenge not unlike Daenerys Targaryen's conquest of the Dothraki—but even stranger was how evenly matched they seemed.

Euron, now fully inhabiting the Kraken, lashed out with its tentacles like whips, but Viserys deftly maneuvered the water currents to evade the monster's strikes. Their battle churned the sea into a frenzy, driving away the surrounding sea creatures. The roaring of the water filled the depths as Viserys controlled his Dragonbone dagger, directing it with the currents to strike back. Euron, still adjusting to his new body, struggled to defend himself, and soon dozens of tentacles were marred with wounds. Blue blood spread through the water, darkening the space around them.

After ten more minutes of intense fighting, the Kraken suddenly convulsed. Its tentacles flailed wildly, as if it had been electrocuted, and it began thrashing its own head with its limbs. Though Viserys couldn't be sure what was happening, he seized the opportunity. Controlling the dagger with precision, he drove it into the Kraken's eye. The beast convulsed in pain, its tentacles lashing out randomly as blue blood clouded the water. The Kraken was in agony, unable to hiss but clearly suffering from the wounds inflicted on itself and the deep stab to its eye.

At that moment, the injured eye of the Kraken began to emit a red mist. Viserys didn't know what it was, but he attempted to disperse it by manipulating the surrounding water. However, the mist remained unaffected. After a dozen breaths, the mist, now over two meters in diameter, suddenly exploded into several pieces.

'Brynden! What are you doing?' Viserys, unable to speak underwater, instinctively reached out with his mind to communicate with the mist.

To his surprise, the blood-red crows circling him seemed to slow, as if they recognized him. But in the next instant, their shadows darted toward Viserys's forehead.

Suddenly, he found himself in a dark cave, standing before a tree with intricate, twisted roots.

"Brynden! What are you doing?" Viserys was irritated. This loss of control was unsettling. He suspected it might be an illusion, so he began to increase his 'Spirit' value. One hundred... one hundred and eight... two hundred and seven...

As his Spirit value climbed, the environment around him began to quake. With a deafening rumble, the dark cave seemed on the verge of collapse.

"Viserys!" A hurried, old voice called out from behind him. The voice sounded anxious, clearly disturbed by Viserys's sudden surge in Spirit strength. If this continued, the environment would become unsustainable.

Viserys turned to see an old man with pale skin, white hair, and a frail figure standing behind him.

Before Brynden could speak, Viserys demanded, "What are you doing? I'm still in the sea, and you're pulling me into a dream?"

Brynden was taken aback. In all the memories of the Greenseers he had inherited, no one had entered this dreamscape without shock or confusion. But Viserys seemed to have anticipated it.

"Don't worry, I will protect you."

"Then say what you have to say quickly."

"You are the most talented Targaryen I have ever seen when it comes to Dragon Dreams, but you shouldn't have acted against Euron. He is my chosen heir, and in the future—"

Before Brynden could finish, Viserys cut him off, unable to contain his frustration.

"Your chosen heir? Can't you see what he has done?"

"But these sacrifices are necessary for the sake of the living," Brynden replied calmly.

'You're talking about the living? The Seven Kingdoms and the Nine Free Cities are on my shoulders! If you're going to pick someone, at least choose someone normal. Don't you know what he was like as a child?' Viserys thought, his mind racing. Euron had been a natural-born villain, one who had even raped his own brothers when they were children. Viserys couldn't comprehend Brynden Rivers's reasoning.

'Perhaps the world looks different through the eyes of the head of a Master of Whisperers,' he mused bitterly.

"You don't understand... You two could have worked together," Brynden insisted.

Viserys was at a loss for words.

"Just tell me if Euron is dead," he finally said.

"Yes, now he exists only as an obsession," Brynden confirmed.

With the Three-Eyed Raven's assurance, Viserys felt a wave of relief wash over him, and his anxious heart began to calm.

"Brynden, let's work together. You provide me with information, and I'll eliminate all the ambitious contenders as quickly as possible. Then, we can unite the living to fight against the Night King. This is far more reliable than your current plan." Viserys believed that, with the Three-Eyed Raven's help, he could bring order to Westeros much more swiftly.

But Brynden's expression remained complicated, and he neither agreed nor refused.

"Viserys, you remind me a great deal of Aerys. But for now, all I can tell you is this: there are many reasons why people seek out the so-called savior."

"You mean some people actually want to see the world destroyed?" Viserys asked, his thoughts flashing to the concept of a "savior" and the possible dangers associated with it. For most, continuing the rule of the living is the simplest path, but there are all kinds of people in the world. Perhaps some believe that a world ruled by the Night King would be a better one. To them, the savior would be an obstacle to their twisted version of 'paradise.'

Brynden didn't respond directly but gave a subtle nod, confirming Viserys's suspicion.

"Is the savior still Dany?" Viserys pressed.

"I can't say. We don't all share the same understanding of the world," Brynden replied, as evasive as ever.

Realizing that Brynden wouldn't divulge anything more, Viserys decided not to push further. "We'll stop here for now. I'm in a hurry."

In the end, he knew it was better to rely on himself than on others. If everyone has a different view of the world, then he would simply do what he believed was right. Brynden seemed to be hinting at possible threats, but Viserys would have to be cautious on his own. With that, Brynden dissolved the illusion.

When Viserys emerged from the illusion, he noticed that time seemed to have stood still during their conversation. The Kraken was in the exact same position as before, its tentacles frozen in mid-twist.

But soon, everything returned to normal, and the Kraken's tentacles stopped twitching. Just as Viserys prepared for the Kraken Euron to continue the fight, the creature suddenly turned and fled.

No, it wasn't fleeing—Viserys quickly realized Euron was heading straight for the fleet. He had no choice but to pursue him. However, the Kraken was now moving like a madman. Despite Viserys pushing his control over the water to its limits, he found himself being left further and further behind.

Meanwhile, on Regis's side, under the eerie glow of the red comet overhead, they had managed to rescue nearly all the surviving soldiers. Even some of the bodies had been recovered, but there was still no sign of Viserys.

"Did you find him?" Regis asked Webber, his voice laced with anxiety. But Webber shook his head in frustration.

The two of them scanned the chaotic waters anxiously. Sharks were still circling, devouring not only the fallen soldiers but even the corpses of their own kind. The red comet's light bathed the sea in crimson, reflecting off the scattered wreckage of warships, severed limbs, and the thrashing sharks. For a moment, it felt as though they were in the depths of hell.

"Look again!" Regis ordered urgently.

"Look again!" Webber echoed, knowing full well that the best option would be to get out of the water. But they also knew retreat wasn't an option. If Viserys died, the Windblown, now numbering over 10,000 strong, would collapse, and Tyrosh would fall into enemy hands. All they could do now was pray for a miracle.

...

Meanwhile, the soldiers guarding the Silence patrolled the deck, their surroundings bathed in the red light of the comet. The visibility was clear, but the eerie hue only added to the tension. Their task was to protect the massive horn on board. Due to the mission's importance, Regis had assigned the Unsullied to guard the Silence. Even though the Unsullied had become the leading soldiers, they remained more reliable than the rest.

Suddenly, one of the patrolling Unsullied staggered but quickly regained his stance. Something had struck the hull. The next moment, a massive head with a single black eye emerged from the water—it was the Kraken, carrying Euron's remains.

"Form up!" the Unsullied captain shouted, and a dozen soldiers leveled their spears at the creature. But the Kraken seemed unfazed. With a sweep of its tentacles, it knocked aside a large group of Unsullied. Its dark, unblinking eye locked onto the Dragon's Horn—that was its target!

Chapter 202: Blue Dragon Egg and Dreamer

While they were busy rescuing soldiers who had fallen overboard, most of the warships remained in position, surrounding the Silence. As soon as the Kraken emerged, more than ten dragon-shooting crossbows were trained on it. The nearly two-meter-long bolts whistled through the air, embedding themselves into the creature's massive body.

The Kraken roared in pain but refused to abandon its search for the Dragon Horn. Just as the archers prepared to unleash another volley, they saw a figure leap onto the Kraken, thrashing about with relentless fury. The scene would be forever etched into the minds of all who witnessed it—it was Viserys. Unfortunately, his dagger wasn't long enough to inflict significant damage.

However, Viserys's attacks were so fierce that he soon turned the Kraken's flesh into a bloody, pulpy mess. Eventually, the creature gave up, allowing Viserys to escape.

The commotion on the Silence naturally drew the attention of Regis and the others. When they saw Viserys alive, a wave of relief washed over them. At that moment, Viserys finally had the opportunity to lay hands on the nearly two-meter-long Dragon Horn. Under the glow of the red comet, the horn revealed a blackish-red hue, as if it had just been pulled from a pool of blood. It was entirely black with a metallic texture, yet smooth and warm to the touch. The horn had the power to confuse minds and control beasts.

With this in hand, Viserys knew that exploring Valyria would be much easier, and it would give him a crucial advantage in future battles. The horn could be used to create chaos in enemy ranks. The original description likened its warmth to that of a "woman's thigh," but that was something Viserys chose not to dwell on.

"Prince Viserys," Regis called out, seeing Viserys staring intently at the horn with burning eyes.

"Let's leave this sea immediately," Viserys ordered, motioning for someone to store the horn safely.

"Yes, Prince!" came the prompt reply.

Euron had become a wild beast, driven by nothing but obsession. The reason he had returned to the horn, as Brynden had hinted, was this obsession. Once the fleet left the battle area, Viserys, Regis, and Webber gathered aboard the flagship.

"My lord, Euron is dead, but we don't know who killed him," Webber reported as the three of them sat down.

"I killed him," Viserys replied.

"Oh, that's not surprising," Regis nodded. Indeed, it made little sense for anyone but Viserys to have managed such a feat.

"What about our casualties?" Viserys asked.

"Of the 20 ships we set sail with, only 13 remain. We started with over 2,000 men, but now we have only 1,500," Webber answered.

Viserys nodded solemnly. The battle had taken a heavy toll, but there had been no other choice. If Euron hadn't been killed here, he would have gone on to cause even more devastation.

Regis and Webber didn't fully grasp the complexities of magic, so Viserys ordered the soldiers to withdraw from the area, planning to return the next day. That night, the soldiers brought Viserys the Valyrian armor Euron had worn and a dragon egg they had found in his quarters.

As Viserys had seen in his Dragon Dreams, it was a blue dragon egg.

As soon as he touched the dragon egg, the panel reacted immediately:

[Touching a dragon egg, gaining 36 attribute points]

This dragon egg, brought by Euron, was more active than any of the others Viserys had acquired. Next, he examined the Valyrian armor. Its high magic resistance had been crucial—without it, he would have killed Euron on the Silence long ago.

Viserys lay in bed, replaying the near-apocalyptic battle in his mind. The scale of the fight, involving just over twenty warships, wasn't immense. In fact, even some pirate conflicts could easily muster more than twenty ships. But this battle had involved more than just warships—there were krakens, whales, sharks, and a red comet.

It wouldn't be long before the red comet was visible to everyone. Those with deep magical roots would soon see their powers surge. Yet, the appearance of this comet puzzled Viserys. He remembered it heralding the War of the Five Kings, but this time it had appeared about six months earlier.

The anomaly of the "Bleeding Star" indicated that this world's trajectory had completely deviated from the original timeline. Though the unpredictable consequences were unknown, Viserys realized he might be able to hatch his dragon eggs sooner than expected.

All his worries and fears stemmed from insufficient firepower. Once he hatched all the dragon eggs in his possession, he wouldn't need to concern himself with any conspiracies, whether overt or covert.

Viserys opened his panel and saw that his skills in Soul Binding, Pyromancy, Water Magic, and Blood Magic had all reached the Expert level. Among them, his most frequently used skill, Dragon Dreams, had nearly maxed out at 9,980 proficiency points.

Without hesitation, Viserys added all the points he had just absorbed from the dragon egg. To his surprise, the entry for "Dragon Dreams" transformed into something new: "Dreamer."

'Dreamer? Why not a walker?' Viserys wondered, puzzled. But soon he felt a shift in his abilities. He discovered that he could now enter the dreams of others—he could directly invade their subconscious.

Closing his eyes, Viserys explored from the perspective of a "Dreamer." Most of the people in the fleet were still awake, which made sense—after witnessing such a monstrous creature firsthand, who could sleep? However, Viserys soon found a suitable target: Regis. The man had wrapped himself in a canvas and was soundly sleeping on the deck.

Viserys entered his dream and found Regis in a lively tavern in Tyrosh. He was holding a massive mug in one hand, boasting to a captivated crowd.

"A 50-meter-long Kraken! The monster's tentacles stretched up to the clouds! One tentacle could overturn a battleship!"

As the onlookers listened in awe, Regis grew more animated. "Thanks to my cooperation with Prince Viserys, we drove the beast away! And we even cut off one of its tentacles for a meal of Kraken meat!"

Viserys's mouth twitched slightly. 'This guy is getting more ridiculous by the minute,' he thought. But it was certainly in line with Regis's character.

Just as Viserys was about to leave Regis's dream, he suddenly noticed another Viserys standing nearby. This doppelgänger, sword in hand, was addressing Regis.

"Regis, I appoint you as Ser Regis," the false Viserys declared.

Regis, overjoyed, quickly knelt to receive the appointment. The real Viserys couldn't help but be amused by the scene and wondered, 'Can I interact with him in his dream?'

Testing the idea, he raised his hand and called out, "Regis."

Regis, not surprised to see Viserys in two places at once, ran over eagerly.

"Prince!"

"I've changed my mind," Viserys said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I won't make you a Ser."

"Prince?" Regis's face fell, and the onlookers in his dream all burst into laughter, filling the air with a jovial atmosphere.

Viserys then grinned and said, "I'll make you a Lord!"

Regis's face lit up once more as he mumbled, "Lord, hehehehe..."

When Viserys exited the dream, Regis was still giggling in his sleep.

...

Next, Viserys found a new target: Webber, who was near the end of the fleet. In Webber's dream, he was frantically maneuvering a warship to escape as many as seven or eight krakens chased him. It was clear the krakens had left him deeply traumatized.

Just as Viserys was about to intervene, the krakens began climbing onto Webber's deck, and the dream suddenly shattered. Webber woke up in a cold sweat, panting heavily.

'It seems the Kraken will haunt the nightmares of many', Viserys thought, deciding to reward the soldiers who had endured such horrors in the future.

He entered the dreams of several more soldiers and found that many were plagued by visions of the Kraken—some dreamt of being swallowed whole, while others were desperately fleeing.

Suddenly, a new idea sparked in Viserys's mind: How far can my ''Dreamer' vision reach?'

Curious, he channeled more magic to enhance the ability, and soon he saw distant figures illuminated by faint white lights.

"How can there be so few?" Viserys wondered as he extended his Dreamer ability towards Tyrosh. He had nearly reached the city but found only a few lights indicating that he could enter dreams. Lys had two, but Tyrosh only had one.

Intrigued, Viserys chose the light in Tyrosh and found himself entering Dany's dream. Dany hadn't been able to sleep for days, worried sick about Viserys—especially after the sudden appearance of the red comet two days ago. Rumors about the comet were spreading like wildfire through the city.

Mirri Maz Duur, who had previously sought refuge with Viserys, wanted to see Dany, claiming she could explain the comet's appearance.

But Dany, remembering that both Mirri and Jorah were on Viserys's hit list, refused to let her approach. Instead, Dany found some comfort in Kyla's company, and it was only in her presence that she could finally fall asleep.

In her dream, Dany stood at the docks, straining on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of Viserys. Suddenly, damaged warships sailed into the harbor, their masts broken and splintered. Alarmed, Dany hurried to Viserys's flagship, only to find it empty.

Anxiety gripped her as she called out, "Brother! Brother! Where are you?" Dany searched from one hatch to the next, but there was no sign of Viserys. By the time she reached the deck, her voice was trembling with fear.

"Dany." She spun around at the sound of her brother's voice and was shocked to see Viserys, soaking wet and shivering.

"Brother, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm so cold, Dany. The sea is so cold."

"Brother! Brother! What's happening to you?" Dany reached out, trying to grasp the hem of his drenched clothes, but Viserys seemed to drift further and further away.

"Brother!" she cried.

"Dany, help me!" Viserys called out, his voice filled with desperation. Suddenly, tentacles appeared, wrapping around his limbs and neck. Dany frantically tried to dispel the tentacles with her hands, but just as quickly as they appeared, Viserys vanished.

"Brother!" she screamed, her voice full of anguish as if her very soul had been torn away.

Suddenly, Dany bumped into someone. Looking up, she saw Viserys standing before her.

"Brother? Are you okay?"

Viserys, who had entered Dany's dream, had witnessed her nightmare. It became clear to him that Dany also possessed a certain talent for Dragon Dreams. If not for her resilience, she might have been overwhelmed by the terror of her visions.

"Dany, I'm fine. I'm in your dream right now," Viserys said gently, putting his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

"In my dream?" Dany asked, still struggling to grasp his words.

"I've killed him, Dany. Don't worry about me. I'll be back in a few days."

"Really? That's great!" Dany sighed with relief, finally convinced that her brother was safe.

"But we've suffered great losses this time. You should tell Connington to prepare to mourn to at least 800 people."

Hearing the number 800, Dany knew that Viserys had been through an exceptionally fierce battle.

Chapter 203: Distorted Prophecy

The Red Comet was undeniably a global phenomenon. The crimson star that streaked across the skies of the world, passing through lands of ice and fire, captivated the attention of all. From the Red Waste north of Qarth to Slaver's Bay, it traveled through the ruins of Valyria, over the southern Free Cities, and finally, even above King's Landing.

In Qarth, the wizards convened in the dim Temple of the Immortals. Warlocks. The room was dark, with only a small window on the western wall. The light filtering through it revealed dust particles floating in the air. At the center of the temple stood a long table, around which seventeen or eighteen men with blue lips were seated, their figures obscured by the shadows. In front of each was a wine glass and a tiny oil lamp. The glasses held a blue liquid known as "Shade of the Evening," and as they lifted them to sip, their blackened fingernails became visible.

The oil lamps, no bigger than peas or soybeans, emitted only a faint glow, their smoke gathering above the warlocks' heads like a miniature sea of mist.

"It's changed. A lot has changed," spoke a pale-skinned warlock in a green robe, his voice echoing from the shadows. As he waved his hand, the smoke above the table began to swirl, eventually forming two indistinct human figures—one male, the other female. Despite the blurred features, the figures were unmistakably Viserys and Daenerys. Moments later, the smoke shifted again, revealing the image of a beautiful, nearly naked woman with a slender figure, surrounded by four small figures touching her. A tall man soon appeared, driving them away and rescuing the woman from further indignity.

"The 'Prince' in the prophecy has become two," the warlock continued, his tone contemplative. "It seems that my doom may have been averted." The others, still puzzled, couldn't understand how the predictions of the Red Comet had changed so drastically. It was as if a powerful hand had altered the course of the world.

"Isn't that convenient? Two of them, and we can all have a share," commented a well-proportioned wizard in a blue robe. Though his voice was calm, it carried an undertone of decay, like the voice of someone speaking from within a rotting coffin. None of their voices sounded like those of ordinary living men.

"Wizards, there is another matter," the green-robed warlock interjected. "The Prince of the prophecy may not come to Qarth. If we wish to see him, we must venture to the Narrow Sea."

"The West?" the blue-robed man asked.

"Silver hair, descendants of Valyria. If there is only one, there might be another. But when two appear together, is it not clear?" The wizards nodded in agreement, though they now faced another dilemma.

Viserys.

The rumors about Viserys made those with unscrupulous intentions hesitate. The Red Comet had seemingly granted him a surge of power, but even before its arrival, Viserys had single-handedly slain an entire band of pirates. That could only mean he was now stronger than ever.

"Maybe we could invite him to Qarth?" a voice suggested, breaking the silence that had settled among the warlocks. For a moment, no one responded, acknowledging that, at present, there seemed to be no better option.

...

In Meereen, the Temple of the Graces stood majestic with its gleaming golden dome, housing a grand statue of the Harpy. Galazza, the temple's esteemed 'Green Grace', knelt before the statue draped in her traditional green veil, performing her daily prayers. At nearly seventy years old, Galazza had served as a saint since the tender age of twelve, dedicating her life to the sacred rites and traditions of her people.

As she knelt, her emerald eyes gazed upon the imposing figure of the Harpy, but her thoughts wandered far beyond the temple walls. She pondered the recent appearance of the Red Comet, a celestial event that had caused widespread unrest. It was her duty to provide explanations and solace to both nobles and commoners alike, yet she grappled with her own uncertainties. After a lifetime of devotion, she still questioned the existence of gods and the true power behind the symbols she so faithfully served.

Suddenly, a sharp cracking sound echoed through the silent hall. Galazza's eyes darted around, searching for the source of the disturbance, but found nothing. "Did I imagine it?" she wondered, attributing the noise to her weary mind.

Just as she prepared to conclude her prayers, the sound resonated again, clearer and more pronounced. Behind her, four young tender maidens also heard the unsettling noise.

Fearful of showing disrespect, they exchanged quick, nervous glances without rising from their knees. This time, the origin was unmistakable—it came from the very statue of the Harpy before them.

With a resounding crash, the golden head of the Harpy detached and tumbled to the ground, rolling across the polished floor. Gasps filled the temple as Galazza and the maidens stared in shock at the decapitated statue, an ominous sign that sent shivers down their spines.

...

Two days after the appearance of the Bleeding Star, Volantis remained deeply affected. The usually bustling Long Bridge was nearly deserted, with only a handful of pedestrians braving the streets. The Black Wall, typically alive with music and revelry, had fallen eerily quiet, and incidents of fights and brawls had noticeably decreased.

In stark contrast, the Temple of R'hllor was overflowing with people from all walks of life—nobles adorned in fine garments stood alongside ordinary citizens, all seeking answers and comfort. Tiger Cloaks and Red Priests worked diligently to maintain order amid the swelling crowd. Whispered conversations filled the air as anxious eyes frequently glanced upward at the fiery red comet blazing across the sky, its long tail casting an unsettling glow over the city.

It seemed as though nearly every free person in Volantis had gathered at the temple, desperate for guidance and interpretation of this celestial omen. The sudden appearance of the Red Comet had incited fear and speculation, and the populace awaited the words of Benerro, the High Priest, hoping he could shed light on the mysteries that plagued their hearts and minds.

"I heard that the comet predicts disaster and signals the end of the long summer!" one person exclaimed, fear evident in their voice.

"The red comet—could it be connected to the Lord of Light?" another speculated.

"May R'hllor favor his followers," someone else murmured, their voice trembling with uncertainty. The crowd was a mix of anxiety and hope, each person wrestling with their own thoughts about the ominous future.

"My followers of the Lord of Light!" A voice boomed from the shadows, drawing everyone's attention. A black-skinned red priest stepped forward from behind the statue, his face framed by a thick, winding beard and hair as white as snow. His arms, forehead, and cheeks were adorned with intricate flame tattoos. This was Moqorro, the trusted right-hand man of High Priest Benerro.

The crowd turned to him, their fears momentarily quelled by his commanding presence. "Believers of the Lord of Light, His Holiness Benerro has received a revelation from R'hllor. To ensure that more of you may receive this divine message, please proceed to the Long Bridge. His Holiness will speak there shortly."

Machilo's certainty inspired the restless crowd, and they began to move toward the Long Bridge. The sheer number of people made progress slow, and if not for the red priests maintaining order, a stampede could have occurred. Eventually, the ancient Long Bridge, built hundreds of years ago, groaned under the weight of nearly 20,000 people. Below them, the Rhoyne river rushed past, its sound mingling with the rising murmur of the crowd.

Suddenly, someone gasped, pointing to a flame rising above another person's head. The people looked up, their eyes widening as they saw a ladder of fire materialize out of thin air. Conversations ceased, silence spreading through the crowd like falling dominoes, as all eyes fixed on the thirty-foot-high staircase of flames.

The sight was so miraculous that some devout believers fell to their knees in worship. It was then that they noticed someone ascending the fiery staircase—Benerro! The High Priest was barefoot, his red robe flowing seamlessly into the flames beneath his feet. Benerro paused at the top, looking down at the sea of faces below. He had waited a long time for this moment.

The tens of thousands of believers stared up at him, the only sound now the relentless flow of the Rhoyne. Strangely, Benerro remained silent, and no one dared to urge him to speak. The tension grew until a stir began to ripple through the crowd. Just then, Benerro moved, raising his hand to point at the blood-red comet slashing across the sky.

The comet seemed to tear a bloody wound in the heavens, and Benerro's expression turned grave. He finally spoke, his voice calm yet resonating so powerfully that everyone heard him clearly.

"I have received instructions from R'hllor," he declared. The crowd leaned in, hanging on his every word. They were so entranced that they didn't realize Benerro's voice, though steady and composed, echoed loudly across the vast gathering.

"The Lord of Light has warned me—darkness and destruction are coming!" As he spoke, Benerro gestured as if seizing something from the air. When he opened his hand, a flame flickered into existence in his palm.

The fire twisted and turned, forming two words in the ancient language of Valyria:

Darkness.

Destruction.

"Damn comet!" some of the men cursed, their anger directed at the fiery streak in the sky, though they had no idea where else to vent their frustration. Women covered their faces, weeping softly, while the children clung to their mothers, too young to understand but sensing the pervasive fear and unease.

"High Priest, the Lord of Light will save us, won't he?" a voice suddenly called out, momentarily silencing the anxious murmurs of the crowd.

"Yes!" Benerro's reply rang out with conviction, his voice carrying a sense of authority that brought a flicker of hope to the troubled assembly. The people, momentarily calmed, turned their attention fully to him.

He continued, his voice echoing with the weight of prophecy, "Eight thousand years ago, the Lord of Light chose Azor Ahai as the savior of the world. And now, eight thousand years later, the savior will return to lead us through the Long Night!"

Tears of relief and excitement welled up in the eyes of some, as they clung to Benerro's words like a lifeline. Others, however, remained skeptical, unable to fully grasp the enormity of eight thousand years or the truth behind a legend as ancient as Azor Ahai.

"So where is the Savior?" someone asked, their voice tinged with doubt.

"The Savior will appear... with the dragon," Benerro declared.

...

Meanwhile, on the Black Wall, several figures stood with binoculars, their gaze fixed on the bustling Long Bridge below. They were the Triarchs of Volantis, leaders of the Tiger and Elephant parties. Usually, they were fierce rivals, constantly at odds with each other, but the sudden appearance of the Red Comet had forced them into an uneasy alliance. The growing influence of R'hllor in the city had made them increasingly wary.

"My men discovered that Benerro sent a dozen ships out of the harbor last night, heading east," said Alios, the Triarch of the Elephant Party. His tone was measured, though the underlying concern was clear.

Viserys's rise had allowed Alios's maritime enterprises to flourish, expanding by hundreds of thousands of gold coins. This success also enabled him to keep a close eye on Benerro's activities.

"So, did you send someone to follow him?" asked one of the Triarchs from the Tiger Party.

"Of course. My spies reported that he seemed to be searching for someone," Alios replied.

"Searching? For whom?" the other Triarch pressed.

"Viserys," Alios answered gravely.

Chapter 204: You Are Just a Sacrifice

The rapid rise of Viserys over the past two years had taken the three Triarchs by surprise. Who would have thought that a bloodthirsty mercenary could ascend to the status of a regional overlord in such a short time? When Viserys beheaded the pirates, they assumed it was the pinnacle of his achievements. Little did they know it was merely the beginning.

Now, Viserys had even established the "Confederation of the Four Daughters." The Triarchy had already posed a significant challenge to Volantis, and the addition of Pentos only intensified the pressure on the Triarchs. However, the so-called "Confederation" was little more than a mutual defense pact.

When Malaquo and Nyessos heard the news about Viserys, they were taken aback.

"Did Viserys go to Slaver's Bay? Why head east?" asked Malaquo, whose teeth had almost all fallen out. He couldn't fathom Viserys venturing to Valyria, and the notion of him knowing anything about Euron seemed absurd.

"I'm not sure either," replied Nyessos. "Perhaps we should invite him again. Maybe he could become our ally."

"Ally?" Malaquo didn't grasp the idea at first, but Nyessos, who had previously engaged in negotiations with Viserys, quickly caught on. As he gazed at the fervent followers of the Lord of Light in the distance, he realized that Viserys might indeed make a valuable partner. But only if they could secure his allegiance before Benerro did.

Alios, determined to outmaneuver Benerro, offered his sailors a handsome reward to track down Viserys.

Viserys's fleet now consisted of fifteen ships, though only one, the Silence, was in good condition. The other warships were heavily damaged, their hulls scarred and pitted, some even bearing bits of flesh from recent battles. The loss of over 500 soldiers in the conflict with Euron had been devastating, and many of their bodies were never recovered. These were elite fighters, far different from the slaves who had perished in the uprising a year ago.

To honor their memory and reinforce his loyalty to his people, Viserys decided to take care the orphans of these fallen soldiers. While these children might not grow up to be the strongest warriors, their loyalty would be unshakable. It was a gesture that would boost morale and set an example for others in his ranks.

Yet, Viserys still had many questions lingering from the battle with Euron. Why had Euron's mute sailors been unaffected by the Dragon's Horn? And what did Brynden know about the salvation of the world?

Determined to find answers, Viserys resolved to seek out Shiera.

"Hmm? A fleet is approaching," Viserys muttered, spotting several ships on the horizon from the vantage point of the Golden Eagle. The ships were painted red, with flames emblazoned on their sails—clearly vessels of the R'hllor temple, or more specifically, Benerro's ships.

He recalled the warning given by the Three-Eyed Raven, Brynden: Not everyone wants the savior to fulfill his mission.

Though their intentions were unclear, Viserys knew from the available information that the followers and priests of the Lord of Light could be a potential ally—or a significant threat.

In the original tales, Benerro had openly supported the Mother of Dragons in his sermons. Perhaps meeting with him would be wise after all.

"My lord, a fleet of ships is approaching us," Regis announced from the doorway.

"I know," Viserys replied calmly.

Soon, the two fleets converged, and a red priest called out from the deck of the approaching ship, "I am a priest of the Lord of Light's temple, and I invite Prince Viserys on behalf of High Septon Benerro!"

Viserys wasn't surprised that Benerro had tracked him down. As a master of prophecy, Benerro would have had little difficulty using divination to locate him.

"Let them come aboard," Viserys instructed Regis.

A short while later, several red priests with flame tattoos on their foreheads boarded his flagship. Viserys observed that the priests of R'hllor seemed to distinguish their ranks by the number of tattoos they bore. The lead priest had tattoos not only on his forehead but also on his cheeks, while those following him had markings only on their foreheads.

The lead priest, recognizing Viserys by his distinctive Targaryen features, spoke with deference. "Viserys, Prince of the House of the Dragon, I am Vhlos, a follower of the Lord of Light. I have been sent by Lord Benerro to invite you to the temple."

"I understand. Lead the way," Viserys responded promptly.

Vhlos, pleased with Viserys's willingness, prepared to escort him back to his ship. But just as they were about to depart, another fleet appeared on the horizon. These ships were not part of Benerro's fleet; they belonged to Alios. The distinctive swan sails of Alios's ships fluttered in the windless weather, putting them at a disadvantage.

One of the swan ships drew closer, and a stout captain wearing a sleeveless leather coat made his intentions clear. "Prince Viserys, Lord Alios invites you to be his guest."

"Huh? Why am I suddenly so popular?" Viserys mused with a wry smile. "I've always been popular, but not this popular."

The unexpected invitation from Alios clearly displeased Vhlos, who stood nearby. The red priest's expression darkened; it was evident he hadn't expected competition. His fiery tattoos and elaborate robes made his allegiance clear, and he had been given strict orders from Benerro to bring Viserys to the temple, no matter what.

Fortunately, Viserys remained outwardly virtuous. He addressed the captain with a composed demeanor:

"Captain, as you can see, I have received an invitation from High Priest Benerro. I must first go to the Temple of the Lord of Light to pay my respects, and afterward, I will visit Lord Alios. What do you think?"

Viserys' words were carefully measured, but they did not reflect his true intentions.

Before leaving with his fleet, Alios had assured him that he should do everything in his power to welcome Viserys warmly.

The captain had initially chosen to set sail on the swan ship, predicting favorable winds for the next two days. However, the wind died down less than half a day after leaving the harbor, and they had sailed day and night, barely making progress.

"Prince Viserys, Lord Alios misses you dearly. He..."

"Don't you understand what the Prince is saying?" Regis interrupted, his tone sharp with irritation. The other man's persistence had grated on him. The surrounding soldiers turned their gaze towards the captain, their collective presence imposing enough that the man had no choice but to relent.

After Regis played the role of the stern enforcer, it was Viserys' turn to play the conciliator. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, but Alios possessed a highly active dragon egg—an asset worth fighting for.

Viserys dismissed the red priest with a polite smile and said, "Captain, we now possess a treasure from the ruins of Valyria. Inform Lord Alios that I am willing to display this relic in his name, but only if he agrees to leave the dragon egg with me for a time."

Viserys' words left the captain stunned. The ruins of Valyria? A place from which no one had ever returned, and yet Viserys claimed to have brought back a treasure! Perhaps this could redeem him for past failures. Seeing that Viserys was offering him this opportunity, the captain felt a deep sense of gratitude. As for what the treasure was, he knew he was not in a position to ask. "Thank you, Prince. I understand. Please allow me to escort you."

After two days at sea, Viserys once again arrived in Volantis. This time, he came with a fleet, and although it was a remnant army, it still aroused the suspicion of the local defenders. Consequently, the fleet was temporarily moored in a special port. While the formalities were more complicated than on his last visit, the reception was far more grand.

Viserys was greeted not only by the red priests of the temple but also by the authorities of Volantis. The Tiger Cloaks of Volantis lined the road, standing straight on both sides, extending almost all the way to the Black Wall. They had positioned guards at three-step intervals and five-step intervals, giving Viserys a grand welcome. In an impressive feat of preparation, they had even managed to produce a few three-headed dragon banners in record time.

The red priests were particularly enthusiastic, almost wading into the water to greet him, their eyes alight with a fervor that suggested they had high hopes for Viserys' arrival. These religious fanatics had a way of exerting pressure in unexpected ways. Viserys, who could face superior officers or thousands of soldiers with ease, still felt a bit uneasy in such a setting.

Then again, as the leader of his people, the "Leader of the Confederation," and due to his friendships with Alios and Benerro, it was not surprising that he received such a reception.

"Viserys!"

Before Viserys had even set foot on the ground, Benerro seized his hand as he stepped off the boat.

"Viserys! You are Nissa Nissa!"

Viserys blinked in confusion. "What?"

But before he could voice his question, Benerro stepped back, gesturing for him to disembark. The shock of Benerro's pronouncement left Viserys reeling, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard.

According to legend, Azor Ahai, the prophesied savior from 8,000 years ago, had forged the legendary sword Lightbringer using the blood of his wife, Nissa Nissa, to defeat the White Walkers. If Benerro was right, and he was Nissa Nissa, then his fate was already sealed. And Benerro's predictions had a disturbing reputation for accuracy.

Suppressing his shock for the moment, Viserys forced himself to focus as Alios and Nyessos stepped forward to greet him.

"Prince Viserys, friend of Volantis!" Alios exclaimed, embracing him warmly.

Not long ago, Viserys had sold Alios a song for a mere tens of thousands of gold coins. To Alios' delight, the song had become wildly popular among the fishermen and boatmen of Volantis, bringing his household wealth in the hundreds of thousands. If not for his declining health, Alios might have even entertained more intimate thoughts about Viserys.

Nyessos followed, greeting Viserys with equal enthusiasm and another warm embrace. He, too, had profited handsomely from their dealings, far more than he had initially invested.

Viserys' arrival had inadvertently tipped the scales in favor of the Tiger Party, further weakening the influence of the Elephant Party. Despite his personal dislike for Viserys, Malaquo, a leading figure of the Tiger Party, felt compelled to offer a greeting, though his demeanor was noticeably cooler than the other two.

"Prince Viserys."

From Viserys' perspective, as a slave owner in Volantis, Malaquo was a true politician, far more calculating than the other two. Alios and Nyessos, in contrast, were merely politicians driven by their greed.

In the original story, Malaquo was old and had lost his teeth, but he still managed to fight the Golden Company with inferior forces.

After agreeing on a meeting time with Alios and the others, Viserys and Benerro made their way to the Temple of the Lord of Light.

Something unexpected happened.

Before Viserys could even ask, Benerro couldn't contain himself and blurted out, "Viserys, you are Nissa Nissa."

Benerro's eyes gleamed with fanaticism, a stark contrast to the serious and perceptive High Priest Viserys had seen before. It was as if Benerro believed that being sacrificed to forge a sword was the highest honor.

"You've already said that twice. Then tell me, if I am Nissa Nissa, who is Azor Ahai?" Viserys asked.

"Azor Ahai hasn't appeared yet," Benerro replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Didn't the prophecy say that the savior would be born in the land of smoke and salt?" Viserys pressed.

"There are so many lands of smoke and salt, and the prophecy is full of symbolism. I don't think this prophecy is all that valuable. The key lies in the final one," Benerro explained, sharing his interpretation, which Viserys found reasonable.

The vision that the Red Witch saw in the flames in the original story was undoubtedly real, but her interpretation was too simplistic. The High Priest, it seemed, had a deeper understanding than Melisandre, the so-called "Red Witch."

"So you're waiting for the one who will 'awaken the dragon from stone'?" Viserys asked.

Benerro nodded, and the two seemed to understand each other without needing to ask how the other knew of such a prophecy.

"Then why do you think I'm Nissa Nissa and not Azor Ahai? If I can hatch dragons, doesn't that mean I'm Azor Ahai?" Viserys challenged.

Benerro glanced at him and replied, "You can't hatch a dragon; you're just a sacrifice."

Viserys felt a chill run down his spine at Benerro's words.

His original plan had been for Daenerys to hold the dragon egg and walk into the flames, believing no actual sacrifice would be needed. In the original story, the Mother of Dragons burned herself alongside the corpse of the Horselord in a moment of despair. And then there was also Mirri...

Wait!

Viserys suddenly realized that the so-called "Lightbringer" might be a metaphor. Could it be that "Lightbringer" actually referred to the dragon? Or perhaps the original Horselord Drogo was Nissa Nissa?

After all, although Mirri made the Horselord a vegetable, it was the Mother of Dragons who actually ended his life.

"So my sister is Azor Ahai?" he mused aloud.

Chapter 205: Will You Help Me Take Volantis?

"Does that mean my sister is Azor Ahai?" Viserys asked.

"At the very least, she was born in the land of smoke and salt, and she is a pure Targaryen, so I believe so," Benerro replied.

His explanation made Viserys uneasy. Based on everything he knew, the suspected saviors from the original prophecies included Daenerys, Jon Snow, and Euron Greyjoy. Each of them could be linked to the "land of smoke and salt." But now, Euron was dead at his hands, and it seemed the Red Witch had completely misjudged the two Baratheons. After all, Dragonstone was his fief, not his birthplace. And as for Jon... well, he was born in the Tower of Joy, which could also be considered a land of smoke and salt.

Viserys pressed on with another question: "I've also heard of a prophecy that 'the dragon has three heads.' Do you know what that means?"

The so-called "three-headed dragon" supposedly referred to Daenerys, Jon Snow, and young Aegon. Viserys couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment. Had he worked so hard, only to end up as a mere sacrifice for the rise of others?

But then Benerro dropped another bombshell: "Now, the dragon only has two heads."

"What? What do you mean it only has two heads now?" Viserys demanded.

"I saw two fiery red dragon heads in the flames," Benerro explained calmly.

Two red dragons, two Targaryens. And with him marked as a sacrifice, did that mean Daenerys would end up with Jon? What kind of twisted plot was this?

Viserys, growing increasingly irritated, asked, "You said I'm Nissa Nissa. Did you see me being sacrificed?"

Benerro nodded. "I saw the flames licking your life."

"So you saw me die?" Viserys pressed.

Benerro hesitated, surprised by Viserys' persistence. He thought he had made it clear. "I saw the flames licking your life! Isn't that a way of saying you're dead? But I also know fire magic. Could the flames that hatch the dragon be different?"

Viserys, unwilling to accept this answer, asked again, "Did you see me die in the flames?"

Benerro looked at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Viserys, I've said it: you are Nissa Nissa. This is your destiny."

"I'm asking again: did you see me die in the flames?" Viserys insisted. "Did you see me turn to ash or burn to a cinder?"

Benerro, realizing that Viserys needed more clarity, sighed. "Viserys, perhaps you believe that because you know fire magic, you won't die in the flames. But at that moment, you will willingly let the flames consume your body."

"I'm asking you again: did you see me 'die' in the fire? Did you see me reduced to ash?" Viserys reiterated, his voice edged with irritation.

Though Benerro couldn't understand why Viserys was so obsessed with these details, he finally relented. "No, that's all the Lord of Light has revealed to me," he admitted, without any hint of blame towards his god. To him, the Lord of Light had revealed more than enough.

But Viserys felt a wave of relief wash over him. For him, as long as he had enough free attribute points, a sword through the chest was just a "minor fatal injury." If Benerro hadn't seen him die in the flames, then perhaps he could keep using those points to repair his body and avoid the fate the High Priest had predicted.

Viserys had originally planned to kill Euron and then return to have Daenerys hatch the dragon. In hindsight, it seemed impulsive. Without a sacrifice, the dragon couldn't emerge from the fossilized egg. Now, it appeared that he, as the sacrifice, would need to first accumulate enough attribute points.

At present, he had six dragon eggs in his possession. But how many attribute points would it take to hatch a single egg? If his Health dropped to zero, that would mean death. Assuming each dragon egg required 100 points, he'd need at least 600 attribute points. Fortunately, he not only had dragon eggs but also a large number of dragonbone artifacts. He calculated that he could gather those points in about two months.

In the end, Viserys decided to play it safe and save up 1,000 attribute points. Better safe than sorry. Ideally, the three dragons would require only 100 points each. After all, in the original story, the Mother of Dragons had sacrificed the Horselord Drogo. Their son, Rhaego, was already dead, and Mirri Maz Duur had been nothing more than an object of Daenerys' wrath.

With this plan in mind, Viserys finally felt a sense of relief. After all, who wants to die over and over again?

Seeing that Viserys had stopped asking questions, Benerro assumed he had accepted his fate. But it didn't matter; Benerro had something more to say.

"So, you've come here just to tell me my fate?" Viserys asked, suspicious.

If his destiny was already sealed, there seemed little reason for Benerro to go to such lengths. But today, Benerro appeared determined to make another startling revelation.

"Viserys, will you help me take Volantis?"

Viserys blinked, confused. "What?"

"I'm not seeking Volantis for personal gain," Benerro explained. "I want to serve the Savior in the future. Now, your sister is the most likely candidate to become the Savior..."

In the original story, the Triarch of Volantis had attempted to kill Benerro several times because he had pledged allegiance to Daenerys. But now, with Viserys in the picture, the situation had shifted.

"What exactly do you want?" Viserys asked warily.

"I hope you and I can join forces to cleanse the rot within the Black Wall!" Benerro declared, his eyes alight with zeal.

Viserys felt a twitch in his eye and thought, 'You're all the same in the end.' Even if he cooperated with Benerro in the future, he would need to be cautious. So, he decided to politely refuse for now.

As Viserys prepared to leave, Benerro arranged for Moqorro to accompany him, supposedly for protection. Benerro believed that Nissa Nissa should die at the hands of Azor Ahai, not some ambitious man.

Viserys, however, claimed he had a suit of Valyrian steel armor that made him invulnerable. This only reinforced Benerro's conviction that Viserys was indeed Nissa Nissa.

After leaving the Temple of the Lord of Light, Alios sent a carriage to fetch him. Alios could hardly wait to see what Viserys had brought back from the ruins of Valyria.

Of course, Viserys wasn't about to show him the precious dragon horn, so he presented the Valyrian steel armor instead. The effect was the same.

When the armor was examined by "authorities," it was identified as belonging to the Valyrian "Trelovna" House. Faced with this simple yet elegant black armor, Alios couldn't tear his eyes away.

At that moment, even if Viserys demanded a dragon egg, Alios would probably not hesitate to spend the night with him.

"Prince Viserys," Alios whispered, "name your price. The red dragon egg is a testament to our friendship!"

Chapter 206: Red Dragon Egg II

"I'll give you this armor for free," Viserys said nonchalantly.

Alios, who had braced himself for a steep price, was stunned by Viserys' generosity. He had never expected such a valuable gift—this was Valyrian steel armor, far more precious than a Valyrian steel sword.

However, as one of the three Triarchs, Alios knew better than to believe in a 'free lunch.' He understood that Viserys must have an ulterior motive.

"Prince, your generosity is beyond words, but I am truly unworthy of such a gift," Alios responded, still trying to comprehend the situation.

Viserys smiled, recognizing Alios' sharp instincts. "Lord Alios, you're too modest. In fact, I do have a favor to ask."

Alios felt a wave of relief. This made more sense.

"I've discovered a route to the ruins of Valyria," Viserys began, "which allowed me to obtain this set of Valyrian steel armor. I recovered it from the bones of a Dragonlord. In truth, we found at least a dozen Dragonlords wearing such armor, but they were all surrounded by monsters..."

"Monsters?" Alios echoed, recalling the strange remains he had seen on Viserys's ship.

Viserys had previously described to Alios the terrifying visions from his Dragon Dreams, embellishing them with vivid details from his imagination. The physical evidence of the armor gave his story credibility, even if he had stretched the truth.

"I plan to explore the ruins of Valyria on a larger scale," Viserys continued, "but now isn't the right time."

"Is there anything I can do?" Alios asked eagerly. The people of Volantis, who proudly called themselves Valyria's eldest daughter, held those who returned from the ruins in high esteem. Any venture into those cursed lands was met with reverence and support.

If there was even the slightest chance to join Viserys on such an expedition, Alios was determined not to miss it.

"For now, I'm postponing any exploration of the ruins," Viserys said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"Why? Is it a lack of manpower or supplies? Volantis can provide whatever you need!" Alios offered.

"Neither," Viserys replied, shaking his head. "We're currently facing an invasion by the Dothraki, so the exploration of Valyria will have to wait until that crisis is resolved."

Viserys' words struck a chord with Alios, though the people of Volantis had not taken the Dothraki threat seriously. They had grown accustomed to paying off the Dothraki as they always had. Recently, however, the frequency of Dothraki raids on Volantis' borders had increased, and the city's leaders had begun to collect 'protection money.'

But Viserys had other plans—he was ready for war.

"Isn't it a disgrace, Lord Alios, that the proud remnants of Valyria are being extorted by a band of barbarians?" Viserys' words stirred a flicker of anger in Alios, but thoughts of the Dothraki's lightning-fast cavalry cooled his enthusiasm.

"Prince, you can't say that..." Alios began, though his tone lacked conviction.

"Lord Alios," Viserys said, pressing his advantage, "I promise to share the route to the ruins of Valyria with you in the future, but in return, I ask that Volantis support me in my battle against the Dothraki."

Alios was about to respond, but Viserys cut him off. "I don't need Volantis to send troops. I just need some supplies to support my efforts."

Alios considered this for a moment before replying, "I can't make this decision on my own, but I will do everything in my power to help you."

"Understood," Viserys nodded. "But I'll be taking this set of Valyrian steel armor with me. It's heavy, and I'll need it for the coming battles."

Alios had no objections. After all, Viserys was preparing for war, and he had promised to share the route to the Ruins of Valyria—a treasure far more valuable than any single piece of armor. Alios knew how to prioritize.

In addition, Viserys promised to promote a "non-aggression" agreement between the "Four Daughters Confederation" and Volantis. The credit for brokering such an agreement would be substantial, a gesture that clearly demonstrated Viserys' sincerity.

As a Triarch of the Elephant Party, representing the interests of those who despised war, Alios was overjoyed. In gratitude, he immediately handed over the red dragon egg that had been a cherished heirloom in his family to Viserys.

In Alios' eyes, the route to the Doom, the Valyrian steel armor, and the political favor were worth far more than the dragon egg, making it a fair trade. Viserys, however, didn't linger in Volantis for long.

That very night, he had his fleet replenish fresh water, make minor repairs to the warships, and set sail the following morning.

During the voyage, Viserys received a letter—a message from the Red Viper in King's Landing. More than six months earlier, the Red Viper had taken up a position as an "adviser on foreign affairs" in the capital. The messenger raven carrying the letter had been specially trained by Viserys, enhanced with blood magic to ensure it could find its intended recipient no matter where they were, not just specific locations. This was why Viserys received the letter even while at sea.

After removing the envelope from the raven's foot, Viserys read the first sentence, which struck him like a bombshell: Jon Arryn is dead.

According to the Red Viper's account, Jon Arryn had died suddenly, most likely poisoned by his wife, as had been suspected before. The plot that followed held little surprise. With Jon Arryn out of the way, Robert Baratheon was eager to set out for the North to retrieve his old friend.

The Red Viper likely accompanied Robert on his journey to Winterfell. However, he also warned Viserys that Robert was becoming increasingly suspicious of the Free Cities.

The other Stag, through the 'Onion Knight' Ser Davos Seaworth, quickly reached a conclusion that contradicts Varys's reports. Although the Iron Throne currently has no plans to move against Tyrosh, Stannis Baratheon has tightened his grip on Driftmark and Crackclaw Point. He has taken the heirs of House Velaryon and House Celtigar to Dragonstone, treating them more like hostages than lords.

House Velaryon and House Celtigar have long been staunch allies of the Targaryens, with House Velaryon even intermarrying with them on several occasions. Their family lineage is notable, having even produced dragon riders, making them a point of interest.

The Baratheons fear that Viserys's growing influence could inspire these houses to rekindle their old loyalties, so they are taking precautions. The Red Viper cautions Viserys to be vigilant, warning that once Robert Baratheon returns with Ned Stark, he may well turn his attention—and his army—toward Tyrosh.

Chapter 207: Red Viper, Seduce Cersei!

Viserys wasn't concerned. In the original story, when Daenerys married the Horselord, all Robert did was shout that someone should be sent to assassinate him. Now, with Viserys stirring the pot in King's Landing, starting a war wouldn't be an easy task for Robert. Especially considering the state of his treasury—so empty that even a mouse would leave it in tears. What's the point of fighting a war when Robert can barely afford it? Will he pay with his fat reserves?

Besides, Robert won't live to see that day, and Viserys knew he needed to speed things up.

After Robert's death in the original story, Cersei had extended an olive branch to Ned, even offering her body as a bargaining chip. Any "rational" politician might have seen this as a reasonable move. If Ned Stark didn't care who sat on the Iron Throne, he could have simply settled into his role as a father-in-law and lived in peace. But the problem was, this was Ned.

Now, Viserys had given Cersei another option. Dorne was stronger than the North and held a strategic advantage. It could contain both the Stormlands and Dragonstone, and Viserys trusted that the Red Viper could handle it.

After receiving the raven's message, Connington went to the harbor to meet Viserys in advance. From Daenerys, he learned that Viserys had asked for 800 men to be prepared for a funeral, which immediately made Connington uneasy. Viserys had taken all his elite forces with him this time, and nearly half of the 2,000 men were lost. It must have been a fierce battle, and to Connington, it seemed Viserys had been defeated.

To minimize the impact of the loss, Connington had already evacuated civilians from the naval port and was waiting there with the healers.

Despite this, some civilians lingered in the distance, anxious for news of their loved ones in the fleet. Among them was Lara, the lover of a captain named Virgil. Shortly after Virgil had left, Lara discovered she was pregnant and was eager to share the news with him.

Connington and Daenerys watched from the dock. The fog was thick, limiting their visibility to just 200 or 300 meters. Connington glanced back at the harbor's lighthouse and instructed Young Connington, "Go tell them to light the beacon!"

"Yes, Father," came the reply.

After another quarter of an hour, a black-sailed warship with a red three-headed dragon on its mast emerged from the fog. Two more followed, then three… The people on the shore counted, but the sixteenth ship didn't appear. One of the ships was clearly a captured vessel. Losing so many ships in a battle would be a grim victory.

Connington's thoughts turned to the looming threat of the Dothraki, but he quickly adjusted his mindset. Ships could be replaced—Targaryens had lost entire fleets before. As long as Viserys was alive, that was what mattered.

Lara prayed silently, hoping that Virgil, a skilled captain, had survived.

Soon, Viserys' flagship came into view, and Connington and Daenerys moved forward to greet it. As they approached, their eyes widened at the sight of the hull's shocking scars—deep, pitted dents stained with dark red blood. Connington couldn't fathom what kind of battle could have inflicted such damage.

The other healers and soldiers standing by for the reception wore the same bewildered expressions. While they could understand the impact craters, the large patches of blood left them unnerved. But for now, no one had answers.

As the warship's door opened, Connington quickly ordered the soldiers to bring stretchers for the wounded, and he and Daenerys rushed to see for themselves. What they found only deepened their confusion.

All the injured soldiers were missing limbs. While severed limbs weren't uncommon on the battlefield, it was a rare and strange sight in naval warfare. Even more puzzling was that nearly every soldier was in this condition—there were hardly any knife or sword wounds. Connington suddenly noticed another fallen soldier, whose wound was an unmistakable laceration, not from a blade, but something far worse.

"Did the Prince go hunting with his fleet? But what kind of monster could cause such carnage?" Connington muttered, his mind reeling.

Although they had already been informed that Viserys was safe, both he and Daenerys were still anxious, not having seen him yet.

"There's the Prince!" Young Connington suddenly shouted, spotting Viserys in the distance, carrying a wounded man on his back.

His words drew the attention of the soldiers around them. Seeing Viserys personally carrying the wounded—and even the dead—left them all feeling a surge of emotion, as if something heavy was pressing on their chests. Connington hurried forward to relieve Viserys of his burden, but the Prince refused.

Seeing Viserys' dedication to his men, Connington felt a deep sense of satisfaction. If Viserys could care for his soldiers like this, there would be no doubt they'd follow him to the ends of the earth.

Soon, all the wounded and dead were brought ashore, and Regis began posting the names of the fallen soldiers. Those who didn't see their loved ones on the list sighed in relief, either heading to the Healer's Hall or waiting anxiously nearby.

Lara, standing in front of the list, scanned it with a pounding heart. When her eyes found Virgil's name, she froze, her body turning to stone. The sounds of crying and the waves crashing on the shore faded into a distant hum...

Meanwhile, with the wounded finally tended to, Connington seized the moment to ask Viserys where he had been.

"Let's discuss it back at the keep," Viserys replied.

With that, Viserys, Daenerys, and Connington climbed into the carriage, while Young Connington rode alongside on horseback, guarding them as they made their way back.

When Connington and Daenerys heard Viserys' story, it felt as if they were listening to a myth.

A Kraken 20 to 30 meters long? Whales and sharks summoned by magic? The horn of the Valyrian dragon? And Euron of the Iron Islands?

It all sounded too fantastical to be true. But Viserys didn't dwell on the details. Instead, he turned to Daenerys and asked, "Dany, you should be able to make fire by now, right?"

'Make fire?' Connington and his son exchanged bewildered looks. They could understand each word Viserys spoke, but when combined, it became something beyond their comprehension.

They watched as Daenerys nodded in response. She extended her hand, and an orange-yellow flame, about the size of a ping-pong ball, ignited in her palm. The warm glow lit up their faces, and Connington jumped in surprise. Even Young Connington, standing outside the carriage, noticed the bright flame and grew wary.

"What?" he called out.

"No... nothing," Connington replied, realizing this was no mere parlor trick.

As a seasoned sellsword and former Hand of the King, Connington had seen much in his time. He knew that ordinary 'fire mages' could create flames, but they needed materials prepared in advance. Yet here was Daenerys, summoning fire from thin air, the flame steady in her hand.

But what Viserys showed them next was even more astounding.

He extended his hand, and a fist-sized red flame appeared in his palm. The flame began to shift and change shape, first forming a dragon, then a griffin. The fiery creatures danced in the eyes of the onlookers, leaving Connington utterly speechless.

Daenerys, on the other hand, watched with admiration. She knew that Viserys had previously been able to create a "flaming snake" with fire, but now, his abilities had greatly improved. She suspected that the red comet had something to do with it.

Viserys extinguished the flames and turned to the Conningtons. "You've all seen the red comet, haven't you? The long night is coming, but fortunately, magic is returning. In the future, magic will be our weapon against the long night."

He then asked Daenerys, "Did you bring the Moonsingers' Scroll?"

"Yes, I have," she replied, pulling out a small scroll and handing it to Viserys. He, in turn, handed it to the Conningtons.

"Start practicing with this. If you don't understand something, just ask me. Only after you've trained can you properly wield magic."

Connington took the scroll, astonished as he realized that Viserys was offering to teach them magic.

Connington accepted the scroll and then knelt on one knee, saying, "Thank you, Prince, for this gift."

"Practice well," Viserys instructed.

"Yes Prince," Connington replied, carefully tucking the scroll into his coat. After a moment, he asked, "Prince, did you say that the Long Night is coming?"

"Yes," Viserys confirmed. "This Long Night could last for a generation, which is why I've urged you to stock up on supplies, especially food."

Connington nodded, feeling fortunate to be following Viserys. Although he had never experienced the Long Night, he had endured longs winters, during which his lands had gone nearly three years without a decent harvest.

With the battle having not only left Viserys unscathed but also seemingly strengthened him, Connington felt confident in bringing up another concern: the Dothraki. "Recently, there have been numerous Dothraki raids in the Two Lakes region. Shortly after you left with your fleet, a man claiming to be from Khal Drogo's khalasar arrived, demanding—or rather, attempting to extort—supplies from us."

As Connington spoke, Viserys looked puzzled. He had dealt with Illyrio, yet the Horselord was still causing trouble. And now this Drogo had the audacity to make demands?

It made Viserys realize that something was amiss. In the original story, after Daenerys became pregnant, the Dothraki had predicted that her child would become the Stallion Who Mounts the World. At the time, Viserys had dismissed it as mere flattery, given how well Daenerys and Drogo were getting along. But now, with Drogo reappearing, the prophecy seemed to be taking on a life of its own—despite the fact that Drogo and Daenerys had never even met in this timeline.

Seeing Viserys deep in thought, Connington decided to proceed with his report. "Prince, we have an official from the Two Lakes region waiting to see you. They are requesting help to protect our people from the Dothraki. Would you prefer to meet with the Dothraki envoy first, or the official from our region?"

Chapter 208: Drive Out the Dothraki

"Prince, shall we see the official first, or the Dothraki?"

Viserys paused in thought before responding, "Of course, we should see our own people first. Send him to the side room."

"Yes, Prince."

After Viserys left, Young Connington turned to his father and asked, "Father, do you think the Prince will order the troops to go out?"

Connington, looking concerned, replied, "Judging from the Prince's attitude, he likely will. Moreover, the Prince has always wanted to establish a more centralized alliance. If we show weakness against the Dothraki, the alliance that we've just formed will be in jeopardy."

Young Connington, sensing his father's pessimism, inquired further, "Father, you don't seem to want the Prince to go to war with the Dothraki?"

Connington sighed deeply. "The Dothraki Sea is vast, and most of the Dothraki are united under a single Khal. The four Free Cities might be able to face the Khal with all their strength, but certainly not now. We must find a way to persuade the Prince not to act rashly."

Young Connington nodded, recalling the Silent Sister Lymere's teachings on the importance of patience.

...

Accompanied by Dany, Viserys quickly changed into his black three-headed dragon robe and arrived in the anteroom adjacent to the throne hall. The anteroom was an informal space for receiving visitors, with red three-headed dragon banners on a black background lining the walls. Four Unsullied stood guard.

The Conningtons were already waiting there, and to Viserys' surprise, so was Kambron. Having heard of Viserys' return to the military port, Kambron had come upon learning that the Prince would be receiving officials in the Great Hall. Like Connington, Kambron did not favor going to war with the Dothraki. His house was involved in the fur trade, which would suffer enormous losses if relations with the Dothraki soured.

Because it was a simple reception, only a few people were present in the Great Hall. The official who had come was named Selin, a man in his forties responsible for several villages in the northwest of the Two Lakes region. Selin's face bore fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and his clothes were dust-covered from his long journey, particularly frayed around the edges as if caught on something during his travels. He looked a bit disheveled.

Selin was one of the first officials to be promoted by Viserys. Though they had never spoken before, Selin held great respect for the young ruler. Not only had Viserys reduced the tax rate to 30%, but he had also eradicated the bandits in the Two Lakes region within a year. During that year, the people of the Two Lakes had experienced the greatest happiness and peace, with the sound of children's laughter often heard in the fields.

Now, Selin hoped that Viserys would protect them and drive the Dothraki away.

The moment Selin saw Viserys, he fell to his knees and pleaded, "Prince, I come before you bearing the blood and tears of the people of Loraine, begging for mercy and protection."

All the emotions he had been holding back suddenly erupted into sobs as he haltingly described the suffering of the common people of Loraine Town to Viserys.

"Ashes and tears now blanket the land of Lorien. These Dothraki are demons who have crawled out of hell. They rape daughters before their fathers and wives before their husbands..."

Tears streaming down his face, Selin reached into his cloak and pulled out a small shoe. Viserys gestured to the Unsullied beside him, who took the shoe and handed it over.

The tattered shoe, no bigger than a hand, drew the attention of everyone present. It was the shoe of a child, perhaps four or five years old. Made of rough hemp with a pointed toe, it was unisex, but its size clearly marked it as a child's shoe—small enough to fit in the palm of a hand.

The inside of the shoe was stained with dark red blood, a stark reminder of the tragedy its owner must have endured. Viserys could even smell the faint scent of rusted iron.

"Prince, shoes like this are scattered all over Lorraine Town, and the Dothraki are making more of them every day!"

As Viserys examined the shoe, his eyes glinted with a cold light. The soul within him, from another world, stirred up many painful memories. Yet he managed to remain composed, noting that Selin was a shrewd man who knew how to tug at the hearts of those in power.

Dany, seated nearby, had a clear view of the shoe. She could see how deeply it affected Viserys, whose violet eyes had reddened slightly.

Viserys handed the small shoe to the Unsullied beside him, instructing him to show it to Connington and Kambron. This gesture from Viserys bolstered Selin's confidence.

Connington gazed at the tiny shoe before him, filled with a strong desire to send troops immediately. However, he knew that Tyrosh's strength alone was insufficient to challenge the Horselord. The so-called "Four Daughters Alliance" was fragile at best, and a hasty attack would only invite greater retaliation, further endangering the lives of ordinary civilians.

Viserys's decision to pass the shoe to him was clearly a signal to prepare for military action. Kambron, too, recognized Viserys's intentions. In fact, Kambron had long harbored dissatisfaction with Viserys's capture of Tyrosh, considering the "slave uprising" strategy dishonorable. If Viserys insisted on going to war with the Horselord, the outcome would be grim. Kambron even began to contemplate leaving Tyrosh.

After a moment of silence, Viserys finally spoke:

"Lord Selin, you are a good mayor. I am aware of the situation, and I will fulfill my duties."

At this, Selin knelt and bowed once again. "On behalf of the people of Lorraine Town, I thank you! You are the sun that shines upon us all!"

After Selin departed, Connington quickly sought out Viserys to inquire about his decision. Viserys, perceiving Connington's concerns, did not answer directly. Instead, he asked how many troops and supplies would be needed to wage a full-scale war against the Dothraki.

This question reassured Connington. It meant that Viserys was still thinking clearly.

"Considering that the Dothraki are primarily cavalry and far more familiar with the vast grasslands than we are, we'd need at least three times their number—over 150,000 troops. Additionally, we would require at least 3 million gold dragons for supplies. Factoring in logistics, we would need about 200,000 laborers," Connington advised.

Viserys nodded. The estimate was sound. Connington, once the Hand of the King, had indeed thought of everything. Both Young Connington and Dany awaited Viserys's decision with anticipation. Deep down, Dany wanted to send troops to repel the Dothraki, but after hearing Connington's analysis, she realized it was reasonable. Three million gold dragons equaled Tyrosh's entire tax revenue for five years. Even with the profits from tobacco, it would take more than two years to raise the funds, and Tyrosh alone could not support an army of hundreds of thousands. The only hope would be if the "Four Daughters Alliance" united; Tyrosh couldn't handle it alone.

What Connington didn't know, however, was that Viserys had already thoroughly tracked the movements of the various Dothraki khalasars on the grasslands. He just hadn't had the chance to share this information yet. Unfortunately, he had less than 3,000 cavalrymen at his disposal. If he had 10,000 or 20,000, he wouldn't waste time negotiating with the Dothraki—he would march straight to the Horselord's tent and make him bow.

So he asked again, "If I had full control over the Dothraki, how much of an army and how many supplies would I need?"

"Full control?" Connington asked, clearly puzzled by what Viserys meant.

Viserys looked at the Conningtons and said, "As I mentioned, the age of magic is upon us. You could say that I have 'eyes' on the Dothraki Sea, and their movements are no secret to me."

"Eyes?" Connington tried to grasp Viserys's words, recalling how Aegon the Conqueror, atop the Black Dread, had kept the armies of the Seven Kingdoms in check during his conquest. But Viserys didn't have a dragon—could it be some kind of magic?

Though uncertain of how Viserys knew the Dothraki's movements, Connington relied on his experience to answer. "The Dothraki's greatest strength is the 'advantage of location' you mentioned. If we can negate the Dothraki Sea as a barrier, we would only need an army of equal or even smaller size to defeat them! As for military expenses and supplies, perhaps a million gold dragons would suffice."

Despite his excitement, Connington recognized that Tyrosh alone still lacked the necessary troops.

Viserys then pulled out a map and pointed to a location in the northwest of the Two Lakes region. "Here—this is where the Dothraki are camped. There are about 3,000 of them. If I can wipe them out, will that convince the other Free Cities to join the war against the Dothraki?"

"Three thousand..." Connington quickly calculated the impact on both sides' morale if they managed to destroy these 3,000 Dothraki.

After a brief moment, Connington said, "If we can eliminate these Dothraki with minimal losses, it will greatly boost our morale and serve as a significant deterrent to the Dothraki. It should also shift the Free Cities' stance toward them."

"Summon all officers above the rank of sergeant, all officials above the rank of foot soldier, and all nobles to the throne room. And bring the Dothraki with you," Viserys ordered. "Oh, and the ambassadors from the other Free Cities as well."

"Prince, are you certain about this?" Connington asked, despite his deep respect for Viserys's strategic mind.

"Didn't I tell you? I have my 'eyes' on the Dothraki Sea. They won't escape!" Viserys replied confidently.

Chapter 209: The Windblown’s Ladder of Contempt

After receiving Viserys' summons, Tyrosh's upper echelons gathered at the Archon's palace.

Among them were the Windblown's sergeants, the bureaucrats and officers Viserys had promoted from the ranks of former slaves, and Tyrosh's old nobility. They were already aware of Jhaqo's visit to Tyrosh some time ago, and though they had their own speculations, Connington had remained tight-lipped, revealing nothing. Viserys had now called them together to discuss the looming threat of war with the Dothraki.

"Those damn Dothraki!" Darsent exclaimed angrily. Originally from Tyrosh, he had been appointed as the "Deputy Commander of the Guard," a position far superior to his previous life as a sellsword. The job offered safety and a good salary, and the thought of the Dothraki disturbing his peaceful existence infuriated him. But then he noticed Caggo's cold stare.

"I-I-I-I didn't mean it that way," Darsent stammered, quickly backtracking.

Caggo said nothing and walked straight into the council chamber. Although he was a Dothraki by birth, he had long abandoned the life of a barbarian. If Tyrosh were threatened, his own interests would be at risk. To Caggo, Viserys was the most powerful Khal imaginable. Like many of the Windblown's sergeants and officers, he had married into a Tyroshi family. They were no longer mere mercenaries; Tyrosh's affairs had become their own.

As the group made their way to the throne room, they discussed the situation in hushed tones. The throne room itself had been completely transformed, a project overseen by Connington. It was now adorned with dragon motifs and modeled as closely as possible after the Throne Hall of the Red Keep in King's Landing. While the Iron Throne was unattainable, the original Archon's throne had been elevated by three feet, and its back was raised by one meter, with a three-headed dragon pattern carved into it. The walls were draped with alternating black-and-red Targaryen banners and blue-and-white-striped Windblown banners, the latter featuring a new three-headed dragon emblem that everyone agreed was quite imposing.

In addition to the dragon imagery, Connington had incorporated elements of the Faith of the Seven, as well as statues of other gods, such as the Red God and the Moonsingers, at Viserys' suggestion. The Windblown prided themselves on tolerance and assimilation, values that had led to their growth. Now numbering 11,000, they were the largest mercenary group in the Disputed Lands and even the entire Free Cities.

Though officially a mercenary company, the Windblown had effectively become a permanent fixture in Tyrosh. With 4,000 soldiers, they had far surpassed their previous size, and their sergeants and officers had naturally risen to become Tyrosh's new elite.

In the council chamber, nearly 50 people—comprising Tyrosh's old nobility, led by Kambron, the Windblown's new elite, and the talented individuals Viserys had promoted from the ranks of slaves—gathered to discuss the Dothraki threat. As they waited for Viserys to arrive, whispers filled the room. In any war, there are always those who advocate for peace and those who favor conflict. Darsent was clearly in the former camp, a staunch advocate of peace.

"We're on an island anyway. The Dothraki can take what they want. Sending an army would only cost us more." His words were quickly met with opposition.

"But what about the taxes?" Dick retorted sharply. "Do you really think a small island can support Tyrosh's 300,000 people?" As a nobleman of Westeros, Dick understood that while a lord might live in a castle, he couldn't ignore the needs of the peasants under his care. If he did, they would flee, leaving his castle worthless. To him, the so-called Free Cities were just larger castles that required more help to maintain. Though he kept his thoughts on the Free Cities to himself, he ran a hand through his red-and-blue hair, stood, and addressed those around him.

"Everyone knows how vast the Grass Sea is. The Dothraki... well, they're all horsemen. We can't catch up with them! And as for Drogo, you all know he commands 50,000 warriors—all cavalry. There's no way we can win this battle."

"Hmph! I'm not afraid of 500,000, let alone 50,000. No wonder the Prince never takes you anywhere. Pah! Coward!" Regis, fresh from the battlefield and full of energy, glared at Darsent and shouted.

"Who are you calling a coward?" Darsent shot back, though he knew deep down he was one. Still, he couldn't afford to show it here.

"You!" shouted Gerrold, a dark-skinned man, as he stood up.

Among the Windblown officers, there was now a chain of contempt. At the top were those who had fought alongside Viserys against the pirates and during the slave uprising—a testament to their bravery and loyalty. Next were those who had joined him at the Battle of the Dragon's Flame Fortress, the last group to be added to the Windblown.

The room erupted into noise as the arguments escalated, but some remained calm. The Unsullied officers, like Conwyra, were focused only on following Viserys' orders. Others, like Virgil, who had died in battle, hadn't thought about anything beyond the battlefield. For them, Viserys' promise to reduce their military service by one year for every three heads taken was all that mattered. They were only interested in killing, indifferent to who the enemy was.

Then there were men like Kambron, who had no real influence. When the time came to fight, they would simply collect their pay and be done with it. Viserys had kept him alive only to prevent the nobles of the other Free Cities from overreacting.

In the Great Hall, it became clear that the war party held the majority.

Just as the group began discussing strategies, the guards outside announced, "The Regent Prince is here!"

Everyone stood up as Viserys entered, accompanied by Dany, Jon Connington and the others.

All eyes were drawn to the black robe he wore, reflecting the admiration they held for him. This young man, who had proven his strength in one-on-one combat just over a year ago, had now grown into a commanding figure. Though the mercenaries lacked the literacy to express their admiration with eloquent phrases like "dragon among men" or "divine presence," their respect was unmistakable. Especially for Kambron, Viserys had arrived at the palace a year ago as Hoyt's escort and now he is the master of the house.

Viserys ascended the high throne and addressed the assembly with a calm authority, "Please sit." His tone was measured, and though he dispensed with the formalities, his sheer presence ensured that no one dared to challenge him. The hall fell into a hushed silence as they awaited his words.

Regis, who had once expressed a desire to learn combat from Viserys, had since become a fervent advocate for war. Sensing his eagerness, Viserys gave a slight nod, signaling him to speak.

"Prince, are we going to war with the Dothraki?" Regis asked, his voice charged with anticipation.

Chapter 210: I’ve Embraced the Faith of the Seven

"Prince, are we going to war with the Dothraki?" Regis asked, though all eyes were fixed on Viserys.

Viserys surveyed the room, noting the faces full of expectation. Even without detailed explanations, the military merit system he had established was enough to stir the ambitions of many who saw war as a path to fortune. Yet, something about the situation struck him as unusual.

Instead of answering Regis directly, Viserys gestured for him to sit and called for Jhaqo to enter. "The Dothraki envoy has arrived..."

The crowd turned, curiosity sparking as they anticipated the arrival of the Bloodrider to the mightiest Khal. Moments later, Jhaqo entered the hall—a man with intricate tattoos on his face, gold earrings, a gold nose ring, and his chest and arms partially exposed. His presence was jarringly out of place, like a donkey that had wandered into a theater, clashing with the grand and refined atmosphere around him.

The envoys from Myr and Lys looked apprehensive at the sight of the fierce Dothraki, but Jhaqo remained unconcerned. As he stepped into the hall, he was momentarily taken aback by the grandeur of the scene. 'These people who live in stone houses can actually create such a beautiful place,' he thought, comparing it to the nine towers manse in Pentos, which now seemed inferior. He was delighted, finding the enormous three-headed dragon banner and the tall statues far superior to anything in the Dothraki's tents.

Sensing the gaze of the crowd upon him, Jhaqo quickly masked his surprise, proudly raising his head like a strutting goose as he fixed his eyes on Viserys' throne. The sight of Viserys, with his silver hair and black robes, filled him with envy. He longed to sit on that throne himself.

"Greetings, Prince Regent," Jhaqo said casually, his eyes darting around the room.

Viserys, noticing Jhaqo's flippant demeanor, spoke up sternly, "State your business."

"Prince Regent, there's been a shortage of food on the grasslands recently, and Khal Drogo has asked to borrow some grain," Jhaqo replied, completely omitting the so-called 'apology' that had been expected.

His provocative tone and dismissive expression stirred unease among the audience. Conwyra and the other officers of slave origin quietly placed their hands on their sword hilts, ready to strike at Viserys' command.

"And what else?" Viserys asked, his tone still flat and controlled.

Jhaqo sneered inwardly, thinking this Viserys was easily manipulated. He continued, "Our great Khal Drogo hopes to form an alliance with you. He wishes to marry your sister, Daenerys."

At the mention of Drogo's name, Dany frowned, her expression filled with disgust. Ever since Illyrio had first introduced her to the idea of Drogo, the very name had made her feel physically ill. The thought of being tied to a man she considered a beast, a savage, was unbearable. Her revulsion had only grown with each mention of the Dothraki.

For the envoys from Lys and Myr, the proposition seemed like a straightforward solution: trade Daenerys for peace. If it were their own houses, they would have eagerly washed their daughters clean, eager to use the marriage to gain political capital. But now, they were mere spectators, their opinions irrelevant. They quickly noticed, however, that the officers of Tyrosh were on the brink of a violent outburst.

"You fool! How can the blood of the Dragonlord be mingled with that of a beast?" Meris, who stood closest to Dany, rose to her feet, pointing an accusatory finger at Jhaqo.

It was clear to all that Viserys' advisers had already accepted Dany as their future queen, and Jhaqo's so-called "marriage proposal" was nothing short of an insult. Meris was the first to speak out, but her outrage quickly spread, and almost everyone in the hall rose in protest.

"How dare you! You deserve to burn in hell!"

"Filthy barbarian, go back to where you came from!"

"Do you think my sword isn't sharp enough?"

The outrage was palpable. The officers, along with the bureaucrats, were even more furious than the soldiers. To them, the idea that this barbarian would dare try to take away their "Young Mother" was an affront beyond tolerance.

Jhaqo, now faced with a hall full of armored men glaring at him with deadly intent, felt a wave of anxiety. He had never expected such a violent reaction to his proposal. Suddenly, he found himself at a loss, his bravado crumbling. Desperately trying to regain his composure, he reminded himself of the fifty thousand roaring warriors waiting behind him and attempted to recover his confidence.

Jhaqo looked up at Viserys and issued a threat, his voice with a forced bravado. "Prince Regent, I come with the desire for peace. Do you want to hear your people continue to wail under the Dothraki machetes?"

His neck stiffened, and his tone was so agitated that his thick gold earrings and nose ring quivered with each word. Viserys observed the scene before him, noting with satisfaction that under his rule, there were no cowardly generals among his ranks.

"Who will go with me?" Viserys asked, his voice calm but resolute. Jhaqo's heart sank; this was turning into a disaster, one that he might not survive.

"Prince, let me go with you! My crossbow is nearly rusted!" Dick stood up eagerly.

"Master, please, let me fight for you, for Daenerys!" another shouted.

The room surged with emotion, leaving Jhaqo overwhelmed by the fervor of the crowd.

"Prince, no one knows the Dothraki's tactics better than I. Let me go with you to fight them!" Caggo's voice was low, yet his towering presence made him impossible to ignore.

Though once a Dothraki, Caggo had decided to put down roots here; he no longer saw himself as one of them. If he failed to prove himself in this war, he knew he would never truly belong. Jhaqo recognized him instantly.

"Caggo! You shameful Dothraki, serving the milkmen!" Jhaqo spat.

Caggo unsheathed his curved blade and approached him. "I'm talking to the Prince, so why are you interfering?"

"What are you doing?" Jhaqo demanded as he and his entourage drew their weapons. The air grew colder as the metallic chorus of unsheathing swords filled the hall, the glint of steel reflecting off the walls. Suddenly, Jhaqo and his men found themselves surrounded, their hands and feet frozen in place.

"Stop!" Viserys' command rang out, forcing everyone to halt and retreat. For a brief moment, Jhaqo felt a flicker of relief, believing he had escaped danger. But Viserys' next order made his blood run cold.

"Caggo! Cut off his nose!"

"No! You can't do this!" Jhaqo protested, but his words fell on deaf ears as his guards were swiftly subdued. He himself was held at spearpoint, unable to move as Caggo advanced toward him.

Paralyzed with fear, Jhaqo could only watch as Caggo approached, his sneer deepening. "Caggo! You are a disgrace to the Dothraki! The Horse God will spit on your soul!"

Caggo smirked. "I believe in the Seven now."

With that, a blinding pain shot through Jhaqo as part of his nose was sliced off. He gasped for air, but the blood that poured out choked him, filling his nasal cavity and lungs. He coughed violently, struggling for breath. Caggo casually tossed the bloody piece of flesh to the ground and crushed it underfoot, a cold, final act of dominance.

Chapter 211: Seven Dragon Eggs

At this point, Jhaqo was in so much pain that he could not speak. He could only cover his nose and glare at Viserys with murderous intent.

Blood flowed from his fingers, forming several crimson lines down his arm until it dripped from his elbow. His upper and lower lips opened and closed like a gasping fish, and he barely managed to stand with the help of the guards.

"I don't like killing envoys. You can go back," Viserys said, waving his hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly.

Jhaqo wanted to utter a harsh retort, but the pain silenced him. The guards outside rushed in and escorted him out of the hall and the palace. Only the bloodstains on the ground served as evidence that Jhaqo had been there.

Viserys turned to the officers, who still looked unsatisfied. "Caggo," he called. The throne, specially designed by Connington, amplified Viserys's voice, making it loud and clear with a long, lingering echo.

Caggo stood up and walked to the center of the throne room. "You and I will lead the cavalry as the vanguard."

"Yes, my lord."

"Conwyra."

"My lord," Conwyra responded, stepping beside Caggo.

"You will lead the 2,000 Unsullied."

"Yes, my lord."

"Dick, Gerrold, you will each command 500 longbowmen..."

Viserys continued issuing orders, assembling a force of 5,000 troops. His goal was to annihilate the 3,000 Dothraki cavalry under Jhaqo's command. Only then could he inspire enough confidence among the Free Cities to launch a major battle against the Horselords.

"Prince, what about me?" Regis asked anxiously.

"You don't need to go this time. You're too tired."

"Prince, I'm not tired!"

"Execute the order!"

Firmly refused, Regis had no choice but to relent.

After everyone had dispersed from the throne hall, Jon Connington approached Viserys. Having just returned less than half a day ago, he was already preparing for another war. Even the strongest man would struggle under such strain. Although Viserys's intelligence suggested they should win, Jon Connington was still concerned about his health.

"Prince, why don't you let me lead this campaign? I think you need to rest."

Viserys looked at him and said, "Ser Connington, I appreciate your concern, but this is our first battle against the Dothraki, and it's crucial. We must win this battle decisively, or the alliance will crumble. After this, we'll be in a full-scale war with the Horselords, and we need to give our allies the confidence to see it through."

As Jon Connington listened, he studied Viserys's face and saw no signs of fatigue. He let out a sigh of relief.

'Is it the blessing of the late king?' he wondered. 'The Targaryens are truly fortunate to have such a resilient leader.'

"Okay, I'll start preparing now. We can deploy the troops in two days at most."

"You've worked hard," Viserys said with a nod.

It took Jon Connington two days to gather the supplies needed for 5,000 troops. Even with reserves prepared in advance, he had to work nearly around the clock to accomplish it in such a short time. When Viserys expressed his concern, Connington felt a bit embarrassed. In his mind, his own efforts were insignificant compared to what Viserys had endured.

...

In Daenerys's room, Viserys carefully placed the two newly acquired blue and red dragon eggs among the black, silver, bronze, green, and yellow ones. As Viserys nurtured the eggs, the five previously obtained dragon eggs glistened like jewels in the sunlight. The golden yellow dragon egg, which had been stolen by pirates, had also been fully restored through blood magic.

"I hope I can fight alongside you one day," Viserys mused.

"There will be a day. The red comet has already appeared. Soon, we will be able to hatch the dragons," Daenerys replied.

"When the dragons hatch, can we go back?" Dany asked, a note of longing in her voice. As more Westerosi joined the Windblown, her desire to see the homeland she had never known grew stronger. Dragonstone, King's Landing, the Riverlands, Harrenhal... These names, once meaningless to her, had become places of deep significance—where she and Viserys were born.

"No, the dragons will still be very young when they hatch. It will take at least a year or two before they can be of any real use to us."

However, Viserys knew that once the dragons hatched, the balance of power would shift. His influence would grow rapidly alongside the dragons. When the lords of Westeros saw the dragons, the Baratheons' claim to the throne would lose all legitimacy.

Even the lands of the 'stag, falcon, wolf, and fish' would be engulfed in flames.

It would not be an idle threat to raise three dragon banners in every household.

...

Jhaqo and his men, driven out of Tyrosh, no longer carried their former arrogance. They resembled refugees fleeing disaster, stripped of their pride. Their horses had been seized by Viserys, forcing Jhaqo and his guards to sell their braided locks of hair just to afford a few boat tickets and some donkeys to escape the city.

After three days of torment, Jhaqo had become numb to the pain in his nose. His men covered his face with a plain white cloth, but the blood seeping from where his nose had been stained the cloth black and red, like a dirty, worn-out handkerchief.

"Ko! It's one of ours," one of Jhaqo's men said, hearing the faint sound of bells. Following the sound, they found Dothraki scouts wandering the Two Lakes region. The Dothraki, maintaining their tradition of fighting in the Great Grass Sea, used large numbers of scouts to both gather intelligence and conceal their own movements.

"Call them over!" Jhaqo's voice was strange and distorted, a result of his missing nose. The summoned Dothraki scouts didn't recognize their leader at first, but one of Jhaqo's guards confirmed his identity.

"Send word to all the wandering warriors to return. I will lead you to burn everything here!"

Jhaqo commanded, his rage boiling over. He then ordered one of his personal guards to ride to Drogo and summon him with his army to the Disputed Lands for revenge.

For several days, Jhaqo endured the agony of his missing nose as they traveled. He swore to exact the most brutal revenge on Viserys. However, blinded by his fury, Jhaqo failed to notice the golden eagle circling overhead.

Unbeknownst to him, as soon as Jhaqo and his men left Tyrosh, they were tracked by Viserys. Without realizing it, Jhaqo had become a "guide" for his enemy.

Chapter 212: Jhaqo’s Revenge

When Jhaqo finally arrived at his camp, the sky had already turned as black as velvet. He had chosen a slope for his camp, strategically positioning it to provide shelter from the wind. The surrounding area was flat, and during the day, the guards at the top of the slope would have an unobstructed view, turning the slope into a natural watchtower. Nearly 3,000 of his men were spread across the hillside, like a large pancake. Confident in their reliance on scouts, the Dothraki hadn't bothered to set up any barricades, certain that they would detect any approaching enemy long before they posed a threat. If the enemy was weak, they would pounce like wolves; if stronger, they would flee, leaving behind a trail of horse manure.

Jhaqo's return caused a stir in his Khalasar, and the Dothraki chieftains who had received word of his arrival rushed out to meet him. As he entered the camp, the familiar scent of horse manure gave him a sense of security after the long, grueling journey. The Dothraki were a people closely intertwined with their horses, and despite their nomadic lifestyle, the air in their camp was tolerable, a mix of animal and human scents. After raiding several villages and towns, the camp wasn't just filled with horse manure—it was also teeming with women and children taken captive. Hearing the cries of the women and the lewd laughter of the Dothraki warriors, Jhaqo felt a surge of excitement.

As he passed through the camp, the Dothraki warriors bowed to him, slightly easing the sting of the humiliation he had suffered in Tyrosh. However, many of the warriors, under the cover of night, hadn't yet noticed that their "Ko" had lost his nose.

"Before midnight—ho—before midnight, have all centurions in my tent!" Jhaqo ordered in a hoarse voice, struggling to adjust to speaking without his nose. The air he breathed felt dry, lacking the moisture his nasal passages once provided.

...

Meanwhile, Caggo, himself a Dothraki, was well-acquainted with the habits of the Dothraki mercenaries. With the aid of the "whistling crows," they had managed to detect the Dothraki scouts in advance, allowing him and Viserys's 1,500 light cavalry to approach Jhaqo's camp unnoticed. To maintain their secrecy, they had to eliminate at least 40 Dothraki scouts along the way, nearly half of whom were killed by Viserys himself. In Caggo's eyes, Viserys was the "Khal" he was destined to follow. As far as he knew, no Khal in Dothraki history had shown more power than Viserys.

"Prince, the hill ahead is Jhaqo's camp," Caggo warned, though he didn't know that Viserys's golden eagle had already scouted it.

"Send a raven to Conwyra. Have him block the western exit," Viserys ordered.

"Yes!"

Viserys was determined. He intended to take 3,000 Dothraki heads, not only to send a strong message to the Four Free Cities but also to cement his authority within the confederation.

In Jhaqo's tent, 20 centurions had gathered. Unaware of what had transpired in Tyrosh, they believed Jhaqo would soon lead them on another raid.

...

"Done."

"These milkmen women are too fragile. I barely had any fun before they died."

"Try their men—they're no different from the women."

"Better be cautious. We could sell them in Slaver's Bay instead."

To the Dothraki, the people of the Two Lakes were nothing more than lambs for the slaughter. These villagers weren't protected by the Three Free Cities; they were left to fend for themselves, abandoned to the whims of the Dothraki. The Archon of Tyrosh, the Prince of Lys, and the Lord of Myr sent nothing but tax collectors, as if the people were born to bear heavy taxes and suffer Dothraki raids.

The civilians captured by the Dothraki, penned like livestock, had long since grown numb. Suddenly, someone whispered, "Ko is coming," and the Dothraki centurions, who had been speaking loudly, fell silent. But they quickly noticed something unusual—Jhaqo had donned a golden mask. It was newly made, a bit rough around the edges, but it gave him the semblance of a nose.

With his limited understanding, Jhaqo couldn't fathom why the golden nose didn't feel as good as the one he'd lost. But he had no choice; the two bloody holes in his face had destroyed his image. To preserve his dignity, he had ordered the creation of the gold mask on the spot.

He glared at his centurions with murderous intent and declared, "The damned milkman rejected the Khal's generosity! Not only did he refuse to support the people of the noble horse god, but he also refused to marry his sister to the Khal. We will make that arrogant fool taste our curved swords!"

Jhaqo's words immediately ignited the fury of the Dothraki in the tent. As the most powerful Khal in history, Drogo held an almost divine status among them. To some, he was nearly the embodiment of the "Horse God." Viserys's defiance was seen as an unforgivable insult.

"Yes! Let's show him!"

"How dare he reject Khal Drogo's kindness! I'll carve the flesh from his bones!"

Jhaqo continued, "I have sent word to the great Khal Drogo that I will create the greatest carpet of milkmaids' blood before his army arrives! Kill them all!"

"Kill them all!" the Dothraki roared in unison.

For a moment, their cries seemed to shake the very walls of Jhaqo's tent. In recent days, they had nearly exhausted the loot and supplies they had plundered. Restlessness had begun to spread, with nearly half the Dothraki growing impatient. Now, not only could they continue their spree of looting and killing, but they also had an even stronger reason to do so.

As they reveled in the anticipation of a new round of bloodshed, a faint tremor suddenly rippled beneath their feet. The tent, which had been like a pot of boiling water, quickly cooled as if doused with a bucket of ice. The Dothraki, raised alongside their horses, recognized the sensation immediately—it was the unmistakable sound of galloping hooves. And judging by the intensity of the vibrations, there were at least a thousand riders approaching!

Chapter 213: The Hunt for Jhaqo

Viserys had demonstrated his dragonbone bow to Caggo just ten minutes ago. Nine arrows seemed to meld with the night, and with a sharp, piercing sound, it struck down the necks of a Dothraki warrior one after another. Effortless.

Caggo, who had always prided himself on his skill with bow and horse, felt as though he had witnessed a miracle. What did it mean to shoot nine arrows in quick succession, each hitting its mark? Even the mightiest Dothraki warrior couldn't achieve such a feat. This led Caggo to think that Viserys was the stallion destined to mount the world.

Viserys had wanted to impress Caggo, but he also had other plans...

Soon, they led 1,500 light cavalry to the top of the slope. The two men looked down at Jhaqo's camp, waiting for news from Conwyra.

"Prince, that must be Jhaqo's tent," Caggo said, pointing to a tent surrounded by torches and braziers, practically marking his territory.

"Where do they usually keep the civilians they've captured?" Viserys asked.

"Next to Jhaqo's tent. Only the Khalasar's leaders are allowed to distribute... distribute things," Caggo hesitated, realizing that Viserys might not appreciate the truth about the loot.

"Understood. Try to protect the civilians as much as possible."

"Yes, my lord."

Viserys soon received word from the messenger raven that Conwyra had reached the desired location. The note in his hand burned with a quiet flame, like a freshly plucked flower, and Caggo was momentarily distracted.

"Light the fires," Viserys ordered, and hundreds of torches flared to life within the silent ranks of the cavalry. From a distance, the slope seemed ablaze.

He looked down at the Dothraki camp below, confident that victory was within his grasp. Now, he had to face Khal Jhaqo's fifty thousand warriors.

Viserys had never taken the nomads' army seriously. The Dothraki were known to disdain armor and live in tents. In other words, they were not very formidable. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been halted by the three thousand Unsullied at Qohor.

Now, Viserys could say he had the entire map open before him; the Dothraki army held no secrets from him. With 5,000 cavalry, he could march straight to the Dothraki holy city. But something puzzled him—why would they sought an alliance by marriage? He couldn't understand it.

'Forget it. If I can't figure it out, I won't dwell on it. When the war is over, I can ask it to the Horselord himself,' Viserys thought. "Prepare to charge!"

A cavalryman stood on his horse, waving a torch to signal the orders. Within moments, the 1,000 cavalrymen split into two formations, like twin fire-breathing serpents, rapidly advancing on the Dothraki camp.

As Viserys' army emerged like ghosts from the darkness, Jhaqo was thrown into complete disarray. Some Dothraki warriors managed to leap onto their horses, only to find themselves lost in the chaos. Others couldn't locate their mounts at all.

The eerie, piercing cry of a golden eagle cut through the night like a sharp needle. The Dothraki's fighting spirit and discipline were even worse than Viserys had anticipated. Before his army could fully engage the scattered camp, the Dothraki were already trampling over each other in a panicked frenzy.

Some tried to flee in the opposite direction, but they hadn't gone far before they encountered a darker presence.

"Unsullied! It's the Unsullied!" the panicked Dothraki shouted, desperately trying to control their horses, but they found themselves trapped by their own fleeing comrades.

Hundreds of Dothraki cavalrymen were packed together, vulnerable and exposed in front of Conwyra's defensive line. A sudden chill swept through the air, and when they looked up, a deadly rain of steel descended upon them. Under Conwyra's command, the Unsullied hurled their spears with lethal precision. Horses whinnied in terror, and riders screamed in agony.

As Jhaqo prepared to charge, his eyes locked onto a familiar figure—Viserys!

Jhaqo had never seen such a strange weapon before. He had always believed that the spears used by knights were only for thrusting, and that swords were needed for slashing. But to his shock, Viserys wielded his unusual weapon with deadly versatility, stabbing, slashing, and hacking his way through the battlefield. No one could stand against him; no one could even slow him down.

Jhaqo couldn't comprehend how Viserys's army had arrived so suddenly, as if his scouts had simply vanished into thin air. For a fleeting moment, Jhaqo even lost the courage to mount his horse and face Viserys in battle.

"No! A Dothraki can only die on his horse!" Jhaqo roared, grabbing a yellow warhorse that had lost its rider. The horse's owner had been preparing to clean it, so it wasn't even saddled, but Jhaqo didn't care. He was Drogo's Ko—the strongest Ko in Drogo's army! No one could match his riding skills.

Unsheathing his curved blade, Jhaqo prepared to charge Viserys. But then, Viserys revealed a power that shattered his courage. With a single swing of his strange weapon, Viserys lifted a burly Dothraki centurion off the ground—yes, lifted him! The centurion dangled from Viserys's spear like a rag doll, or a piece of rotten meat.

Even Drogo would have praised the centurion as a worthy warrior. Yet, here was Viserys, lifting him effortlessly with his spear—a display of strength no human should possess. But Viserys wasn't done.

He held the centurion's corpse high above his head, then flung it with the force of a fisherman casting a line. The hundred-pound mass of flesh hurtled through the air and slammed into Jhaqo, knocking him off his horse.

Dazed and disoriented, Jhaqo realized his golden mask was gone. As his vision cleared, he found Viserys's spear at his throat, the cold smell of blood and steel filling his nostrils. He felt as if his lungs and soul had been pierced.

Chapter 214: Tower of Skulls

"My lord—no, I mean, Prince," Jhaqo stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to mimic the respectful tone of a merchant. But fear gripped him tightly. Above, the dark clouds parted, and the moon emerged behind Viserys, casting a shadow over Jhaqo that felt as heavy as a mountain.

Bang.

Jhaqo's cheeks twitched uncontrollably as Viserys, rather than killing him, ordered him to be taken away. With their commander captured, the remaining Dothraki were unable to mount any effective resistance.

Conwyra led the Unsullied, moving like a massive steel rake across the slope, scouring the battlefield twice. Meanwhile, Caggo led the cavalry in pursuit of the fleeing Dothraki. As night deepened, the stench of blood began to permeate the air, so strong it drew wolves from miles away.

Under the officers' commands, Viserys's army systematically decapitated the fallen horsemen. The pile of severed heads grew higher and higher, eventually forming a small hill. The yellow soil eagerly drank the blood that seeped into it.

Jhaqo stood atop the hill with Viserys, teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He had once beheaded others without hesitation, but now, the heads being severed were those of his own people. Even more disturbing was the mechanical efficiency of the beheadings, resembling a gruesome assembly line. Some soldiers stripped valuables from the bodies, others carried them, while still others performed the cutting and collected the heads.

Adding to Jhaqo's bewilderment, Viserys ordered the Dothraki warriors' braids to be cut off, though their purpose remained unclear to him.

At dawn, Conwyra presented Viserys with the final count.

"Master, we have beheaded 2,741 and captured 272 alive. The bodies have been collected and are ready for disposal."

Viserys took the bow and arrows Conwyra handed him, and Caggo offered him a lit torch. Lighting the arrow, Viserys shot it into the pile of Dothraki bodies.

The burning arrow traced a path of orange light through the air before sinking into the mound of corpses. As soon as it made contact, yellow flames erupted, engulfing the pile like a python swallowing its prey whole.

Jhaqo stood dazed, the scene before him hollowing him out like a shell devoid of a soul. He looked utterly lost. In a single night, more than 3,000 of his people had perished—not only the elite warriors he had handpicked from his khalasar but also those given to him by Khal Drogo.

He knew that even if he returned, there would be no mercy for him.

Viserys watched the pile of burning corpses and commanded, "Cut off their thumbs and big toes, and throw them into the fire."

The coldness of his order sent a chill through Jhaqo's heart.

"Yes, my lord," came the reply.

Moments later, the screams of the prisoners echoed across the camp. For a Dothraki, losing their thumbs and big toes was a crippling punishment, stripping them of their ability to run, jump, or control the reins. In the harsh conditions of the Grass Sea, such injuries would almost certainly lead to infection, rendering them completely useless.

This was Viserys's punishment.

As Jhaqo watched hundreds of severed thumbs being tossed into the flames, his fear of Viserys peaked. It was the primal fear of prey confronting a natural predator. When Viserys turned and walked toward him, Jhaqo's body began to tremble uncontrollably, his muscles nearly seizing from sheer terror.

In the original novel, after the Horselord became incapacitated, Jhaqo had been the first to seize the opportunity, leading over 10,000 men away and declaring himself Khal. Ambitious and shrewd, he was acutely aware of danger. Now, as the scent of steel and tobacco reached him from Viserys, his legs weakened, barely able to support him.

"Pri... Prince," Jhaqo stammered, his voice quivering.

"I won't kill you," Viserys replied calmly. "Go back and tell Drogo that if he still considers himself a warrior, he should not make life difficult for the poor civilians. Let him fight me one-on-one. If I lose, everything I have is his. If he loses, I won't take his life, but he must agree never to cross the Forest of Qohor."

At Viserys's demand, Caggo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Forbidding the Dothraki from crossing the Forest of Qohor would effectively halve their territory, cutting them off from the more fertile lands—akin to the Huns losing the Qilian and Yanzhi Mountains.

Viserys's terms were severe, but Jhaqo was too focused on surviving to concern himself with the implications.

"Yes, yes, Prince," Jhaqo stuttered, his voice trembling. He was given two horses and watched as Viserys let him ride east with a group of crippled prisoners.

At that moment, Caggo stepped forward and asked, "Prince, do you really intend to fight Drogo?"

Viserys smiled and responded, "Do you want to a Khal?"

Caggo hesitated, confused by the question, but something long dormant ignited within him—a flame rekindled in his heart.

The vast Dothraki Sea of Grass rivaled the size of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Viserys knew he couldn't directly govern such an immense territory. Instead, he planned to support his own allies and influence Dothraki affairs from a distance, a strategy that would yield greater benefits. The animal skins from the Grass Sea would become valuable "strategic materials" under his control.

By planting this seed of ambition, Viserys had awakened Caggo's desire, but he left his question unanswered. Mounting his horse, Viserys took with him more than 3,000 captured horses and over 2,000 severed heads, returning to Tyrosh. He intended to use those heads to construct a monumental cenotaph.

...

Vaes Dothrak, the largest city of the Dothraki, was unlike any other city. It had no walls and sprawled across a vast area around the "Mother of Mountains" and the "Womb of the World." Its crude buildings, made of wood and stone, were tall yet rudimentary, with some even constructed from special grasses. Despite intricate carvings, there was little that could be called artistic.

These structures were built by slaves captured by the Dothraki.

News of Jhaqo's defeat sent shockwaves through Vaes Dothrak. The loss of 3,000 warriors cast a dark shadow over the city. At that time, four Khals ruled the Great Grass Sea, and Drogo had summoned them, though their combined strength was still inferior to his own.

The Khals, along with their sons, Kos, and Bloodriders, gathered in a massive circular wooden building that served as the Dothraki's "Great Hall of the Council." A large circular skylight dominated the center of the hall, designed not only for lighting but also because the Dothraki believed that all their deeds must be witnessed by the sky.

This hall hosted the most important meetings and ceremonies. It was here that the Mother of Dragons had eaten a horse's heart, and where Viserys had been crowned in molten gold.

As the Khals assembled, Drogo had yet to appear. A burly Khal named Ogo spoke first, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You return with only 3,000 men, and they're all crippled. Are your people blind, or are all your horses lame? How dare you show your face here?"

He sneered at Jhaqo, whose face was wrapped in coarse cloth, mocking his shameful return.

Chapter 215: Khal Drogo

Abandoned his khalasar.

Jhaqo, once Drogo's Ko, had been a warrior of unmatched strength, second only to Drogo himself. But now, he was stripped of the status and power needed to stand among the Khals as an equal. He had lost not only his warriors but also his 'quasi-Bloodriders,' who were now crippled and useless. Faced with Ogo's mockery, Jhaqo could not muster a single word in his defense.

"Jhaqo, can you tell us about the battle that day?" asked another Khal, an elderly man with gray hair named Motho. He commanded a Khalasar of aged Dothraki, making his Khalasar one of the weakest. Yet, Motho held a certain level of respect among his people—after all, even the youngest and strongest Dothraki would eventually grow old.

Upon hearing Motho's request, Jhaqo's dull eyes suddenly flickered with fear, as if the vision of that towering, burning pile of corpses had resurfaced before him.

"Jhaqo! Are you deaf?" Ogo barked impatiently, annoyed by Jhaqo's silence.

Among the Dothraki, social standing was brutally clear: whoever commanded the largest Khalasar, the most warriors, and the fiercest fighters had the loudest voice. Perhaps Ogo would have once shown Jhaqo respect, but now, Jhaqo was nothing more than a defeated man, a dog without a spine. Etiquette no longer mattered.

Jhaqo didn't dare to protest. His throat dry, he swallowed mechanically, though there was no moisture left in his mouth.

"That day, I had my warriors stationed on a hill," Jhaqo began, his voice trembling. "We sent out at least 300 scouts, but not a single one returned with a warning... This Viserys, he uses sorcery! His army appeared on the hilltop like ghosts, and we had no time to react. There was also a force of Unsullied who cut off our retreat..."

As Jhaqo recounted the events, the expressions of the Khals grew more solemn. Though he had been defeated, both he and Drogo had once commanded great respect for their abilities. To see such a formidable Ko, now reduced to terror, disturbed them deeply.

The Dothraki's greatest strengths lay in their scouts and their mobility. If these were neutralized, they would stand no chance against the "milkmen" clad in iron armor. The Dothraki were not ignorant; they understood the advantages of armor. But long-held customs and limited resources had prevented them from mass-producing armored warriors. Without these, their traditional methods of warfare were at a dire disadvantage.

"Hmph! You've been beaten, Jhaqo! You're no longer a proud Dothraki—you're nothing but Lamb Men! A Lamb Men without bones!" Ogo sneered, his words dripping with contempt.

He knew exactly how much ground 300 scouts could cover. For Viserys to have slipped past that many without detection was unthinkable. Jhaqo must have sent out "ugly" scouts—unworthy, incompetent warriors—and that, in Ogo's mind, was the cause of his defeat.

"Could there have been a traitor?" suggested a thinner Khal, voicing a possibility that was easier for them to accept.

"A traitor?" Jhaqo echoed, bewildered. He couldn't understand why there would be one; as far as he knew, the men he trusted should have been loyal.

Knock, knock, knock.

While the Dothraki leaders continued their discussion, a steady rhythm of footsteps echoed through the hall, accompanied by the faint jingling of bells. The men turned toward the doorway and saw a large, muscular figure entering. As the figure passed through, his broad frame blocked the light, casting the hall into shadow.

The men quickly rose to their feet, and the sound of bells filled the hall. The Khals bent slightly in respect, while their Kos, Bloodriders, and sons knelt.

The man was Drogo.

His long, black braids, reaching down to his thighs, swayed gently with each step, adorned with golden bells that gleamed like stars. Even silver bells were a rare honor among the Dothraki, and the bronze bells Drogo had once earned as a boy had long been discarded.

Drogo was the greatest Khal of all, undefeated in battle. To the Dothraki, he was the living embodiment of victory and courage.

Thump, thump, thump...

As Drogo ascended to the throne at the center of the hall, his three Bloodriders took their positions behind him. Sitting on the throne, Drogo looked as though he had been born to rule from that seat. The stone throne, inlaid with precious gems, only enhanced his imposing presence.

It was then that the others noticed something unusual—a "milkmaid" stood beside Drogo's Bloodriders, an oddity in the midst of such a gathering.

After a tense silence, Drogo finally spoke in the harsh, guttural tones of the Dothraki language, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Jhaqo, tell me why you have returned alive."

The sound of Drogo's voice sent a shudder through Jhaqo's body. Trembling, he replied, "Great Khal Drogo, Viserys sends you a message."

At the mention of Viserys's name, the Dothraki chiefs perked up, their interest piqued.

Jhaqo took a deep breath and said, "Viserys sends a message: we are not to harm his people, and he challenges you to single combat. If you defeat him, he will surrender everything he possesses. But if you lose, the Dothraki must never cross the Forest of Qohor."

"Insolent boy!" A voice erupted from the crowd before Jhaqo could finish. The speaker was a Khal in his forties, with a few strands of gray in his hair, yet his presence radiated the vigor of youth. This was Zekko, who frequently led his horses to graze near the outskirts of Qohor—territory directly impacted by Viserys's challenge.

Viserys's actions were a direct affront to Zekko's interests. Moreover, Zekko considered himself well-versed in the ways of the Free Cities. He believed that these people, who cowered behind their walls, lacked the courage to face the mighty Dothraki warriors in open combat. To Zekko, Viserys's proposal was not only a violation of Dothraki interests but also an insult to their honor.

However, it seemed Jhaqo wasn't finished. "Viserys also said that if he wins, you must cease accepting gifts from Pentos or any of the Free Cities."

"Kill him!"

"How dare he challenge Drogo? Does he really think he's invincible?"

"Who does he think he is? He's just a coward hiding behind armor!"

The Khals erupted in anger. Whether their outrage was genuine or performed for Drogo's benefit, they knew they had to show it.

At that moment, the "Milkman" Drogo had brought into the hall knelt before him, speaking urgently. "Great Khal Drogo, you must not fall for his tricks. This Viserys is without honor. He strikes from the shadows. He used this tactic to steal Tyrosh, to sneak up on Pentos—he even dabbles in witchcraft. I saw him kill over 200 pirates in an instant with dark magic!"

The speaker was Luwas, a survivor of House Berent. When Viserys and the Red Viper Hoyt attacked Pentos, Luwas had been there, trading with merchants.

He managed to escape unharmed and now sought the Horselords' power for revenge. He was adamant that Drogo should not agree to a one-on-one fight with Viserys.

In truth, this was also why Drogo had brought Luwas to the gathering. Drogo himself was reluctant to face Viserys in single combat. His undefeated record came from thoroughly understanding his enemies, and Viserys's strength remained something of an enigma.

When Luwas mentioned Viserys's alleged use of witchcraft, the faces of the assembled Khals paled. The Dothraki had a deep-seated fear and hatred of witchcraft, and the mere suggestion of it was enough to unsettle even the bravest among them.

"Khal, you must not accept his challenge! A demon lives within him!" Cohollo, one of Drogo's Bloodriders, spoke up from behind. Bald, with a hooked nose and a mouth full of broken teeth, Cohollo's appearance was far from endearing, yet his loyalty to Drogo was unquestionable.

Under Drogo's deliberate manipulation, Viserys had been transformed in the minds of the Dothraki into a figure akin to Gul'dan—a sinister sorcerer with insidious and cruel methods. They believed their Khal could defeat Viserys in open combat, but they feared that Drogo might fall victim to treachery or dark magic.

Drogo had cleverly cultivated this image to preserve his own prestige. By portraying Viserys as an evil sorcerer, Drogo could avoid a direct confrontation without losing his honor. However, as Khal, he still needed to protect the Dothraki's honor and interests.

Sensing the moment was right, Drogo finally spoke. "The lives of more than 3,000 Dothraki warriors cannot go unavenged! The honor of the Dothraki must be upheld, and Viserys must pay the price!"

"Yes! Make him pay the price!" the Dothraki shouted in unison, their excitement building, though there was an undercurrent of absurdity to it all.

At that moment, the old Khal Motho spoke up again, "Great Khal Drogo, I have a suggestion."

"Speak," Drogo replied, though in truth, Motho was also part of Drogo's orchestrated plan.

"We can send one or more of our warriors to fight him. Then, we can renegotiate the terms for the victor's reward," Motho proposed.

Drogo didn't respond immediately, instead looking up at the sky as if deep in thought, contemplating Motho's suggestion.

"Khal Drogo, I will fight for you!" Cohollo declared, stepping forward.

"Khal Drogo, my son will fight for the Dothraki!" Ogo exclaimed, pushing his son forward.

"Khal Drogo, I will fight for the Dothraki!" another warrior shouted, followed by a chorus of volunteers.

The Dothraki were fired up. The thought of Viserys as a sorcerer no longer intimidated them. If they were to die, they knew others would avenge them, and they saw this as an opportunity to win even greater rewards for their Khalasars. Deep in their hearts, they believed that no sorcery could stand against the unstoppable force of Dothraki iron hooves.

Chapter 216: The Black Goat and the Triumphal Arch

The meeting was over.

For Drogo, the loss of 3,000 men was neither insignificant nor catastrophic. It was a loss he could tolerate, but one that required an explanation to maintain the loyalty of his followers. As the one directly responsible for the defeat, Jhaqo no longer had a place among the living. After conferring with the other Dothraki leaders, they decided that Jhaqo would be exiled from Vaes Dothrak.

The reasoning was simple: weapons and killing were forbidden in the holy city unless someone had first violated the customs and rules of the Dothraki. Jhaqo had committed no such transgression within the city, but as one of Drogo's most powerful Kos, his failure was unforgivable. Even so, Drogo felt a twinge of emptiness after ordering Jhaqo's execution.

"Can that woman truly give birth to the stallion who will mount the world for me?" Drogo asked, sitting in his tent, addressing a man with a black hood and a medium build.

This man was a priest of the Black Goat, captured by Drogo's forces after they sacked a Lamb Men town near Lazar. The Dothraki scorned the Black Goat faith, and over the years, they had looted countless statues of foreign gods. However, the priest had proved his worth with his exceptional healing skills, so Drogo kept him close. Eventually, the priest began to display what he claimed were prophetic abilities, including a prophecy about the "stallion who will mount the world," which rekindled Drogo's interest in Daenerys.

"Great Khal Drogo," the priest replied, lifting his gaze to meet Drogo's eyes. His eyes were peculiar, with square pupils like a goat's. Through those eyes, Drogo glimpsed a disturbing vision: a world where the grass had withered, and the Sea of Grass was littered with corpses. Even the Dothraki were shown resorting to cannibalism. Then, a man with purple eyes, white hair, and olive skin appeared, leading the Dothraki to find enough food to survive the calamity.

The vision faded as the priest's pupils returned to their normal round shape. "Khal Drogo, that woman is a descendant of Valyria. The blood of the Dragonlords flows through her veins. You know of the Dragonlords—they rode dragons and ruled the skies. Only such a woman can give birth to the stallion who will mount the world."

Drogo didn't entirely believe the prophecy or the vision, but he was inclined to trust most of it. On one hand, the priest had already accurately predicted several events, including Jhaqo's defeat. On the other hand, the Red Waste was spreading, and the Dothraki's food supply was dwindling day by day. The grim vision might very well become reality.

Because of this, Drogo did not put all his hopes on his upcoming battle with Viserys. He agreed to Viserys's challenge, partly because the destruction of Jhaqo's forces had caught him off guard, and he needed time. Mobilizing tens of thousands of troops was not something that could be accomplished with a single command. Viserys's challenge provided Drogo with the necessary delay to gather his strength and prepare for what was to come.

"Show me if I can win this war."

The black goat priest said with a knowing smile, "Everything in the vision will come to pass, dear Khal. Of course, you will win. If you were destined to lose, the man with silver hair and purple eyes would never have appeared in the vision," he reassured Drogo.

...

In Tyrosh, Jon Connington was greatly relieved to receive news of Viserys's victory. To celebrate, he organized the officials and citizens of Tyrosh to gather at the harbor, where they worked through the night to construct a 'triumphal arch.' Although time was short, and the arch's main structure was made of wood, Connington spared no expense in adorning it.

He ordered the craftsmen to wrap the arch in gold leaf, silk, and even inlaid it with precious stones and ivory, making it appear magnificent. To further enhance its grandeur, he placed two dragon statues on either side.

"Father, when did that gate appear?" a child asked from his mother's arms.

"That is the Triumphal Arch that Lord Griff built to welcome Prince Viserys! This time, Viserys defeated the Dothraki army, and they will never dare invade us again," the father replied with admiration. Though Viserys was not yet a king, it was reassuring to have a leader who could fight and win.

"Father, when I grow up, I want to fight alongside Prince Viserys!" the child exclaimed, wriggling excitedly in his mother's arms.

But before the father could respond, the child's mother interrupted, "What fight?" She rolled her eyes and gave her husband a stern look. As a mother, she knew all too well that war meant death, and she didn't want to lose her only child to the battlefield.

...

Meanwhile, among the crowd near the military port, a few outsiders stood out. Among them were two individuals who looked almost identical, likely brothers, with curly brown hair and sharp eyes. They were 'Garse' and 'Garrett,' sent by House Tyrell to make contact with Viserys.

"They only defeated some Dothraki. Why is there such a big fuss?" Garse remarked dismissively. To him, the Dothraki were no different from the savages of the Red Mountains or the Mountains of the Moon. Defeating them didn't seem like much of an achievement.

"But look at how excited these people are; they support him wholeheartedly," Garrett observed, gesturing toward the jubilant civilians. He then reminded his brother, "Father told us to meet with this Viserys. Be careful with your manners."

The news of Viserys's victory had spread quickly throughout Tyrosh and even reached the other Free Cities. The triumph had captured the imagination of the people, further solidifying Viserys's reputation and support.

...

To celebrate the victory, Viserys instructed Jon Connington to organize a grand victory parade, knowing it would boost the morale and fighting spirit of his army. Having once lived the life of a sellsword, Viserys had always envied the regular soldiers who fought for their country. While the sellsword's life offered more freedom, he had always admired those soldiers who, after a victorious battle, returned home to be embraced by their families and neighbors. Unlike the cold reward of a payment, these soldiers found true meaning in their fight.

As Viserys stood aboard the warship, he could clearly sense the shift in his soldiers' spirits. Seeing the excitement on the shore, even these battle-hardened, bloodthirsty men displayed a mix of eagerness and shyness. The sight of the cheering crowds was a new and welcome experience for them.

Viserys's resounding victory had significantly bolstered the morale of Tyrosh's soldiers and citizens. He had even arranged for the envoys in the palace to witness the event firsthand. His triumph over the Dothraki, achieved at minimal cost, was undeniable. The envoys quickly dispatched news of the victory to Myr and Lys, confirming the outcome.

With this verified report, the leaders of Myr and Lys would be less inclined to consider compromise with the Dothraki. Instead, they would likely come to Tyrosh to discuss preparations for a larger-scale conflict.

Chapter 217: The Alliance Against Viserys

Half a month ago, Tyrosh's harbor was transformed into a scene of both horror and triumph. Thirty towering pyramids made of human heads lined both sides of the main road, each nearly three meters high. Merchants and pedestrians passing by were initially terrified, but when they learned that these gruesome displays were made from the heads of defeated Dothraki, they felt a profound sense of security.

"Now we don't have to worry about the Dothraki raiding our caravans anymore. Lord Viserys is a good Archon," remarked a blond merchant as he gazed at the pyramids.

"Yes, Viserys is practically a patron saint of merchants. It's said that he wiped out the infamous pirate leaders in the Disputed Lands shortly after he arrived, and now he's defeated the Dothraki!" another merchant chimed in.

"Hey, how many times do I have to tell you? Viserys is not an Archon, he's a Regent!" corrected a third.

The harbor buzzed with merchants praising Viserys's deeds, but there were also murmurs of doubt.

"I don't think it's that simple. The Dothraki will retaliate sooner or later," one merchant warned. Those who frequently traveled across the Great Grass Sea knew the true power of the Dothraki, particularly of Khal Drogo, who was now the most formidable Khal in history. To them, the war between Viserys and the Dothraki was far from over, and the Great Grass Sea remained a dangerous place.

"So the war isn't over yet?" the blond merchant asked.

"Of course not. Can't you see the ships from Myr and even Pentos in the harbor? Those are the ships of noble lords, here to see Prince Viserys. They're here to discuss the next phase of the war with the Dothraki!"

"Make way! Make way!" Suddenly, the merchants heard the shouts of a coachman behind them. They turned to see a procession of magnificent carriages entering the city, causing everyone to step aside.

"That's the carriage of House Rogare," one of the merchants recognized the lead carriage. Since Feles Rogare had gradually taken control of the military and become Lys's top noble, he had redesigned his family crest to feature a dragon atop a crescent moon.

Behind the Rogare carriage followed the carriage of Tregar Ormollen, another influential member of the "Confederation Council." Inside one of the carriages, Shinelli peered out the window, her face turning pale at the sight of the grisly pyramids.

"So many heads! How many enemies has Prince Viserys slain?" Shinelli muttered in shock.

"Looks like there are six or seven thousand, maybe even ten thousand," Feles estimated, judging by the height of the pyramids.

Viserys had been strategic in constructing these mounds—he had ordered the craftsmen to create a tapered, elongated base and then use a special adhesive to 'inlay' the Dothraki heads. This clever trick made it appear as though an enormous number of enemies had been killed, amplifying the visual impact and making the scene even more imposing.

"So, the Prince plans to declare war on the Dothraki?" Shinelli asked.

Feles sighed deeply. "Of course. If the Prince intends to reclaim the Iron Throne, he needs a secure and stable base. The Dothraki stand in his way."

Feles gazed toward the Tyrosh Palace, his thoughts drifting. He had an unshakable sense that nothing could impede Viserys's path. Neither House Fregar of Braavos, nor the Company of the Cat, nor the pirates, nor Kambron, nor even the Dothraki would be able to stop him.

Initially, Feles had thought Viserys would need at least two or three years to consolidate his power after capturing Tyrosh. However, Viserys had drastically accelerated the process with his invention of the cigarette. While inexpensive, cigarettes had become a hard currency as valuable as gold. When Feles recruited alchemists for Viserys, all he had to mention was that cigarettes would be provided, and they flocked to him—some even coming from the alchemy guild in King's Landing.

'Viserys always finds a way,' had become one of Feles's guiding principles. As time passed, it became clear that Viserys had risen to be the most powerful figure in the Nine Free Cities. His influence stretched across Tyrosh, Pentos, and Lys.

This was especially evident after Viserys appointed Jorah Mormont as the head of the Windblown's branch in Lys. Tregar Ormollen felt the shift in power acutely. His concubine, Lynesse, began treating him coldly and frequently met with Jorah, as if rekindling their past relationship. Though Tregar dared not express his frustrations publicly, he quietly began plotting to diminish Viserys's influence.

In secret, Tregar contacted the Golden Company, whose business in the Disputed Lands had suffered, and began forming an alliance with Myr to oppose Viserys. On his opulent private ship, Tregar dismissed all the servants, leaving only himself and two others. One was Cassius of Myr, who had played a key role in the siege of Tyrosh on Myr's behalf. Cassius, adhering to the principle of "use it as much as you like," had since taken charge of all matters related to Tyrosh.

The other was Harry Strickland, a captain-general of the Golden Company. Strickland hardly looked like a warrior—his round head, large ears, and sparse hair gave him more the appearance of a bureaucrat than a battle-hardened commander.

As a financial officer, he was known for his cautious approach to warfare, always calculating the perfect moment to engage. Even in the original story, Jon Connington had little respect for Strickland, especially when he backed down upon realizing he might face Viserys. If not for the substantial rewards offered by Tregar and Cassius, Strickland likely wouldn't have involved himself in this conflict at all.

"Now that Viserys has defeated Drogo's most powerful Ko and is poised to start a war with the Dothraki, he'll undoubtedly look to consolidate his power even further. This means we'll likely have to relinquish a significant portion of our military strength, and perhaps even more authority. If we want to maintain our current position, we must stop him from going to war with the Dothraki," Tregar observed, pinpointing Viserys's strategy with precision.

But Viserys's impact on the region extended far beyond military matters. "He's already damaged Myr's interests without even going to war," Cassius added. Myr, the central hub for the slave trade in the Disputed Lands, was feeling the effects of Viserys's policies. By introducing a slave tax in Tyrosh, Viserys had increased the cost of using slaves, forcing Tyroshi slave owners to hire free men instead. This shift had significantly reduced the demand for slaves in Tyrosh.

The desire to overthrow Viserys was strong among those who had suffered under his policies, but that ambition remained a distant dream. The harbor of Tyrosh still displayed thousands of bloody heads—a grim reminder of Viserys's unassailable rule.

As for the Golden Company, they were hit particularly hard. The existence of Viserys's Confederation had slashed their business in half. Mercenary groups, large and small, had been forced to close their operations in Tyrosh. Not only was there no new 'business,' but they were also losing personnel. Veterans who once would have joined mercenary groups were now lured away by the Windblown, who offered generous compensation. Even some members of the Golden Company, whose contracts had expired, opted to join the Windblown instead.

This exodus of talent didn't affect just the Golden Company; nearly half of the mercenary leaders across Essos were cursing Viserys in private. But when they saw the severed heads on display in the harbor, they all chose to keep their grievances to themselves. Mercenary groups wouldn't start a conflict with such a formidable force without a compelling reason, particularly one as fiercely capable as Viserys's.

A consensus quickly emerged among them: under no circumstances should Viserys and the Horselord be allowed to fight. If Viserys won, he would claim the lion's share of the spoils; if he lost, they would all suffer the consequences.

"Didn't Drogo express interest in marrying his sister? We could offer him a generous dowry and remove the Horselord as a threat," Cassius suggested.

"But you know how the Targaryens are. They marry their own siblings—probably to keep their bloodline pure," Tregar countered.

"We should at least try," Strickland interjected. "Viserys is fixated on reclaiming the Iron Throne, right? Which is more important to him: the Iron Throne or his sister?"

The two men exchanged glances, their expressions showing tentative agreement. Tregar and Cassius hoped to defuse the looming Dothraki invasion through diplomacy, believing it could give them leverage over Viserys and prepare them for the day when they could remove his influence entirely. Viserys, however, sought to use war to eliminate the Dothraki threat once and for all, further consolidating the power of his Confederation.

"Perhaps you should consider an alliance with the Dothraki?" Strickland suggested, his voice tinged with malice. "You could approach the Horselord personally, signaling that you have no desire to participate in the war. After all, it's commonly said that 'a good day is a day without Viserys.'"

The Golden Company was indeed interested in weakening or even toppling Viserys, fully aware of the origins of the derisive title "The Beggar King." They knew that if Viserys became strong enough, he might turn his wrath on them. Therefore, they had no intention of seeing him rise to power unchallenged.

However, all their schemes and bravado evaporated the moment Tregar, Cassius, and Strickland disembarked and saw the grisly spectacle Viserys had ordered to be constructed. The sight of the towering human-headed pyramids, each three meters high, left them speechless. Tregar, who had little experience in war, was visibly shaken, while even the battle-hardened Strickland turned pale. The sheer visual impact of the scene far exceeded anything they'd heard in reports—it was as if they could smell the stench of decay from the Dothraki heads, though in reality, they had been salted to prevent any odor.

...

In a room within the Tyrosh palace, a servant helped Viserys and Daenerys prepare for their audience. Dany, through her owl, surveyed the palace from above, her thoughts drifting back to two and a half years ago. She remembered the nervousness she had felt when she first laid eyes on the magnificent Sealord's Palace.

Back then, Viserys and Dany had been just two among many nobles waiting for an audience with Sealord Ferrego. Now, an entire hall of dignitaries awaited their arrival. The drastic change in their circumstances made it all feel like a dream. But before the official meeting, Viserys needed to see Feles and the others.

Chapter 218: Dragon Alliance

At this moment, in a secondary hall not far from the Throne Hall, a gathering of what could be called Viserys inner circle was taking place.

Among those present were Connington and his son, Feles and his sister, Hoyt, Dick, Meris, and Spider Webber, who led the Tyrosh branch of the Windriders as Viserys' deputy. Caggo commanded the Tyrosh cavalry, while the black Gerrold and red-backed Gerrold oversaw the Dragonfire Fortress. Jorah led the Lys division of the Windblown Army.

Unbeknownst to them, Viserys's power had already begun to grow. Bit by bit, he and Dany had risen from a small courtyard that could have been easily broken into to their current status as rulers of the Disputed Lands.

In this hall, however, there was a woman most were unfamiliar with, yet her beauty bordered on the flirtatious—Shiera Seastar. Apart from Feles, who had met her twice, no one else knew her. Shiera seemed uninterested in making friends, sitting quietly in the corner with a large book in her hands, accompanied by a maid.

"Right now, Tyrosh has a combined force of about 20,000 men, and if you add the Windblown to that, it's just over 30,000. If it were me, I definitely wouldn't go to war with those Dothraki," said Dick, who was engaged in a discussion with Jorah.

"Yeah, even if there are 30,000 cavalry, with the advantage of weapons, they might be able to defeat the Dothraki," Young Connington agreed.

Everyone present understood Viserys's strategic intent—to defeat the Dothraki, become the master of the Kingdom of the Four Daughters, and clear the path for reclaiming the Iron Throne. However, of the 30,000 men, less than 5,000 were cavalry. If they were to fight the Dothraki, the infantry and archers would play a very limited role.

This is not to say that the infantry and archers were ineffective, but after the Dothraki suffered in Qohor, their combat style had evolved. They would run if they couldn't win, easily outmaneuvering infantry with poor mobility. One had to understand that apart from Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki had no worthwhile targets.

The city itself was completely barren; you couldn't simply march your army there and expect them to graze on grass. The distance from Tyrosh to Vaes Dothrak was immense—almost equivalent to marching from House Martell's Dorne to House Frey's Riverrun. The supply line alone would be enough to break anyone. Only cavalry could make a difference in such a battle.

To claim that anyone could defeat the Horselord's 50,000 cavalry with less than 5,000 was more than optimistic. But there was another variable on everyone's mind: Viserys. They believed he might have a clever strategy.

With this in mind, the officers began to point and gesture at the map, searching for a way to defeat the Horselord.

Just then, Regis rushed in and solemnly announced to the group, "Prince Viserys is here."

Upon hearing this, the officers quickly straightened their clothes, trying to look more composed and alert. A few of the younger officers, in particular, appeared nervous. They were all exceptional individuals, handpicked by Viserys from among the slaves. Due to their youth and outstanding performance, they had been allowed to attend this meeting, though only as observers, without the right to speak.

One of them was Milen, who had originally followed Viserys as a mine slave and had participated in the successful uprising at the palace.

After being granted the status of a free citizen, he chose to join Viserys's army directly. Another was Dyman, a tall young man. Although his individual military training was only average, his intelligence had set him apart. He had quickly risen through the ranks and was now leading a hundred soldiers after passing the recruitment requirements.

In addition to these two, there were five other young men, all around 18 or 19 years old, with similar backgrounds.

Soon, Viserys entered the hall with Dany, and everyone bowed to them.

"Prince."

The voices of the crowd blended together, expressing their readiness to serve at his command. Everyone except Shiera bowed, but Viserys didn't seem to mind. After all, who could blame him for showing deference to someone of her status?

Viserys took his seat at the head of the table, signaling for everyone to sit and begin the discussion.

"Commander, how many cavalry does Pentos have now?" Viserys asked, addressing Hoyt by his former title, even though Hoyt was now the Prince of Pentos.

Hoyt responded with a hint of helplessness, "There are less than a thousand, and only 300 of them have been trained for less than three months."

Viserys nodded in understanding. It takes several months to a year to train a competent cavalryman, and achieving proficiency in both archery and horsemanship would take two to three years, if not three to five. In other words, Pentos could currently provide only 500 to 600 fully trained cavalrymen. Combined with the fewer than 4,000 cavalry under his own command, Viserys knew the numbers were still insufficient.

Turning his gaze to Feles and Jorah, Viserys asked, "How many cavalry does the Lys division of the Windblown regiment have?"

Jorah spoke up first. "Prince, the Lys division only has 200 cavalry."

Most of the Windblown regiment's cavalry had been assigned to Viserys's command to secure the Two Lakes region, leaving the division in Lys with a much smaller force.

Feles then spoke up, "Prince, Lys has only about 800 cavalry, and these troops can only be mobilized with the consent of the Magister's Council—meaning Tregar and the others must agree."

Connington busied himself calculating the troop shortfall and the supplies that would be needed. As for the others, they were simply waiting for the command to either "fight" or "hold back."

According to Viserys's intelligence, Myr had 2,000 cavalry. If he could persuade Tregar and Myr to go to war with the Horselord, he would have 7,000 to 8,000 cavalry under his command. By recruiting some Sellswords, he could bring his cavalry force up to nearly 10,000, giving him a strong chance to defeat—or even capture—the Horselord.

Nomads like the Dothraki excelled at frequent, small-scale skirmishes. Unlike larger societies that supported miners and craftsmen, the Dothraki didn't have to sustain a large population of laborers. Out of 10,000 people, only 3,000 could be mobilized for battle, but with the Dothraki's total numbers reaching around 400,000, an 8% mobilization rate would be terrifying even in the industrial age.

In the best-case scenario, Viserys could defeat Drogo in a decisive battle. In an even better scenario, if Drogo trusted in his martial prowess, Viserys might have the chance to personally best this "threshold of the world's mightiest" as proclaimed by the Ser Barristan Selmy and George R. R. Martin.

Should that happen, the Dothraki would likely fracture, and Viserys would rise as a powerful figure capable of leading the Dothraki, turning their energies inward and away from the West.

However, Viserys had a nagging feeling that the Horselord wouldn't play into his hands so easily. To prepare for the worst, he knew he had to convince the nobles of Myr and Lys to commit to a full-scale war against the Horselord.

Viserys then signaled for the young officers who had been listening to leave the hall, retaining only the core members. He pointed in the direction of Shiera and said, "Allow me to introduce you. This is Shiera Seastar, daughter of Aegon IV."

The remaining attendees were well-informed and familiar with Aegon IV and his noble bastards. However, Viserys's words were hard to believe. How could someone from over a hundred years ago still be alive—and look so young?

Connington and Feles exchanged uneasy glances, their thoughts filled with disbelief. Feles, in particular, had harbored some romantic fantasies about this 'beautiful woman with mismatched eyes,' but the realization that she had lived for over a century sent shivers down his spine. The others, too, quickly abandoned any inappropriate thoughts.

Shiera, however, seemed entirely unaffected by their stares. To her, they were all just children.

Shiera stood up and addressed the group, "Prince Viserys has asked me to remind you of something important."

The room fell silent as everyone listened intently to the "ancient being" that Viserys had vouched for.

"You've all seen the red comet. It heralds not only the return of magic but also the appearance of the savior." Shiera's gaze flicked to Viserys and Dany. The significance of her words was not lost on the sharp minds present.

"Who is the savior?" Regis blurted out, but Shiera chose to ignore his question.

"What I want to tell you is that the Long Night is real, and so are the White Walkers. Both are clearly documented in the legends passed down through the ages and in the ancient books of Valyria. However, not everyone will choose to follow the savior. Since you've made your choice, you must also be prepared to face death at the hands of the minions of darkness."

A chill ran down everyone's spine at her words. Savior? Minions of darkness?

"I will now pass on the magic I have mastered to each of you. You must strive to gain a certain level of proficiency within six months to a year," Shiera continued, her tone cold and detached. Her manner was as enigmatic as her words; explanations were not something she felt inclined to offer.

Connington's mind drifted to the old legends of the Targaryen court, particularly those about Shiera's mother, Serenei of Lys. Aegon IV had called her 'sweet Serenei,' but to others, she had always seemed distant and aloof. Now, seeing Shiera, Connington could clearly see the resemblance—the same cold, otherworldly air.

Then, with a sharp, decisive tone, Shiera delivered even more startling news: "Viserys and Daenerys will soon hatch dragons..."

The revelation hit everyone like a thunderclap. The very thought of a dragon being born again left their minds reeling.

Viserys had known for over half a month that he had been identified by Benerro as the "reincarnation of Nissa Nissa." He had planned to spend more than three months gathering the necessary strength and resources to hatch a dragon. With just over two months left, this announcement was a calculated move to solidify his army's loyalty before the impending battle.

"Alright, everyone, proceed to the Throne Hall," Viserys instructed, rising from his seat. "And remember, this information is to remain strictly confidential. In less than six months, dragons will return to this world!"

Chapter 219: Whence Comes the Offering

Compared to the last time Jhaqo was received, the number of attendees in the Throne Hall had more than doubled—from fewer than fifty to over a hundred. The Unsullied guards patrolled every corner of the palace with precision, like well-oiled cogs in a machine, ensuring absolute security within its walls.

Anyone who had visited the palace before could see the changes. Though the palace was no longer as ornate or varied as it once had been, it now exuded a simple yet grand atmosphere. This was especially evident when they entered the Throne Room, where seventeen three-headed dragon banners, each over four meters long, hung proudly, stirring memories in all who saw them.

The Targaryens had returned.

The predominantly black banners made the Throne Room even more solemn. 'The three-headed dragon banners will surely fly over King's Landing again,' Feles thought to himself. With the impending hatching of the dragons, his confidence in the counterattack on Westeros even surpassed that of even Viserys.

The sight shook Shinelli slightly, and Hoyt and the others, who had been away from Tyrosh for some time, felt a similar stirring. The members of the "Dragon Party" now understood one thing clearly: once they defeated the Horselord, no one would be able to stop Viserys.

However, not everyone shared this optimism. Tregar, and Cassius saw things differently. To them, the watch and the three-headed dragon banners were mere displays of Viserys's military might, and they were determined to prevent him from going to war with the Dothraki.

The Throne Room was now divided into three factions: the Dragon Party members, the Myrish nobles who opposed the war with the Dothraki, and the remaining nobles, who held no strong opinions and made up nearly half of the crowd. Some of these nobles were only noble by birth and had seen more of the world, but that didn't necessarily mean they had the ability to lead it. However, they were born social butterflies; even in unfamiliar surroundings or among those from different Free Cities, they could quickly form groups and engage in conversation.

As the room buzzed with quiet chatter, many praised Viserys's watchtower. Some young nobles even saw him as a role model.

"Look at how magnificent those pillars adorned with human heads are! It's time to show those Dothraki some respect!"

"I wish I could have gone with you, Prince, to fight the Dothraki!"

"Come on, you? You'd just slow the Prince Regent down."

The young were always optimistic, but among the more experienced nobles and officials, a vague sense of worry lingered. Darsent was a prime example. Despite the sight of over 3,000 human heads displayed before him, he still lacked the courage to support going to war with the Dothraki.

"The Horselord commands an army of 50,000. Even if 3,000 fall, that still leaves over 40,000—an all-cavalry force. Once these Dothraki riders disappear into the Grass Sea, they'll vanish like marmots, impossible to catch!" Darsent grumbled, his frustration evident.

For a man who had built his fortune with a sword, admitting fear of battle was a deep humiliation. After his previous embarrassment in front of his Windblown comrades, he had learned to tread carefully. However, he raised a point no one could ignore—the Dothraki's unmatched mobility.

Even when combined, the cavalry forces of the four major Free Cities barely numbered 10,000. While they might hold their own in a direct confrontation thanks to superior equipment, in open terrain, they stood little chance against the Dothraki. Furthermore, the lack of unified command among the Free Cities' forces was a glaring and potentially fatal flaw.

"But now we have no choice but to fight," one officer muttered. "That Drogo claims to be the strongest Khal, and after losing 3,000 men, he won't let it rest."

"That's not necessarily true," Tregar interjected, catching the attention of those who were reluctant to fight.

"As far as I know, Khal Drogo's primary aim was to form an alliance with Prince Viserys, the Regent, but he was rejected..." Tregar's words subtly shifted the blame for the conflict onto Viserys, a cunning move that did not go unnoticed by the members of the Dragon Party.

"So what do you propose, my lord?" asked Young Connington, the youngest member of the Dragon Party, unable to hold back his curiosity.

"Of course, my concern is for the well-being of the Confederation. If war breaks out, countless civilians and soldiers will perish." Tregar's response was measured, but it carried a weight that resonated with some in the room.

Young Connington wanted to argue further, but he quickly realized his oratory skills were no match for Tregar's.

Tregar pressed on, "My friends, if we can avoid war by paying a small price, it's a price worth paying to spare so many from the horrors of battle. On the other hand, if we insist on dragging civilians into a conflict, it will lead to disaster."

His words began to sway some of the centrists in the room. Even Young Connington felt himself being swayed, though a nagging feeling told him something was off.

Just then, a voice echoed through the hall, announcing the arrival of Viserys and Dany: "The Lord of the Confederation, Regent Prince Viserys, Prince of the Andals and the First Men, and Daenerys, Princess of Essos, have arrived."

Viserys and Dany walked past a crowd of nobles, military officers, and officials, flanked by their entourage. The crowd parted to make way for them, all eyes drawn to the regal pair. They were both dressed in black robes adorned with a red three-headed dragon on the back. But it wasn't just their striking appearance that captured everyone's attention; it was the confidence they exuded—the unmistakable aura of those who wield power.

Even those who had seen Viserys recently couldn't help but stare, their presence commanding respect and admiration.

Taking his place on the throne, Viserys surveyed the room from the highest seat. His voice, deep and authoritative, resonated through the hall: "As you all know, there was a minor conflict between Tyrosh and the Dothraki a few days ago. According to the rules of the Confederation, the four major cities must unite to address the threat posed by the Dothraki. I invite you to share your opinions."

Feles was the first to stand. "Prince, I believe we should organize an army and work together to confront the Dothraki invasion!" he declared.

Tregar couldn't suppress a sneer. To him, Feles's stance was nothing short of betrayal. Given the opportunity, he would find a way to remove Feles from Lys's power structure. "The Dothraki have plagued Pentos for years. We pay them a fortune every year—more than enough to fund a war!" Hoyt added, clearly aligning himself with Viserys.

But soon, dissenting voices emerged. Tregar exchanged a glance with Cassius before speaking. "Prince Viserys," he began, using Viserys's title to subtly imply equality, "I believe the Confederation, in its current state, is not equipped to go to war with the Dothraki."

Tregar knew he was on Viserys's turf and chose his words carefully. Rather than openly proposing a marriage alliance with Dany or offering a substantial dowry, he reiterated the concerns he had previously voiced to Young Connington.

"Have you considered the plight of the smallfolk?" Tregar continued, his voice laden with concern. "The Dothraki horses move like the wind. A farmer working in his field could be suddenly abducted or slaughtered by Dothraki raiders. A peaceful village could be burned to the ground overnight. An intact family could be torn apart in the blink of an eye. Have you thought about all this?"

As Lys's "Merchant Prince," Tregar was a master of rhetoric, and he delivered his speech with practiced finesse. But his words failed to sway Viserys, who met his gaze with calm resolve.

"Are you finished? Isn't it my turn to speak?" Viserys asked coolly, locking eyes with Tregar.

Seeing that Viserys remained unconvinced, a flicker of irritation crossed Tregar's face, though he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Lord Ormollen, now that you've spoken, please allow me to present my reasoning," Viserys began, gesturing for a servant to bring forth a tray bearing the bloodstained shoe that Selin had sent.

"Peace through struggle leads to peace; peace through compromise leads to death," Viserys declared, his voice resonating through the hall.

"I ask you, where have the gifts to Drogo come from all these years? From the nobles and coffers of the Free Cities? And where does that money ultimately come from? The smallfolk!"

He paused, letting his words sink in. "What our nobles have been sending isn't just gold or trinkets; it's the sweat and blood of the vendors in our streets and the farmers in the fields. It's the lifeblood of our people!"

Viserys's passionate speech struck a chord with many in the room. Even though most of them viewed the smallfolk as resources—no different from mineral deposits or herds to be managed—the accepted rhetoric was that nobles must protect and fight for the smallfolk.

Moreover, Viserys's point about "the fat of the land and the wealth of the people" resonated deeply. The idea of endlessly compromising with the Dothraki, bribing them to avoid conflict, was starting to feel like cowardice to many.

"This is too risky!" Tregar protested, unwilling to give up. "Do you have any idea how vast the Grass Sea is? Once the Dothraki retreat into it, they're like fish in the ocean—impossible to catch! No Free City can afford the cost of a prolonged expedition!"

Tregar's resistance was evident, but before he could continue, an envoy emerged from behind the throne and whispered something into Viserys's ear.

Viserys turned to the assembled group with a calm but authoritative tone. "My friends, the Horselord's envoy has returned."

Chapter 220: Horselord’s Challenge

When Cohollo entered the Throne Hall, his reaction mirrored Jhaqo's initial awe. The sight of the three-headed dragon banners hanging from the walls, alongside the various statues of gods, was far more impressive than any hall he had ever seen. Cohollo's eyes were drawn to two bronze horses rearing among the statues, almost like smaller versions of the grand bronze steeds that flanked Viserys Targaryen. The sheer magnificence of the decorations made Cohollo feel as though an invisible weight had settled on him, causing even his footsteps to become lighter.

The stares from the surrounding nobles added to the pressure he felt, but the knowledge that he was representing Khal Drogo made him square his shoulders and stand tall.

"Prince Viserys, I am Cohollo, Bloodrider of Khal Drogo," he announced.

The powerful figures in the room were well-versed in Dothraki customs. They not only knew what a Bloodrider was but some even recognized Cohollo personally. Tregar, for instance, understood that Cohollo's presence meant important news was at hand. Given that Viserys had recently decimated thousands of Dothraki, Tregar suspected the envoy might be there to declare war. Tyrosh's officers, on the other hand, eyed Cohollo with a mix of anticipation and excitement. Those who had fought alongside Viserys in annihilating Jhaqo had been rewarded handsomely, and the Dothraki had gone from being a feared menace to walking treasures and jesters.

As Cohollo bowed before him, Viserys spoke, "Lord Cohollo, I wonder how Khal Drogo has considered my proposal. Will he accept my challenge?"

All eyes turned to Cohollo, waiting expectantly for his response. For men like Tregar, Cassius, and even Kambron, Viserys's challenge would be advantageous no matter the outcome. If Viserys lost, they would be rid of a formidable opponent, and Lys and Myr would be spared the threat of war. The slave owners of Tyrosh could return to their old lives of indulgence. If Viserys won, they would no longer have to pay tribute to the Horselord, and business could continue as usual.

However, Cohollo's response was not what they had hoped for. "Khal Drogo will select some of his Dothraki warriors to face your men. If we win, the Prince will agree to Khal Drogo's marriage proposal to your sister. If we lose, the Dothraki will never cross the Rhoyne."

Viserys glanced at Dany, seated before him. Her displeasure was evident, as she barely concealed her disdain, refusing even to look at the Dothraki. Drogo's counterproposal had also disrupted Viserys's plan to face the Horselord in single combat, leading him to reassess the "barbarian chieftain's" cunning.

Viserys let out a cold laugh and addressed the dignitaries and envoys below, "So, they say Khal Drogo is the most powerful Khal who ever lived. Yet, after I've slain thousands of his people, he lacks the courage to take revenge on me. Instead, he sends his warriors to die in his place. It seems the Dothraki are all bluster when it comes to boasting."

Viserys knew that the most effective way to undermine someone was to mock them openly in their presence, then amplify the insult by addressing others around them. The impact of such humiliation increased exponentially.

The hall erupted in merciless laughter at his taunt, and the look of scorn on the faces around him made Cohollo's face flush from pale to crimson. Rage surged within him, as if he were being watched by a crowd while wallowing in mud. As Drogo's "blood of my blood," he couldn't allow his Khal to be ridiculed so easily.

"Hmph! Our Khal is the strongest warrior among the Dothraki. In a fair fight, no one can defeat him. But everyone knows you, Prince, are a sorcerer. The great Khal Drogo cannot fall to vile magic!"

Cohollo's retort drew a few more chuckles, though some found the truth in his words unsettling. Kambron, in particular, recalled the scene in the bell tower where Viserys had seemingly conjured a thick cloud of smoke from nowhere. Rumors even suggested that Viserys could control fire—rumors that were not entirely baseless.

Viserys himself had to suppress a smirk. He had nearly overlooked this aspect. The Horselord was not just a barbarian chieftain; in the original timeline, he was a shrewd politician with real cunning, outmaneuvering even the nobles of Westeros, who were often mired in chaos. Drogo's handling of Viserys in the original story had been a calculated move—provoking him in the Dothraki's holy city, forcing him to lose his temper and draw his sword, and then using that as a justification to eliminate him. It was a brilliant strategy, far beyond what some of the lords of Westeros could muster.

Fortunately, Viserys hadn't pinned all his hopes on this move. The key was still to secure the support of the other Free Cities in the war against the Dothraki. By defeating the Dothraki's forces, he could eliminate the threat from the Great Grass Sea, ensuring a stable rear as he prepared to launch his counterattack on Westeros.

However, what Cohollo said next nearly made Viserys want to commend the Horselord for his cunning once again.

"Khal Drogo said that he will challenge you to a contest of archery, and he will send other warriors to compete in martial arts and horse battles."

Drogo, it seemed, had reasoned that poison or sorcery required close proximity to be effective. Archery, however, allowed him to maintain a safe distance, minimizing the risk. As a Khal, Drogo was confident in his skills with a bow, which would not only showcase his strength but also rally his warriors. It was a strategic move that appeared to be a win-win situation.

Yet in Caggo's mind, Drogo had miscalculated. Drogo had not witnessed the extraordinary skill of Viserys's "Nine Arrows" technique. Had he seen it, he might have reconsidered issuing such a challenge.

Viserys, of course, had no reason to refuse. "Very well, I accept. The duel will take place at the Lhorulu River, as your Horselord requested—if that gives him some semblance of security," he replied with a mocking tone.

Cohollo remained stoic in the face of Viserys's taunts. Drogo had chosen the Lhorulu River for the duel but planned to station his army in the Golden Fields. The area was vast enough to accommodate tens of thousands of troops and offered strategic advantages. Bordered by the Lhorulu to the west and the Rhoyne to the east, it was easily defensible. The Sorrows to the south, home to the legendary "Shrouded Lord" and plagued with greyscale, provided a natural barrier.

Viserys quickly decided on his own champions for the horse battle and jousting competition. Caggo would represent him in the horse battle, while Jorah would take up the challenge of the joust. Jorah, though unpredictable at times, was unmatched in combat.

In truth, the outcome of the competition mattered little to Viserys. He had already noticed that Drogo was mobilizing his forces, clearly preparing for more than just a duel. It was evident that the Horselord had no intention of settling their conflict with a simple contest.

Chapter 221: Viserys Is a Treasure Trove

Viserys had already gained the upper hand in the debate over whether to send troops to war with the Dothraki. After all, the thousands of people in the harbor could see the looming threat for themselves. Now, Drogo had come to them. He claimed it was for a tournament, but in reality, they needed to prevent the Horselord from launching a sudden attack. The Free Cities and the Dothraki, after all, did not follow the same rules.

Viserys had proven his abilities in battle, and placing his army in command was the best option. Myr and Lys provided 10,000 and 6,000 infantry respectively, along with all their cavalry. Combined with the forces from Pentos and Tyrosh, they mustered a total of 30,000 infantry and 8,000 cavalry, all to be deployed on the west bank of the Lhorulu.

The sight of Viserys not only challenging the Dothraki but also gaining significant military power made Tregar, Cassius, and the others anxious. Military power is something difficult to relinquish, especially when almost all the slaves and commoners knew that Viserys was fighting for their interests. But there was a catch—this army was made up of slaves and commoners. By the end of it all, this force might be called the Targaryens' Army.

As for the competition with the Horselord, little more needed to be said. Although they hadn't had much direct contact with Viserys, they recognized his martial prowess. Not to mention the infamous pirate incident; he had actually won the title of champion in Braavos. If Viserys truly triumphed against the Dothraki, his reputation would only grow within the confederation. This was the last thing the powerful men of Lys and Myr wanted, as it would mean further erosion of their own power.

Kambron, in particular, had a nagging feeling that once Viserys dealt with the Horselords, he would pursue an even more aggressive policy on slavery.

"Are we just going to sit back and watch this Westerosi grow in power?" Kambron asked wearily, waiting for the others to respond. His words were carefully chosen; referring to Viserys as "this Westerosi" subtly placed him outside their group, as if a clear line had already been drawn between them.

"Perhaps we could consider the Faceless Men?" Cassius suggested. The losses Viserys had caused them were no less severe than those of a full-blown war. Hiring the Faceless Men was extremely expensive, but given the circumstances, it wasn't an unreasonable option.

Cassius' proposal made Tregar a little excited. If they were to hire the Faceless Men, they would need to pool their resources. But on second thought, it seemed like a good deal. Viserys was powerful, but he had a fatal flaw—he had no heir to carry on his legacy and no house to support him. Once he was gone, his forces would likely collapse.

Moreover, Viserys controlled the lucrative tobacco trade. According to their estimates, the profits from this alone could cover the cost of hiring the Faceless Men and still leave a surplus. And then there were the dragon eggs Viserys possessed—they had learned through secret channels that he had at least three. Without strong backing, Viserys himself was an attractive treasure trove. They just needed to hire the Faceless Men to unlock that treasure.

The few of them covertly exchanged glances, as if they had reached a consensus. Hiring the Faceless Men was their last resort. The only question remaining was when to kill Viserys.

"Why don't we wait until he's finished off the Horselord before we kill him?" Kambron suggested with a crooked smile. It seemed like a perfect plan—Viserys kills the Horselord, and then they kill Viserys, taking out two threats at once. However, the ever-practical Cassius countered, "If we wait until he defeats the Horselord, we'll have to pay an even higher price."

Even for the same target, the cost of hiring the Faceless Men fluctuates with their status. Just as in the original story, when Daenerys transitioned from Princess to Queen, the price of hiring the Faceless Men would have risen significantly. The same logic applied to Viserys. The cost to eliminate him before and after defeating the Horselord would be drastically different. They wanted to kill Viserys, but that didn't mean they were willing to empty their coffers in the process.

"But there's only a month until the competition, and it'll take us time to raise the funds," Tregar pointed out.

"We can get a loan from the Iron Bank." Kambron, now resolute in his decision, wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He could no longer tolerate the idea of someone else sitting on the throne he believed was rightfully his.

Cassius had already gone a step further. Before coming to Tyrosh, he had secretly conferred with the nobles of Myr and hired the Faceless Men. With the right payment, they could arrive in Tyrosh within ten days, ready to take Viserys' life. At that point, not only could they extract a hefty sum from Viserys' assets, but they could also capture Daenerys, dress her up for the Horselord, and secure an alliance with him. They were deluded by their ambitions, lost in a world of fantasies.

...

"It seems to me that, given your character, you should have killed Kambron a long time ago. Why did you let him live until now?" Shiera asked Viserys curiously.

"You've lived for over a hundred years; can't you see what I'm doing?" Viserys responded, intrigued by her question. Surely, someone with a century of life experience could see through his strategy. But considering Shiera's tumultuous personal history, Viserys could understand her confusion.

Shiera had always been surrounded by men, all vying for her attention, often willing to go to great lengths just to please her. She seemed to rely heavily on her beauty to get what she wanted, leaving her little time for deeper contemplation.

So, he explained it to her.

If he had killed Kambron, Tyrosh's rule would never have been as smooth. Eliminating him outright might have caused the nobles of Tyrosh to panic, making it impossible to implement many of his decrees.

They could have become desperate and resorted to extreme measures. But by sparing Kambron and allowing him to live well, he reassured the Tyroshi nobles, avoiding the quagmire of a war—unlike the situation the Mother of Dragons faced in the original story.

After hearing his explanation, Shiera nodded thoughtfully and said, "Bittersteel is nowhere near as good as you." After a brief pause, she added, "Brynden too."

Viserys didn't let the compliment swell his ego. Instead, he shifted the conversation to his "Dreamer" ability. Shiera's response was direct. The more you trust someone, the easier it is to enter their dreams. The closer they are to you, the easier it becomes.

"That's why you could enter Dany's dreams from afar," Shiera continued, "and only after arriving in Tyrosh could you access the dreams of people like Connington."

Chapter 222: Viserys Sennesta

The Golden Fields, nestled between the Lhorulu and Rhoyne Rivers, were once a fertile land on the brink of harvest. But the arrival of tens of thousands of Dothraki horsemen shattered that peace. Riding their warhorses, they trampled the crops and turned the Golden Fields into a staging ground for their invasion. To keep their presence hidden, Drogo took the civilians of the Golden Fields captive.

The Dothraki's curved swords cut through the smoke rising from the ruined fields, and in no time, the once bountiful land was transformed into a massive military camp unlike any other. Drogo had truly invested blood and treasure this time. Over 40,000 warriors under his command gathered there, ready to sweep across the Disputed Lands at his command.

In the face of this formidable Dothraki cavalry, Viserys knew he couldn't hope to replicate the legendary feat of the "3,000 Unsullied in the legendary besieging of Qohor."

The Unsullied's victory at Qohor was due to their strong defensive position within the city walls. On an open plain like this, they would have been at a severe disadvantage. Drogo had chosen his battlefield well. The flat terrain was ideal for the Dothraki, who excelled in cavalry-based warfare. Whether attacking, harassing, or retreating, they moved with the speed and precision of the wind. With only 8,000 cavalry at his disposal, Viserys faced a daunting challenge in defeating Drogo head-on in such conditions.

To claim Drogo's head, Viserys would need to catch him off guard.

As he studied the map, Viserys's gaze settled on the ruins of Charybdis near the decayed remnants of Chroyane. Once a great city of the Rhoynar, Chroyane had been destroyed in the war with the Valyrians, and the dreaded greyscale disease had originated there.

This very history made Drogo dismiss the place as a potential threat, leaving it unfortified. If Viserys could lead his troops through The Sorrows, he could deliver a devastating surprise attack—a 'knife in the back' to Drogo. Killing Drogo would throw the Dothraki into disarray, allowing Viserys to secure his position without worrying about retaliation in Westeros.

However, Viserys's bold proposal was met with unanimous opposition.

"Prince, if you choose to go through The Sorrows, not many soldiers will be willing to follow," Connington voiced his concern first. And he was right. Soldiers are willing to risk injury in battle if there is the promise of glory and generous rewards. But asking them to march through The Sorrows was asking too much. The thick grey mist that blankets the area year-round is feared, not just for its oppressive presence, but for the greyscale-infected 'Stone man' who roam within it.

Breathing in the mist could mean contracting the disease, and contact with an infected stone men almost guaranteed it. Even the pirates of the northern Rhoyne and the Volantenes of the southern Rhoyne avoided The Sorrows—it was nearly a forbidden place. Leading a large force through it could also attract the attention of the legendary "Shrouded Lord," a risk too great for many to take.

"It's said that if you can make the Shrouded Lord smile, he'll grant you a wish. Perhaps you could go in and try," Shiera suggested to Viserys, her tone was met with hostility and with immediate opposition from the others, and even Dany's gaze darkened as she looked at the woman in displeasure.

Though Targaryens were known for their immunity to most infectious diseases, not a single member of their house had ever been spared from the scourge of greyscale. Princess Maegelle, daughter of King Jaehaerys, had succumbed to the disease, a sobering reminder of its lethal power. To Jorah, Spider Webber, Dick, and the others, Viserys represented their hope of returning to Westeros. To Connington, he was the Targaryen destined to restore their dynasty to power. To Dany, he was her only hope. None of them wanted Viserys to take such a reckless risk. In their eyes, Shiera's suggestion was tantamount to pushing Viserys into the flames. If he weren't present, they might have killed her on the spot.

Their contempt deepened when they realized that the woman before them was the legendary Shiera Seastar. The revelation turned their fear into disgust, much like discovering a nest of ants in one's bed.

Even in the original stories, the Shrouded Lord was more myth than reality, and Viserys knew little about him. But seeing that Shiera seemed to have more insight, he gestured for her to continue.

"Some say the Shrouded Lord was chosen from among the 'stone men.' Others claim he was originally just a stone statue, or that he was Garin himself... But those are just tales. The truth is that the Shrouded Lord was actually Prince Garin's sister."

"Sister?" The revelation piqued everyone's curiosity—the Shrouded Lord was actually a woman! This twist was genuinely surprising.

What Shiera revealed next was also a rumor, but her 'rumors' were grounded in facts, making them far more reliable than the legends that had been distorted over a thousand years. This 'Shrouded Lord,' or rather 'Shrouded Lady,' was a genius in magic. Her name was said to be Valsha.

Valsha had attempted to combine blood magic and water magic to create a new form of sorcery. However, she failed disastrously, and the result was the greyscale disease, which plagued Chroyane. To punish her, Garin imprisoned his sister. Ironically, this imprisonment allowed her to survive the Dragonlords' dragonflame for 300 years.

In her quest for revenge against the Valyrians, the Shrouded Lady released the sealed greyscale and, in an act of total destruction, unleashed the grey mist that enveloped the entire city of Chroyane. The Valyrians gained nothing from their conquest, only ruin.

"So, the Shrouded Lady hates the Valyrians. Then, Viserys, you shouldn't go!" Hoyt said. "After all, no matter how noble a person is, they won't help the descendants of their enemies."

"You just said that as long as someone can make her smile, she will grant that person a wish. Is that true?"

"Brother..." Seeing that he still seemed unwilling to give up on going to The Sorrows, Dany was a little concerned.

Viserys gave her a reassuring look and signaled for Shiera to continue.

"I remember a young man from House Sennesta with the same name as you—Viserys Sennesta. Because his talent for magic was so poor, he secretly ran away to The Sorrows and found the Shrouded Lord, hoping that she would grant him better magical talent..."

"Did he succeed?" Viserys asked.

Shiera nodded. "Yes, but he also died..."

Chapter 223: Greyscale

This was the advantage of having a living history book like Shiera. Her way of speaking, which seemed almost designed to spark curiosity, had completely piqued everyone's interest.

"This Sennesta was indeed gifted with powerful magical talent, but he also lost his mind. It seems he was controlled and secretly killed many of his own relatives. He..."

Shiera paused, letting the tension build. "At that time, the patriarch of House Sennesta had his own dragon burn him to death to protect the rest of the family."

Everyone felt a bit unsatisfied after hearing such a secret story. Yet, in their hearts, they felt even more awe for this 'Shrouded Lady.'

Viserys suddenly realized that this 'Shrouded Lady's' magic seemed to involve some kind of trade-off. Take greyscale disease, for example—those infected gradually turn to stone, but they also gain a peculiar benefit: they no longer need to eat. Although no one desires this so-called 'benefit.'

And this Viserys of House Sennesta, after obtaining powerful magical talent, also lost his mind. Of course, it's possible she was targeting House Sennesta specifically. After all, the Valyrians once sent out 300 dragons at a time. House Sennesta, with its significant number of dragon rider, was bound to be involved.

If the Shrouded Lady agreed to the young Sennesta's request out of revenge, it makes sense that the family met their fate. After all, the Valyrians sent out 300 dragons at once, and the Sennesta family, which had one of the largest contingents of dragon riders, would definitely have participated. It also makes sense that the Shrouded Lady agreed to the young Sennesta's request out of revenge.

From Shiera's description, it seemed feasible to approach the Shrouded Lady directly. 'I just don't know what price I would have to pay to pass through,' Viserys thought.

"Since that Vise... I mean, that Sennesta, was made that way by this... Shrouded Lord, why didn't House Sennesta punish him at the time and burn Chroyane again?" Regis asked, puzzled.

Shiera didn't answer his question, but Young Connington, who was standing behind the group, spoke up:

"I think Chroyane is already in ruins. There's no point in burning it down. At most, the House can forbid its people from going to Chroyane."

Regis's question was just a minor interlude. The group still didn't think it was a good idea to travel through The Sorrows. But Viserys had already made up his mind. With the blessing of blood magic, he wasn't worried about getting infected with greyscale himself. No matter what price the Shrouded Lady demanded, or whether that price was acceptable, he had to try.

"I'm going with you," Dany said, leaning over as she saw his determination.

"Don't worry, Dany. You forgot? I'll be fine," Viserys replied, having already told her about the Blood Magic. It was just that the system panel was hard to explain.

But Dany wasn't just worried about the greyscale. It was Chroyane—the magical city second only to Valyria. Who knows what dangers lay within?

"Prince, let me go!" Young Connington, eager to impress Viserys, pleaded.

"Let me go, Prince!" he insisted again.

"I can go too!" others in the crowd chimed in, vying for the chance.

Jokingly, they thought, 'The dragons will return soon, so what if they die now? They are serving the Dragonlord!'

"Prince. please stay here. Let me go," Connington said, glancing at his son.

"Can you find the Shrouded Lord? I'll go instead," Viserys decided, ultimately choosing to take only a few Unsullied with him.

To attract as little attention as possible, Viserys set off with twelve Unsullied, along with Regis and a few others.

...

In less than five days, the group had traversed the entire Disputed Lands. Each person had three horses, and they spent most of the day traveling. By the time they reached Chroyane, many of them had chafed thighs.

Viserys decided to let the group rest for a while. He himself took control of his golden eagle to observe the area from above.

However, from the sky, all of Chroyane was shrouded in a thick gray mist. It looked like a giant gray mushroom, obscuring everything within. The occasional glimpse of a human figure made the scene even more unsettling.

"Prince, that is not normal," Regis remarked, glancing at Viserys, who was still keeping up a relentless pace alongside the others.

The rest of the group had already taken a nap, but Viserys still looked full of energy. Young Connington was genuinely impressed. It was his first time venturing out with Viserys, and though he had wanted to prove himself, he found himself being looked after instead. Now that he had rested, Young Connington resolved to demonstrate his abilities fully and not let his guard down.

"Prince! Prince!" Regis's voice suddenly echoed from the riverbank not far away.

Viserys had recently discovered one of Regis's unique 'talents'—the man could sleep standing up with his eyes open! So, the days of relentless travel hadn't exhausted him as much as the others, and he eagerly volunteered to find a boat for everyone.

But Regis, ever cautious like the rest of the group, had also equipped himself with a set of tightly wrapped silver chain mail and clothing that was said to be waterproof. His hands and feet were similarly well-covered. As the days passed, Viserys couldn't help but wonder how sour the smell inside that armor must have become.

"My lord, I found a boat, and the boatman is willing to serve you," Regis announced, pointing excitedly to the shore.

There, a small boat about ten meters long awaited them, with two cabins that could barely accommodate the group. The boat's weathered hull bore the marks of many years of service, and the boatman aboard eyed Viserys and the others cautiously.

The boatman, an old man in his fifties, was slightly stooped. He wore a smile of servility on his wrinkled face as he bowed to them. His clothes were bulky, likely to protect against the moisture of the Rhoyne. Beside him were two children, no older than twelve or thirteen, who peeked out from behind him, their wide eyes filled with curiosity and fear.

As Viserys and the group approached the boat, the old man hurriedly pulled his two grandchildren closer. Viserys noticed the frail appearance of the children and felt uneasy. He turned to Regis and asked, "Did you make it clear where we are going?"

"Of course, Prince," Regis assured him, patting his chest confidently. He then looked at the old boatman. "Old man, we're heading to The Sorrows. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, my lord, I do," the boatman replied.

"Are you sure you want to take your two grandsons with you?" Viserys asked, concerned.

"Don't worry, my lord. These two little ones are very clever," the old boatman replied, mistaking Viserys's concern for fear that the children might slow them down. In reality, Viserys was worried for their safety and didn't want to see the old man lose his family if anything went wrong. However, seeing the man's resolve, Viserys decided not to argue further and led the group onto the ferry.

As the boatman ferried them across the water, the ferry gradually approached the gray mist of The Sorrows.

"My goodness, those are the stone men!" Regis exclaimed, leaning over the cabin and pointing, drawing everyone's attention to where he was looking.

As the ferry drew closer, the number of shadowy figures in the mist increased. These were the unfortunate souls afflicted with greyscale. Most had stiffened limbs and faces twisted by illness, appearing more like lifeless statues than living beings. Some of the more severely affected moved with an eerie, zombie-like gait.

All of them turned their hollow eyes toward the ferry, sending a wave of unease through everyone on board. Young Connington, feeling the tension, instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"My lord, don't worry. The stone men outside the gray mist won't attack us," the old boatman reassured Viserys as he ferried them across the river.

These stone men still harbored the mistaken belief that Viserys had come to bring them food. In reality, the only ones who ever provided for them were the people from Volantis, and that happened only once every three years. Though they managed to survive, the stone men were plagued by illness and hunger day and night.

"You say the stone men outside the gray mist won't attack us, but what about the ones inside? Are they aggressive?" Viserys asked, his concern evident.

"To be honest, my lord, I've ferried on the Rhoyne for over thirty years, but I've never ventured into the gray mist," the old boatman replied cautiously. In truth, if Regis hadn't offered enough money to buy three boats like his, the old man would never have agreed to enter the mist.

Viserys recalled that Tyrion Lannister and his group had been attacked by stone men when they passed through the Heart of the Sorrows. To prepare for a similar encounter, he had taken precautions in advance.

As the ferry entered the dense gray mist, it was completely engulfed, and visibility dropped drastically. The shore was no longer visible, and even the golden eagle, which Viserys had been using as a 'drone,' could no longer serve its purpose.

But that was just the beginning of their troubles. The closer they got to The Sorrows, the more treacherous the waters became. The river was choked with moss and littered with fallen statues and broken pillars. The old boatman navigated with extreme caution.

The once wide river was now fragmented into narrow streams by the obstacles in their path. In some places, they barely avoided grazing the damaged stone carvings as they passed. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the river, trying to steer clear of the submerged statues and half-buried pillars. The old boatman and his grandsons were even more vigilant, wide-eyed with concentration. Despite the cool temperature, a fine layer of sweat had formed on the old boatman's forehead.

"By the gods!" Regis suddenly exclaimed. The group turned to see what he was pointing at and were met with the sight of a humanoid figure staring back at them.

It wasn't a statue at all, but a person suffering from Greyscale, resembling a stone figure. Somehow, this poor soul had climbed onto one of the stone statues that had fallen into the river. His clothes had decayed into rags, and his hair had long since disappeared. The entire figure looked like a dried-up specimen, haunting and pitiful.

Chapter 224: Bridge of Dream

"Prince, there's a bridge up ahead," Young Connington said, pointing to a partially collapsed stone bridge.

"There are people on that bridge! No, wait, there are even some lights on!" Regis exclaimed in surprise.

Emerging from the gray mist, the ruins of a once-magnificent bridge appeared before them. It was the legendary Bridge of Dream. Even more impressive than Volantis' Long Bridge, the Bridge of Dream was both longer and more grandiose. It soared at least 40 feet above the water, as tall as a three- or four-story building, allowing even large battleships to pass underneath with ease.

What astonished the group even more was the presence of lights on the bridge's arch. As they approached, the lights grew clearer, revealing themselves as some kind of magical creation. No wonder it was said to be a marvel of the Rhoynar civilization.

The bridge was supported by pale stone arches, but the section nearest the harbor had collapsed, leaving debris scattered all around. The boat could not approach from that side, meaning Viserys and the others would need to land on the opposite end of the Bridge of Dream and cross it to reach the Palace of Sorrow. However, the bridge was swarming with hundreds of wandering 'stone men,' which meant a confrontation was likely.

"Everyone, check your weapons!" Viserys ordered. Knowing that a clash with the stone men was inevitable, he had prepared supplies, including fire cocktails—perfect for dealing with the slow-moving stone men if they dared to attack.

He instructed the old boatman to dock the boat at the far end of the bridge. But this side of the river wasn't much easier to navigate; the other bank was a tangle of impassable rocks, while this side had a steep, hard riverbank. To make matters worse, the top of the bank was covered in moss, making it dangerously slippery and nearly impossible to climb.

The imposing ruins before them were a testament to the Rhoynar civilization in its prime. Young Connington's mind raced as he searched for a way up the steep riverbank, while Regis and the boatman were equally perplexed by the challenge.

Suddenly, an idea struck Young Connington. His eyes lit up as he pointed to a dead tree on the shore. "Prince, we can use a bow and arrow to shoot a rope up and then climb it."

"Go ahead and try," Viserys said, gesturing for him to proceed.

Encouraged by Viserys's approval, Young Connington eagerly took a length of hemp rope, tied one end to an arrow, and aimed at the dead tree. The weight of everyone's expectations added pressure, but he steadied his breath, drew back the bow, and released.

With a whoosh, the arrow shot upward, trailing the hemp rope behind it. For a moment, it seemed to fly true, but then, after barely ten meters, it lost momentum and fell short, dragging the rope down with it. The arrow made a faint mark on the riverbank before splashing into the water.

Young Connington's face flushed with embarrassment as he silently retrieved the rope from the water. Meanwhile, the others began to think of alternative solutions.

"My lord, we could build a human ladder," suggested the captain of the Unsullied who had accompanied Viserys. His idea was for the Unsullied to stand on each other's shoulders to form a makeshift 'human rope bridge.'

However, the captain hadn't fully considered the challenge. The Bridge of Dream towered three or four stories above the river, and the sloping riverbank only added to the distance. With just twelve Unsullied, even if they managed to form a human ladder, it would only allow Viserys, Regis, and Young Connington to reach the top. After that, the exhausted Unsullied would likely collapse, tumbling into the river below.

Despite their newfound status as free men, the Unsullied were still conditioned to sacrifice themselves for their master or for victory. The captain's suggestion wasn't entirely without merit, but Viserys hesitated. His eyes drifted back to the dead tree. He wondered if it could bear the weight of a person. The tree was only about as thick as an adult's calf and looked charred, as if it might snap at the slightest touch.

Just then, a group of stone men infected with greyscale appeared on the riverbank above them. A few patches of pale skin were still visible on their cheeks and necks, indicating they weren't yet fully transformed. Their movements were surprisingly quick, suggesting they still retained a considerable degree of mobility.

The stone men seemed curious about Viserys and his group. But that wasn't their true intent—they began spitting down at Viserys's boat, aiming to spread their infection.

"Damn it! You sons of bitches!" Regis cursed, pulling his cloak over his head to shield himself.

It was clear these stone men were trying to infect them with greyscale.

"Prince, be careful," Young Connington shouted, rushing forward to protect Viserys. But Viserys, with a swift motion, pulled Young Connington back behind him.

"Give me the bow," Viserys ordered Young Connington.

He took the bow, bent it, and nocked three arrows at once. With a swift release, the arrows whistled through the air, each one finding its mark in the mouths of the stone men, silencing their attempts to spit. Yet, undeterred, the stone men retreated out of range and began hacking away at the dead tree with whatever tools they had.

Bang, bang, bang.

After just a few strikes, the already charred tree toppled over. A tree that should have been able to support the weight of an adult had crumbled with surprising ease, especially considering that the stone men were wearing armor.

Viserys paused, considering his next move. He then took a short spear from the captain of the Unsullied and positioned himself at the bow, ready to throw. The others looked on, puzzled—there were no stone men left in sight, so they couldn't understand where he was aiming.

With all his strength, Viserys hurled the spear. The force was so immense that the spear's front half embedded itself deep into the riverbank. The sheer power left everyone stunned. Whether it was Regis, Young Connington, the Unsullied, or the old boatman, they no longer saw Viserys as just an ordinary man. His abilities had clearly surpassed human limits, a testament to his 125 "Constitution".

Seeing this display, the remaining stone men, who had been watching from another angle, realized they had picked the wrong target and quickly scattered.

Viserys, however, noticed that the spears lodged in the bank weren't stable enough or long enough to serve their purpose. He instructed the others to wrap strips of cloth around the spears in a spiral pattern. This adjustment would give the spears more stability and added penetrating power as they spun through the air.

He then threw about twenty more spears, each one driven into the riverbank from low to high, creating a series of handholds.

The group quickly understood Viserys's intention—he was creating a makeshift ladder. With this fulcrum, everyone could climb the steep bank more easily.

Viserys took the lead, scaling the bank by using the spears embedded in the wall. The others followed his example without hesitation, leaving only one Unsullied and the old boatman behind to guard the small sailboat.

Chapter 225: Palace of Sorrows

The crowd that had climbed ashore from the embankment advanced in battle formation, weapons in hand, across the Bridge of Dream. Viserys realized that even in this isolated part of The Sorrows, there were resources worth fighting over—like the lights on the bridge, which he found surprisingly bright. It was mainly due to the heavy fog, but upon closer inspection, the brightness of these street lamps was not inferior to the electric lights Viserys had been accustomed to in his previous life. Around these lamps, faint magical runes seemed to be at work.

Beneath the street lamps were simple tents. The owners of these tents were able to enjoy the light brought by these magical lamps to the greatest extent. As he moved forward, Viserys wondered, 'Could it be that people with grayscale disease like the light?' Setting aside this irrelevant conjecture, he focused on the task at hand.

The sound of their footsteps and the clashing of their armor soon attracted the attention of a group of natives. These stone men, marked by the lines and colors of stone on their bodies, cast wary and assessing glances. The group's armor and the cold weapons they wielded served as a strong deterrent to these people who lived on the border of death.

However, when they reached the middle of the bridge, the stone men gathered together, blocking their way. With stone men in front and behind, Viserys realized they were surrounded.

"Everyone, we just want to pass through. We won't hurt anyone," Viserys said, pounding the heavy halberd in his hand on the ground. The force of the blow caused several cracks in the stone slabs of the bridge, and everyone around him could feel the vibration beneath their feet. The stone men blocking their path instinctively took a step back.

Viserys nodded, and the group threw the extra dry food they were carrying in front of them. The stone men behind them, seeing the cloth sacks on the ground exuding the aroma of food, immediately started to loot them, while the stone men in front looked a bit disdainful. Their goal was not the food that Viserys and the others were offering, but rather their bodies.

One of the leading stone men stepped forward. For some reason, this man's petrified left hand remained raised high.

"Stay... half of you... leave... before..." The man spoke in stutters, each word seemingly forced out of his throat as if the grayscale had infected his vocal cords.

"This is impossible!" Viserys exclaimed, locking eyes with him. The leader of the stone men, the one who always held his left hand aloft, took a step back, while the other stone men, armed with spears and clubs, began to close in on Viserys and his group.

Young Connington swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his spear, but Viserys had no intention of engaging them directly. With a wave of his hand, the Unsullied behind him hurled their flaming bottles. The bottles, filled with a volatile mixture of wildfire alcohol and animal fat, shattered upon impact, dousing the stone men in flames.

Viserys snapped his fingers, and the stone men were transformed into living torches. This was unlike the usual encounters—these stone men moved sluggishly, and with their damaged vocal cords, they could not even scream properly as the flames consumed them. Only those who were not yet fully infected writhed and convulsed in the fire.

The stone man with the raised left hand turned and fled, his legs still functional. But no matter how fast he ran, he could not outrun Viserys's long halberd. The weapon pierced his chest from behind, pinning him to the ground.

Viserys glanced back at the remaining stone men. They had been watching, hoping to gain some advantage, but upon seeing the gruesome fate of their comrades, they were overcome with fear and turned to flee. They moved clumsily, some limping, creating a comically pathetic sight.

After retrieving the halberd from the fallen man, the group continued on, unafraid of infection. They soon reached the collapsed section of the Bridge of Dream. Although they had not yet passed through the rubble, the thick fog ahead revealed glimpses of their destination—the Palace of Sorrows.

Once a glorious capital, Chroyane had become a waterlogged ruin, its once-proud Topless Towers now broken and submerged. Yet, even in their dilapidated state, Viserys recognized them as the legendary Palace of Sorrows. The two Towers in Sunspear, built by Nymeria, had been modeled after these very structures.

Carefully stepping over the loose rocks, the group narrowly avoided falling and finally set foot on the grounds of the Palace of Sorrows. Everyone strained to peer through the gloom. Viserys could vaguely make out a thick grey mist in one direction, as if all the mist in the area was emanating from that one place. 'Perhaps that is where the Shrouded Lady resides,' he thought.

As they ventured deeper into the palace, they noticed the terrain rising, and the water around their feet gradually became shallower. Viserys's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual—a hand-width-wide groove on the exposed ground. 'A groove... No, these are tracks!' he realized.

Viserys crouched down and ran his hand along the two smooth, parallel lines etched into the ground, confirming his suspicion.

He dared to bet that the Rhoynar people must have had their own magical vehicles back then. As for the others, they were at a loss to understand the purpose of these tracks.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before a vehicle resembling a bus pulled up to the curb. However, instead of the boxy shape he remembered, it was more like the streamlined locomotive of a high-speed train. The vehicle was adorned with intricate reliefs of flowers, plants, fish, and insects.

Viserys closed his eyes and imagined the appearance of the festive capital in its heyday. The speeding 'magic tram' would have carried people to all kinds of destinations—parks, stadiums, libraries, and perhaps even schools and universities.

But then... Viserys thought again of the Valyrians, whose glory was built on the exploitation and oppression of other peoples. Perhaps the Rhoynar were no different.

Suddenly, Viserys realized that ever since entering The Sorrows, his attention had been drawn repeatedly to strange sights—first the Bridge of Dream, and now this.

"Prince, look, there's another bridge ahead!"

"What?" Viserys turned to look at Regis and the others, only to see that they were all slack-jawed with shock. Regis's reaction was the most unsettling of all, as he pointed at a wall and claimed he saw another Bridge of Dream.

A low, eerie sound filled the air, reverberating ominously...

Then, another disturbing event occurred. Several Unsullied burst into tears.

"No, don't cut off my penis, give it back to me!"

"Don't kill my puppy, no!"

"I'm so scared..."

Viserys's eyes narrowed. 'There's definitely something wrong with this gray mist!'

"Lord Regis, what's wrong with you, Lord Regis!" Young Connington, realizing that something was amiss, turned to Viserys in panic.

"Prince, they... they..."

Chapter 226: Last Dragons

Viserys looked at Young Connington. 'This guy also has Targaryen blood in his veins,' he thought, 'and it's probably for this reason that he's less affected.'

The two tried to wake the others, but it was useless. It seemed they could not continue. Only time would tell if taking them away from the Palace of Sorrows would make any difference. But the group had already come this far, and there was no turning back.

Viserys threw the unconscious bodies into the 'bus' and blocked the door. "Let's go first. There's no one around; they shouldn't be in danger," he said.

"Prince, what's wrong with them?"

"It's probably because of the gray mist. The two of us have Valyrian bloodlines, so we have some resistance. It could also be because we practice magic," Viserys replied casually, also to reinforce Young Connington's identity with him. 'You have Valyrian blood, but not the Kingsblood,' he mused. However, Young Connington still seemed proud of his lineage.

Viserys noticed that there didn't seem to be many tracks around. 'If that's the case, then from my experience, places where tracks pass through are usually more important,' he considered. So, the two of them followed the tracks through the grey mist.

The Palace of Sorrows was full of ruins, and they were frequently blocked by collapsed buildings. Half of a thick tower stood in front of them, with the nearest point of support from the ground about three or four meters above their heads. Looking left and right, Viserys realized that if they wanted to continue following the tracks, they would have to climb over it. 'I'll be fine, but Young Connington is in for a rough time,' he thought.

He crouched down, interlaced his fingers, and motioned for Young Connington to climb up using his knees and palms.

"Prince?" Young Connington hesitated, reluctant to accept the offer, even though he could guess Viserys' intention. After all, this was his monarch. How could he, an adviser, climb up on the monarch?

"Cut the crap, or I'll leave you here."

"No, I mean, yes..."

Seeing there was no other choice, Young Connington steeled himself and approached Viserys. When his feet touched Viserys' knees and palms, he was surprised by how solid the other man felt. 'I weigh at least 160 to 170 pounds, including armor, yet Viserys didn't even flinch,' he marveled. But then he remembered Viserys' earlier feat of driving a short spear into a stone wall, and suddenly, it didn't seem like much.

Young Connington soon made it to the top, and just as he was wondering how Viserys would manage the climb, he watched in astonishment as Viserys leaped up effortlessly, landing directly on the ledge. 'My knowledge has been refreshed once again,' he thought, marveling at Viserys' strength.

With that obstacle behind them, the path ahead was clear. To the east, they spotted a large set of ruins. Calling them "ruins" seemed almost unjust, as most of the buildings were still remarkably well-preserved. This was the core area of Chroyane, and the battle had been essentially over by the time the Valyrians attacked here.

Fog swirled around them. Viserys noticed a main hall up ahead, from which a thick column of ash-like smoke was rising—a miniature version of the Smoking Sea on the Valyrian side. Weapons in hand, the two men advanced cautiously. Along the way, they encountered numerous petrified human bodies, frozen in place for what seemed like a thousand years. It appeared that those who had been infected with grayscale were preserved, all captured in postures of terror, as if fleeing from some unimaginable presence within the smoke-filled palace.

Viserys approached one of the petrified corpses, noticing that the man was still clad in armor. He wiped the dust off with his hand, and his eyes lit up. Valyrian steel armor! There was no mistaking it. He remembered the legend of the Garin curse. After the Valyrians captured Chroyane, they imprisoned Prince Garin in a golden cage, and Garin, in turn, cast a curse that summoned the waters of the Rhoyne to drown the Valyrian invaders. After all, the Valyrians had deployed 300 dragons in that battle, so it was natural that some of them would have been from the Dragonlord's own house.

In the Age of Magic, the value of Valyrian steel armor was beyond measure. 'If we search carefully around here,' he thought, 'we could easily find a dozen, perhaps even twenty suits of Valyrian steel armor.'

But the immediate task was to meet the 'Shrouded Lady.' Viserys made a mental note of the location and continued onward with Young Connington at his side.

After walking for about half an hour, the two arrived at a large square. Scattered across the area were more petrified corpses, some still clad in armor that hadn't decayed in over a thousand years. 'Most likely Valyrian steel armor,' Viserys thought as they surveyed the scene.

The square was vast, roughly the size of five football stadiums, and at its center stood the main hall of the "Palace of Sorrow." Crossing the square, the two men approached the steps leading to the grand hall. Here, too, they found seven or eight armored bodies, likely encased in Valyrian steel.

But this wasn't entirely surprising. Back then, Valyria was still a flourishing empire, and items like Valyrian steel swords and armor were probably considered mere luxury goods. 'Still,' Viserys wondered, 'how could the Targaryen ancestors have been so low in Valyrian society that they didn't even possess a set of Valyrian steel armor?'

They continued climbing the moss-covered stone steps until they reached the main hall's door. Through the open doorway, they glimpsed the interior. Dominating the center of the hall was a massive throne. While the throne itself was unremarkable, what caught their attention were the four living dragons perched around it.

Each dragon was the size of a train car, their heads raised, mouths open, spewing thick grey mist into the open sky above the roofless palace. It became clear that the dense fog enveloping The Sorrows originated from these dragons.

"Prince," Young Connington whispered, swallowing hard. The sight was overwhelming, especially for a fourteen-year-old who had never witnessed anything like this. In fact, even Viserys, who had painstakingly gathered dragon eggs without success, was stunned. Yet here were four living dragons right before him.

As he hesitated, unsure whether to proceed, a voice suddenly echoed from the throne in the main hall.

'Crap!' Viserys thought. 'Rhoynar language—I don't understand!'

Chapter 227: The Dancing Little Man

Due to the interference of the dim light and swirling gray mist, Viserys and Young Connington hadn't noticed that someone else was sitting on the throne. Upon closer inspection, they saw a small figure slouched on the tall seat. 'That must be the Shrouded Lady, Valsha,' Viserys thought.

As far as Viserys knew, the only people who still spoke the Rhoynar language were the so-called "Greenwater Orphans" in Dorne. These people had refused to follow Nymeria to Westeros, stubbornly maintaining their Rhoynar language and way of life. 'When I was in Dorne, I didn't think to learn a foreign language,' Viserys recalled. But he did remember Shiera mentioning that a Viserys of House Sennesta had once sought out the Shrouded Lady. 'That means she should understand Valyrian,' he concluded.

Taking a deep breath, Viserys spoke aloud, "Princess Valsha, I am Viserys."

His voice echoed through the vast main hall, but the figure on the throne remained silent for a long time. Finally, the person spoke, drawing out the name slowly, as if it had triggered a long-buried memory.

"V-I-S-E-R-Y-S-"

Her voice quickened slightly as if something had clicked in her mind.

"Viserys... Viserys," she repeated, as if testing the name on her tongue.

Viserys and Young Connington stood just outside the hall, listening intently.

"You are Viserys," the Shrouded Lady finally managed to say.

Bowing slightly, Viserys replied, "My respects, Princess Valsha. I am Viserys Targaryen."

"Targaryen?" she murmured, a faint sigh escaping her lips. "Targaryen, Targaryen..."

Another wave of memories seemed to unfold within her mind. After a moment, a faint voice emerged from the throne.

"Never heard of..."

It was said that the Targaryens were relatively unknown in Valyria back then. After all, they were just one of the 40 Dragonlord houses, but why were they so unremarkable?

"Never mind, come in first."

With her permission, Viserys crossed the threshold and entered the main hall. His peripheral vision caught the sight of two curved staircases on either side of the hall, extending to the back of the throne and leading up to a 'second floor.' In front of the throne, seven petrified corpses in armor knelt, their posture suggesting that they had once been Valyrians. Some of them had likely been dragon riders.

Viserys and Young Connington approached the corpses, stopping before the throne. "Princess Valsha," Viserys said.

"Are you a Valyrian?" she asked.

"Yes," Viserys replied after a short pause. "Valyria is gone, and I am but a remnant of it."

A noise came from the throne, a sound that could have been either a snort or a response. After a long silence, the figure on the throne stood and began to walk forward. As she moved away from the shadows cast by the dragons, a mummy-like creature, about 1.6 meters tall and wrapped in bandages from head to toe, approached Viserys. It was the Shrouded Lady, Valsha.

Seeing such a strange being for the first time, Young Connington instinctively rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Viserys glanced at him and signaled for him to relax.

As Valsha drew closer, Viserys was surprised to catch the scent of grapefruit emanating from her. Her head was also wrapped in cloth, leaving only her mouth and eyes exposed. "Huh, your name is also Viserys," she remarked. "That's interesting."

When she reached them, she asked, "What is it that you want from me?"

"My noble Princess Valsha, I hope you will allow my army to pass through Chroyane," Viserys requested.

Valsha's eyes flashed with coldness. "A thousand years ago, the armies of the Valyrians came to Chroyane and destroyed my home. And now, a thousand years later, the armies of the Valyrians are coming to Chroyane again? Do they intend to destroy it once more?"

Her words were laced with deep-seated hatred. Viserys knew that saying something like, "That was a thousand years ago. What my ancestors did has nothing to do with me," would only provoke the Shrouded Lady further. In this delicate situation, it was crucial to steer the conversation in a more favorable direction.

"Princess Valsha, hundreds of years after the Valyrian invasion of Chroyane, they too suffered a catastrophic Doom and have now perished. I know this may not bring you comfort, but do you know of Nymeria?"

"She is my aunt."

Hearing this, Viserys felt a slight sense of relief - he had found a connection. "The descendants of Princess Nymeria and the people of Rhoynar live in Westeros now, but I understand the Long Night is coming. I hope to face it with them, but first I must end this war as soon as possible. That's why I've come to you, to ask for passage through Chroyane.

Viserys hoped to stir her sympathy by appealing to their shared bloodline. Perhaps recognizing his sincerity, Valsha decided not to make things difficult for him. "Since you are also Viserys, you know my condition, right?" she said with a hint of a smile.

Viserys nodded, trying to recall some amusing topics or stories, but he wasn't skilled at telling jokes. 'If only I had the Red Viper or the Imp here,' he thought, 'they could probably make her laugh.'

'Do I really have to use those old memes from the internet in my past life?' Viserys wondered, feeling torn. But he had no better option at the moment.

He held out his right hand in front of Valsha, spreading it open as if holding something invisible. Then he gave it a slight shake, and both Valsha and Young Connington watched him curiously.

"You see, there's a little person dancing on my hand," Viserys said.

Valsha sneered, "Are you trying to trick me? Where's the little person?"

Young Connington looked at him nervously, silently questioning, 'What are you doing, Prince? Why are you teasing her?'

Viserys felt his own nerves fraying, but he persisted stubbornly, "Really! There is a little person on my hand." He licked his lips and added, "Look, I want to take off his clothes."

He gently mimed lifting something off his hand with his left hand, as if undressing an invisible figure. "Can you hold his clothes for me?" he asked.

Valsha's eyes, hidden beneath her headband, flashed with suspicion, but she reached out and took the "little man's clothes" from Viserys's hand.

Young Connington, standing nearby, stared in disbelief, thinking his eyes were deceiving him.

Viserys nodded and said, "You see, now the little man is dancing naked in my hand."

Valsha looked at him with a mixture of displeasure and curiosity. "There is no little man; you're just playing a trick on me!"

"There is a little man," Viserys insisted, "his clothes are still in your hands."

Chapter 228: And… The Price?

Laughter erupted.

"Hahahaha!!!"

For a moment, Valsha was stunned, but then she began to laugh uncontrollably, as if someone had hit her funny bone. Her laughter grew louder and louder—first, she couldn't straighten her back, and soon, her whole upper body was leaning back with the force of her mirth.

"Ah-hahahahahaha!" Young Connington looked on, alarmed by the sight of the thousand-year-old creature before him. Her voice, which had just moments ago been as delicate as a maiden's, suddenly turned shrill, almost like a rooster's crow.

Valsha's laughter made Viserys think of a bride who bursts out laughing at her wedding because of a humorous slip of the tongue by the groom. It seemed as if Valsha hadn't laughed in centuries, and now she was making up for lost time. Perhaps she was simply someone with an unusually low threshold for humor.

She laughed for more than ten minutes before finally calming down. Taking a deep breath, Valsha wiped her eyes, which seemed slightly wet beneath her bandages.

"Okay, okay, I promise. When the time comes, bring your army, and I'll clear a path for you," Valsha said with a smile.

Hearing this, both Viserys and Young Connington were overjoyed. But then Viserys quickly recalled what Shiera had told him about the young man from House Sennesta—gifted with great magical talent, but driven mad.

Viserys quickly composed himself and asked, "If you agree, what will it cost?"

Valsha's smile faded, and she looked at Viserys with dark, inscrutable eyes. The three of them stood in silence, the only sound in the hall being the hissing smoke from the dragons around the throne.

After a long pause, Valsha began circling Viserys. "I have been here for a thousand years, and I may be here for another thousand. In the next thousand years, I want you to keep me company."

Viserys was at a loss for words. "A thousand years? But I'll only live for a hundred or so before I die."

"That's fine. Just say yes or no. I can wait until you're a hundred years old."

This put him in a difficult position. He had lived less than fifty years in his two lives combined. A thousand years seemed like an unimaginable span of time, and he had no desire for immortality.

After some thought, Viserys realized he had nothing to lose, so he nodded and said, "I promise! But I'll take all the Valyrian steel armor here with me."

"Hahaha, okay," Valsha replied with a wink. For a moment, Viserys felt as if his soul had been lassoed by something unseen, a sensation that quickly faded. He knew it wasn't a hallucination—Valsha's "magic power" was very real. She had been capable of fusing blood magic and water magic before she was twenty, and although that attempt had failed, it still showcased her remarkable talent.

Moreover, Valsha had lived for more than a thousand years. Even if she studied magic sporadically, her knowledge would still make her one of the most powerful figures in the magical world.

With the agreement made, Viserys was eager to leave, though he was tempted to ask if he could observe the dragons up close. However, he feared Valsha might use the opportunity to extract another favor, so he decided to hold off for now.

Yet, Valsha seemed reluctant to let them go. "Don't be in such a hurry. No one has been here for hundreds of years. I finally have someone to talk to, and it's so boring here!"

Her words didn't sound like those of a thousand-year-old creature but more like those of a lonely, curious girl. Viserys felt a twinge of unease at the thought. 'What? You talk to corpses? Why not the furniture?' he wondered, unnerved.

Valsha walked over to the petrified corpses kneeling before the throne. She removed something that looked like a crown from one corpse's head and placed it on another, muttering to herself, "Today, it's your turn to be king."

"Come take a look. Doesn't this crown look better on this one's head?" Valsha called out to Viserys, leaving him with no choice but to approach.

What he saw sent a chill down his spine. These weren't just corpses—these people were still alive! Their eyes, though dull and grey-purple, were rolling back and forth in their sockets. Viserys could see a deep, unbreakable numbness in their gaze.

But when they noticed Viserys, a flicker of light returned to their eyes, as if lives on the brink of withering had been rekindled.

The look in their eyes seemed to beg Viserys: "Kill me! Please, end this now!" A chill ran down his spine. Was this what awaited him—spending a thousand years in Chroyane, trapped in this nightmare?

Viserys glanced at Valsha and imagined her in a white lab coat; she would look just like a mad scientist. It became clear to him that he would need to find a way to break this bizarre contract.

Suddenly, a realization struck him, and he turned sharply to look at the dragons around the throne. Although they were alive, they seemed eerily similar to the Valyrians. Valsha had turned these dragons into "grey mist machines." He noticed that the dragons were emaciated, their ribs painfully visible, and their backbones jutting out as if trying to break through their scales.

Viserys and Valsha chatted for what felt like an eternity—nearly four or five hours—just to bring her up to speed on the changes in the outside world. As he prepared to leave, Viserys mentioned the hallucinations Regis and the others had been experiencing, hoping Valsha could offer a solution.

"That's a different price," Valsha replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"What do I have to do?" Viserys asked warily.

"Spend another thirty years with me."

Viserys thought it over. Since he had already agreed to a thousand years, another thirty didn't seem like much. Reluctantly, he agreed.

After the deal was struck, Valsha began to unwind the bandage from her arm, removing about three or four meters of it. Pale, rough skin was revealed, resembling marble. "Just shove this in their mouths, and they'll be fine in no time," she said, handing him the bandage.

Viserys took it and asked, "And how am I supposed to get the soldiers in?"

Valsha tilted her head with a sly smile. "Just soak it in water and make the soldiers drink it."

The look in her eyes made it clear—Viserys had been tricked.

Chapter 229: Half-Living Dragons

Valsha let out a smug, wicked laugh at the expression on Viserys' face. "Come, since dragons have been extinct for over a hundred years, I'll show you a live one," she said, leading them eagerly to the 'dragon chimney' beside the throne.

The dragons she had altered were covered in soot-colored black and brown, giving them the appearance of statues carved from poor-quality stone. At first glance, they looked like a sculptor's failed attempt at art. But Valsha had completely transformed these creatures, reducing them to little more than smoke-spewing machines. Even their eyes had turned to stone.

Viserys observed that the dragons, each about the size of a railway carriage, could double their length if their tails were included. Although their wings were folded, their span was impressive—each wing could easily cover two or three carriages.

"This one is called Galokhale," Valsha said, pointing to the dragon in front of Viserys. "That one is Fhirdcegal, and those two over there are Vhiri Los and Krorius."

Viserys pondered for a moment, guessing that after the fall of Valyria, the Targaryens had boldly used the names of Valyrian gods to name their dragons.

Up close, he noticed that the scales on this dragon were the size of a human ear. However, each scale bore tiny signs of erosion, pitted and rough. The dragon had not only lost its original color but seemed to be entirely drained of life.

Curious, Viserys cautiously placed his hand on the dragon to see if there would be any reaction. The texture was rough, confirming his suspicion that the scales had also been petrified.

He waited expectantly for feedback from his panel. After all, touching Dragonbone and Dragonblood had granted attribute points before, so there was no reason why touching a living dragon shouldn't yield a similar response.

However, one second passed, then three seconds, five seconds, ten... Half a minute went by, but there was no response. 'Could it be that the system doesn't recognize it because of Valsha's modifications?' Viserys wondered, maintaining his composure as if nothing was amiss.

Valsha and Young Connington were both watching him intently. Just as he was about to give up, the familiar feedback finally appeared before his eyes.

[Touching a half-alive dragon gains 239 attribute points]

Over two hundred points! A flash of surprise crossed Viserys's eyes. This was equivalent to more than half a month's worth of accumulation, meaning he could hatch dragons sooner than expected.

There were still three dragons left, and if he could touch them all, he'd have enough points to hatch a dragon as soon as he returned.

However, Viserys also noticed a crucial detail on the panel—half-alive. This meant the dragons were in a similar state to the Dragonlords, neither fully alive nor fully dead.

"What do you think? Is it different from what you expected?" Valsha asked, her tone curious.

"I can't say. I've never touched a real dragon before." To cover up his unusual behavior, he turned to Young Connington and said, "You try it too."

"Yes, Prince," Young Connington replied, moving to the other dragons and placing his hand on each one in turn.

[Touching a half-alive dragon gains 259 attribute points]

[Touching a half-alive dragon gains 238 attribute points]

[Touching a half-alive dragon gains 268 attribute points]

The four half-alive dragons provided Viserys with nearly a thousand attribute points, more than enough if he chose to use them for sacrifice. The two of them wandered around the main hall a bit more, and just as Viserys was about to leave, Valsha offered to show them the grave of "Prince Garin."

However, Viserys was concerned about time. They needed to leave The Sorrows and head directly to meet the Horselord, and any delay could negatively impact their morale.

"Well, we'll have plenty of time for that later. I'll be waiting for you," Valsha said, her invitation lingering in the air.

Reluctantly, Viserys agreed. As they left the main hall, he instructed Young Connington to keep the promise of thousand years a secret. Young Connington understood Viserys's intent and readily agreed.

On their way back, they stripped a suit of Valyrian steel armor from one of the petrified bodies and put it on before heading to the magic bus where Regis and the others were waiting. They found Regis and the Unsullied lying or crouching, utterly drained of strength, their eyes unfocused and pupils dilated. If not for their shallow breathing, they might have been mistaken for dead.

Viserys placed the strip of cloth he had taken from Valsha under Regis's nose. Slowly, a light returned to his eyes.

"Prince? Why are we here? Did I fall asleep?" Regis asked groggily, his confusion evident.

Viserys let out a sigh of relief and handed a piece of the cloth to Young Connington, tucking the larger piece back into his garment. "It's fine. I've got what we need. Let's head back now."

The grey mist around them made everything hazy, blurring the sense of time. With no way to tell day from night, it was hard to gauge how long they had been stranded in the main hall of the Palace of Sorrows. But Viserys felt it had only been a few hours.

After waking Regis and the others, they quickly made their way to the Bridge of Sorrows. The stone men stationed there no longer had any will to stop them.

Bodies still littered the bridge, and the survivors huddled near the street lamps on either side, eyeing the group with a mix of fear and awe.

The old boatman, who had been waiting with his two small grandchildren, was dozing on the boat, with the Unsullied standing guard nearby, also taking a brief rest. As soon as he spotted Viserys and the others, the Unsullied quickly woke the boatman and his grandchildren, signaling for them to bring the boat closer to the shore.

One by one, the group descended the short spear ladder they had left behind. The old boatman hurriedly approached, relief washing over his face. "Thank the gods for allowing the Lords to return safely!"

"Safe in the seventh circle of hell!" Regis muttered irritably. He had finally made it to the Palace of Sorrows but hadn't been able to meet the legendary Shrouded Lady.

His frustration was palpable, knowing he'd have less to boast about in the future. He pestered Young Connington with questions the entire way back.

"Old boatman, how long have you been waiting here?" Viserys asked.

"My lord, the river has risen and fallen nine times while we waited, which should be less than five days."

"Five days! That's a long time!" Viserys exclaimed, surprised. He had thought it had been only a day or two at most. Realizing they were pressed for time to reach the agreed battleground with the Horselord, he urged, "Hurry up and go!"

Chapter 230: Commotion

The news of Viserys's impending duel with the Horselord spread quickly throughout the Free Cities.

From Braavos in the far north to Volantis in the south, and from Qohor and Norvos deep within the mountains and ancient forests, envoys were dispatched to witness the event. Notably, Arianne's mother, Mellario, represented Norvos at the duel.

Despite their frequent skirmishes and even wars with one another, the nine Free Cities were united in their stance toward the Dothraki. They hoped for Viserys's victory, as it would mean they could pay the Dothraki less in the future, should they need to offer tribute in gold.

The Sealord of Braavos, Ferrego, had already tacitly acknowledged that Roth would succeed him as the next Sealord. For this important diplomatic event, he sent Roth as Braavos's representative. Roth arrived with his eldest son, Little Viserys, cradled in his arms, while his pregnant wife, Methys, stood nearby.

They had already visited the temple of the Moonsingers, where it was confirmed that Methys was carrying a daughter. The couple had decided to name her Daenerys.

"Viserys has been gone from Braavos for just over two years. I thought he'd be content as an officer in a mercenary company, or at best, commanding a small force of his own. He truly is extraordinary!" Roth remarked, holding his son. Although they hadn't seen Viserys in two years, they had frequently heard news of his exploits.

"We shouldn't just focus on his accomplishments. Think about what he's done in these two years—each of his actions has been like dancing on the edge of a knife," Lady Methys added. She too found Viserys's achievements almost surreal. As a woman with a more sensitive intuition, she could sense the perilous nature of his journey, even though she had only heard secondhand accounts.

What Viserys had accomplished was on par with the feats of the Ninepenny Kings—except he succeeded where they had failed, time and time again. His current position not only surpassed that of House Zaine but had elevated House Targaryen far beyond its former standing, as if it were rapidly reclaiming its rightful place in the world.

In Volantis, the two Triarchs of the Elephant Party, Alios and Nyessos, were responsible for their city's delegation. Besides witnessing the duel between Viserys and the Horselord, they also sought to sign a non-aggression pact with the "Confederation of Four Daughters."

In truth, Alios hadn't wanted to bring Nyessos along at all. The signing of the non-aggression pact was a significant political achievement, one that Alios envisioned basking in alone. He often imagined the scene: waving the pact triumphantly in front of a crowd of Tiger Party members, chest puffed out, declaring, "I have secured an entire generation of peace." What a glorious moment that would be.

The only reason Nyessos was included was because he had been overly generous in his support, making it difficult for Alios to exclude him. Despite their differing ambitions, both men were confident that Viserys would win the duel. After all, not every man could survive a three-on-one fight and still walk away.

"Lord Alios, once the war is over, do you think Viserys might be interested in selling that Valyrian steel armor he promised?" Nyessos asked, testing the waters.

Alios responded without hesitation, "Lord Nyessos, are you feeling unwell?"

In Volantis, everyone is sharp and ambitious, and the thought of possessing a complete set of Valyrian steel armor is tantalizing—almost more painful than not having it at all.

"Then could I at least borrow it for a while?" Nyessos persisted.

"I recall a Dragonlord once bestowed a hairband on your ancestor. If you're willing to part with that, I'll give you the armor..."

The two men haggled over the matter but ultimately reached no agreement. Yet, these negotiations were trivial compared to the larger concerns at hand.

One such concern was Benerro, whose presence in Volantis made both men uneasy. The religious faction of R'hllor and the Triarchs had never been on friendly terms, especially now that Benerro had preemptively invited Viserys to the Lord of Light's temple. Both the political and religious factions were vying for Viserys's favor, seeing him as a valuable ally.

However, Benerro's vision extended far beyond mere political maneuvering. In the flames, he had seen the followers of the Black Goat and knew the conflict between these factions would shape the future of Essos for the next century. Benerro intended to position himself as Viserys's protector, anticipating the inevitable clash between the followers of the Lord of Light and those of the Black Goat in Qohor, where tensions were already nearing the point of bloodshed.

But the followers of the Black Goat were not the only ones making moves. Even the warlocks of Qarth had sent emissaries to the Disputed Lands. Leading them was none other than Pyat Pree, the warlock who had once tried to steal the life force of the Mother of Dragons in the original story.

However, the situation was complicated, and Pree wasn't sure how to approach Viserys and Daenerys. All he could do was take things one step at a time.

Among all the people involved, Connington was the busiest. Not only did he have to coordinate supplies for the army, but he also had to receive envoys from all sides on behalf of Viserys. With barely any sleep each night and the army marching toward the Lhorulu River, he had turned his wagon into a makeshift office.

Most of the time, he relied on cigarettes to stay awake, filling his carriage with a constant haze of smoke. Anyone who stepped inside would think it was on fire.

"So, you two are here on behalf of House Tyrell?" Connington asked, eyeing the two bastards sent by the Old Rose. He couldn't help but feel a bit irritated.

Even Dorne hadn't sent such minor representatives—after all, the Red Viper himself had come to liaise with Viserys. Three hundred years ago, House Tyrell had been merely the stewards of House Gardener. They didn't have much of the blood of Garth Greenhand in their veins, yet here they were, sending two bastards as their envoys. It felt like an insult.

"Ahem, Lord Griff, we understand your frustration," Garrett said, trying to reassure Connington, though he was clearly uncomfortable in the thick smoke of the carriage. "Blessed be the King and the Gods, but Prince Viserys has risen so quickly over the years that Lord Mace sent us to make contact."

Their reasoning was understandable. During Robert's Rebellion, House Tyrell had stood firmly by House Targaryen and had therefore been under the most scrutiny and pressure from King Robert. With Willas, the eldest, disabled, Loras preoccupied with Renly, and only Garlan available, they didn't have many options for sending a more prestigious envoy.

Table of Contents

1: Chapter 1: A Song of Ice and Fire, Viserys
2: Chapter 2: Add Points, Subtract Points
3: Chapter 3: Violent Debt Collection
4: Chapter 4: Working to Pay Off Your Debt
5: Chapter 5: Dance of Water
6: Chapter 6: Automatic System
7: Chapter 7: Violent Debt Collection II
8: Chapter 8: Midnight Bloodshed
9: Chapter 9: Night of Blood and Fire
10: Chapter 10: The Fierce Fish-Eater

11: Chapter 11: The Fierce Fish Mansion Collapsed

12: Chapter 12: Even Those Who Don’t Burn Have Fevers

13: Chapter 13: Master Swordsmanship
14: Chapter 14: The Courtesan of Braavos
15: Chapter 15: Professional Meeting
16: Chapter 16: The Second Brother’s Surprise
17: Chapter 17: Dragon Dreams Observation
18: Chapter 18: Brother Is Too Cold
19: Chapter 19: Plot After Plot
20: Chapter 20: Illyrio
21: Chapter 21: Bluffing
22: Chapter 22: Hoarding Rare Goods

23: Chapter 23: Confession Night, Terrifying Skinchanger

24: Chapter 24: Temple of the Moonsingers
25: Chapter 25: Song of the Moon
26: Chapter 26: Song of the Moon II

27: Chapter 27: How to Turn One Pound of Gold into Two

28: Chapter 28: Helbo: ‘Stupid’
29: Chapter 29: The Themed Brothel
30: Chapter 30: Viserys’ Reputation
31: Chapter 31: Helbo: ‘He’s Sick’
32: Chapter 32: Entrapment
33: Chapter 33: Damn, It’s a Scam
34: Chapter 34: Bet
35: Chapter 35: Falia’s Boat
36: Chapter 36: Alas~
37: Chapter 37: Iron Bank
38: Chapter 38: Dany’s Birthday
39: Chapter 39: Half Skinchanger
40: Chapter 40: Dany’s Birthday II
41: Chapter 41: The Power of House Fregar
42: Chapter 42: House Zalyne
43: Chapter 43: A Victory Without Bloodshed
44: Chapter 44: Purple Dragon Egg
45: Chapter 45: Constitution +10
46: Chapter 46: Falia’s Troubles
47: Chapter 47: Hard to Get
48: Chapter 48: I Swim Fast
49: Chapter 49: Swordsmanship Competition
50: Chapter 50: Making the Most of Things
51: Chapter 51: Seagull
52: Chapter 52: Viserys in the Basin
53: Chapter 53: Constitution 90+
54: Chapter 54: The Sealord’s Palace
55: Chapter 55: Heart Rain
56: Chapter 56: Company of the Cat
57: Chapter 57: Kyla, Use Your Head
58: Chapter 58: The Customs of the Dothraki
59: Chapter 59: The Bear
60: Chapter 60: Jorah Mormont
61: Chapter 61: Marriage Partner

62: Chapter 62: At Least He Still Has His Upper Lip

63: Chapter 63: Fate of a Courtesan
64: Chapter 64: The Old Boatman’s Awakening
65: Chapter 65: Choosing a Sellsword Company
66: Chapter 66: Kinslaying
67: Chapter 67: Powerful
68: Chapter 68: Braavos’ Lover
69: Chapter 69: I Doubt It
70: Chapter 70: The Three Spectators
71: Chapter 71: Mother of Dragons’ Lover

72: Chapter 72: You Have Nothing to Do With the Targaryens

73: Chapter 73: A Targaryen’s Life is a Mess
74: Chapter 74: Props
75: Chapter 75: Simping Until the End
76: Chapter 76: One Last Effort
77: Chapter 77: Time Challenge
78: Chapter 78: Victory Kiss

79: Chapter 79: You Don’t Have the Answer I Want in Your Eyes

80: Chapter 80: Dragon Egg (1/5)
81: Chapter 81: Fire’s Joy
82: Chapter 82: To Hatch it, Of Course
83: Chapter 83: Harder Than Aegon’s Campaign

84: Chapter 84: This Old Man Is Blocking My Attack

85: Chapter 85: Little Viserys
86: Chapter 86: Crown
87: Chapter 87: Storm
88: Chapter 88: Fame from a Single Battle
89: Chapter 89: Jorah Arrives at the Door
90: Chapter 90: Braavos, See You Again
91: Chapter 91: Robert’s Troubles
92: Chapter 92: This Seagull is Really Clever

93: Chapter 93: Just Out of the Novice Village

94: Chapter 94: Naval Battle
95: Chapter 95: The Red Widow
96: Chapter 96: The Tattered Prince

97: Chapter 97: The First Head Devours the Dying, and the Reborn Emerges from the Third

98: Chapter 98: Everyone, Would You Like a Valyrian Steel Sword?

99: Chapter 99: Is He Crazy?

100: Chapter 100: Team Up to Defeat a “Dragon”

101: Chapter 101: No, That’s Your Blade

102: Chapter 102: Doubts at the Pirate Gathering

103: Chapter 103: Decapitation

104: Chapter 104: With a Brain Like That, Thank the Gods He’s a Windblown

105: Chapter 105: Sellswords Can Hire Sellswords

106: Chapter 106: Euron’s Silence

107: Chapter 107: Unwilling to Enter Without Dragon Eggs

108: Chapter 108: Scared Dany
109: Chapter 109: Revealed Identity
110: Chapter 110: Eat It

111: Chapter 111: Blood Magic Has Other Uses As Well

112: Chapter 112: Broken Dragon Egg
113: Chapter 113: Redeeming Bounties
114: Chapter 114: Bounty as Compensation

115: Chapter 115: Viserys Felt Pity for “Himself”

116: Chapter 116: Is This a Test of Sainthood?

117: Chapter 117: A Blatant Lie

118: Chapter 118: Red Dragon Egg

119: Chapter 119: Fire Magic: Starting with a Candle

120: Chapter 120: Euron’s “Incarnation”

121: Chapter 121: Why is the Captain Pouring Me Tea?

122: Chapter 122: Sharing Wealth

123: Chapter 123: Next Leader of Windblown

124: Chapter 124: The Fat Stag and the Queen Must Stay Married

125: Chapter 125: Blood Nourishment

126: Chapter 126: How to Poison Through Fire

127: Chapter 127: Halfway to Victory or Just Wishful Thinking?

128: Chapter 128: Windblown’s Reputation

129: Chapter 129: This is Micro-Operation

130: Chapter 130: Company of the Cat’s Retreat

131: Chapter 131: I Prefer You When You’re Unruly

132: Chapter 132: The Old Captain’s Real Name
133: Chapter 133: Viserys’s One-Man Mission
134: Chapter 134: Don’t Make a Scene

135: Chapter 135: I Bet Your Wine Isn’t Poisonous

136: Chapter 136: Natural Selection, Set Sail!

137: Chapter 137: Lingerie Creativity

138: Chapter 138: Red Viper

139: Chapter 139: First Encounter with the Red Viper

140: Chapter 140: Secret Marriage Pact
141: Chapter 141: The Dignity of an Elder
142: Chapter 142: A War of Words
143: Chapter 143: A War of Words II

144: Chapter 144: How to Convince Customers They’re Getting Their Money’s Worth

145: Chapter 145: The Smoking Sea of Valyria
146: Chapter 146: Dragon’s Blood
147: Chapter 147: Not Hot At All
148: Chapter 148: Dragonblood Knight
149: Chapter 149: Young Mother
150: Chapter 150: Illyrio, Here I Come
151: Chapter 151: Illyrio, Here I Come (II)
152: Chapter 152: Nighttime Bath

153: Chapter 153: What Is Your Relationship With Their Leader?

154: Chapter 154: He’s Your Nephew
155: Chapter 155: I Want to Learn That!
156: Chapter 156: He Should Thank Us
157: Chapter 157: Viserys’s Paramour
158: Chapter 158: Faceless Men‎?
159: Chapter 159: Shiera Seastar
160: Chapter 160: Portraits

161: Chapter 161: The Stillborn Child of the Mother of Dragons

162: Chapter 162: Young Mother is Powerful

163: Chapter 163: Since I Can’t Stay in Lys, Let’s Go to Tyrosh

164: Chapter 164: Through Thick and Thin

165: Chapter 165: How Am I Supposed to Take It If You Won’t?

166: Chapter 166: Nobody Enjoys Eating Dry Food

167: Chapter 167: Jon Connington’s Discovery
168: Chapter 168: Make Tyrosh Great Again
169: Chapter 169: Well Played
170: Chapter 170: Dany’s Speech
171: Chapter 171: Dragon Shooting Crossbow
172: Chapter 172: The Tomb of the Unsullied
173: Chapter 173: The Stairs Made Me Spin
174: Chapter 174: The Unsullied Scepter

175: Chapter 175: The Archon Wants to Kill Him

176: Chapter 176: Goodbye

177: Chapter 177: Attack on Pentos

178: Chapter 178: Where Did These Rebels Come From?

179: Chapter 179: Great Timing, Waboh, Now Give Him the Right News

180: Chapter 180: Tywin’s Head Is Yours, Robert’s Is Mine

181: Chapter 181: Three Dragon Eggs

182: Chapter 182: Give Me a Dragon Egg

183: Chapter 183: If My Brother Ever Needs a Paramour…

184: Chapter 184: Four Daughter’s Kingdom, “Confederation”

185: Chapter 185: Viserys’s Dragon Robe

186: Chapter 186: Brother, When Can We…

187: Chapter 187: Come On, Euron—Let’s See What You Can Do

188: Chapter 188: New Leader of Windblown

189: Chapter 189: Perhaps He Can Be Persuaded to Give Up the Iron Throne

190: Chapter 190: Tyrells’ Table

191: Chapter 191: Midwife of the Mother of Dragons

192: Chapter 192: Traitor and the Dragon’s Horn

193: Chapter 193: Kraken and the Dragon Egg

194: Chapter 194: Viserys’s Parting Wish

195: Chapter 195: The Stallion Who Mounts the World

196: Chapter 196: The Battle in the “Silence”
197: Chapter 197: Counter Spell
198: Chapter 198: Bleeding Star
199: Chapter 199: Decapitating Euron
200: Chapter 200: Kraken

201: Chapter 201: The Three-Eyed Raven’s Candidate

202: Chapter 202: Blue Dragon Egg and Dreamer
203: Chapter 203: Distorted Prophecy
204: Chapter 204: You Are Just a Sacrifice

205: Chapter 205: Will You Help Me Take Volantis?

206: Chapter 206: Red Dragon Egg II
207: Chapter 207: Red Viper, Seduce Cersei!
208: Chapter 208: Drive Out the Dothraki

209: Chapter 209: The Windblown’s Ladder of Contempt

210: Chapter 210: I’ve Embraced the Faith of the Seven

211: Chapter 211: Seven Dragon Eggs
212: Chapter 212: Jhaqo’s Revenge
213: Chapter 213: The Hunt for Jhaqo
214: Chapter 214: Tower of Skulls
215: Chapter 215: Khal Drogo

216: Chapter 216: The Black Goat and the Triumphal Arch

217: Chapter 217: The Alliance Against Viserys

218: Chapter 218: Dragon Alliance
219: Chapter 219: Whence Comes the Offering
220: Chapter 220: Horselord’s Challenge
221: Chapter 221: Viserys Is a Treasure Trove
222: Chapter 222: Viserys Sennesta
223: Chapter 223: Greyscale
224: Chapter 224: Bridge of Dream
225: Chapter 225: Palace of Sorrows
226: Chapter 226: Last Dragons
227: Chapter 227: The Dancing Little Man
228: Chapter 228: And… The Price?
229: Chapter 229: Half-Living Dragons
230: Chapter 230: Commotion