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The relentless assassination attempts nearly drove Robert Baratheon mad. He constantly demanded more loans from Tywin Lannister in the West and from Braavos to fund his Royal Fleet. He was desperate to cross the Narrow Sea and crush the Targaryen siblings—the pair he dreamed of strangling every night.
He cursed endlessly during the Small Council meetings, swearing to violate Daenerys's corpse right in front of the "spawn of the Mad King."
The Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, wore a perpetual frown. The crown was already drowning in debt, yet with a single command from the King, they had to borrow even more.
---
Essos.
"Viserys, Viserys, the Dragon King so true!
Blood of Valyria, the Iron Throne is due!
Who will ride with me, to conquer lands anew?
Follow the King to war, glory waits for you!"
Outside the city of Pentos, Viserys stood in full armor, gazing solemnly at the Targaryen army gathered beneath fluttering banners. The accompanying bards led the soldiers in a chant:
"Viserys, Viserys, the Dragon King so true!
With Dany as Queen and iron knights to pursue!
Fire burns the traitors, the jackals, and the few!
The Dragon returns, the world shakes through and through!"
Riding a small white mare, Daenerys blushed, not daring to look directly at her majestic brother who was about to lead the army.
After securing the throne, as Viserys's sister, she naturally had the duty to maintain the purity of the dragon bloodline by marrying her brother.
Daenerys lifted her head. The suffering of the past had become fleeting clouds; what lay ahead was boundless glory.
History is as vast as the sea. When it records how Viserys III conquered the lords and brought the Seven Kingdoms to their knees, and when bards sing of his greatness, people will know of Queen Daenerys.
She would be immortalized alongside him.
Daenerys felt a surge of emotion. Under the surprised gaze of her handmaiden Doreah, she suddenly shivered.
"Princess, are you cold?"
"The horn has sounded! The horses are ready! We march today! May the Warrior grant you valor!"
Viserys drew the longsword at his waist and commanded the three armies.
"The horn blasts long, the war banners fly high!
We march to the field, prepared to do or die!
The Dragon is immortal, our King beneath the sky!"
As the bards finished the final verse, the army roared, shouting "Long Live the King!"
With a command from King Viserys III, a massive force of nearly six thousand troops set off toward Braavos. This included over three thousand players, two thousand soldiers from the Pentos City Watch, the Royal Kingsguard (players), and the Royal Enforcement Squad.
When an army exceeds ten thousand, it covers mountains and plains. Although there were only six thousand combat troops, counting the camp followers, squires, and conscripted Rhoynar and Andal levies from Ghoyan Drohe, the Flatlands, and the Velvet Hills, the total number reached eleven thousand.
Faced with such a grand spectacle, many players were thrilled.
In previous "dungeons," players usually fought in scattered groups—a few hundred here, a thousand there. But this was different. The vanguard was already far ahead, and standing on high ground, looking back at the dragon-like procession stretching beyond the horizon, gave them a completely different feeling.
"Alright, brothers! We're marching out! Look at this scene—isn't it more epic than a movie?!"
Golden-Roc, a Beastmaster player, held the leashes of two mastiffs and looked speechlessly at his Vice Guild Leader, roommate, and best friend Salted-Egg. Salted-Egg was standing on a dirt mound, completely lost in his livestream, ignoring the "look at the monkey" expressions from the passing soldiers.
Even to other players, this guy looked crazy, talking to thin air on top of a dirt pile.
But Salted-Egg didn't care about the stares. His livestream room was packed to the bursting point. Gifts were flying in non-stop, and his heart pounded with excitement.
It's not money-grubbing... it's earning a living. Nothing shameful about that.
Plenty of people wanted to earn money this way but were stuck marching in formation, only able to stream the back of the guy's head in front of them. Who could compete with his panoramic view?
Ever since player Moon-Fang Strike opened up the livestreaming meta, many players had jumped on the bandwagon. Salted-Egg decided on a whim to try it today.
Using his authority as the Vice Leader of the Iron-Blood Youth League and Vice Commander of the Guild's Royal Knights, he indulged in a little abuse of power.
He broke formation and climbed the mound to start his stream, claiming he was "checking for stragglers."
In reality, he was just farming donations.
Many other streaming players cried foul, but it was useless. Salted-Egg just pretended the wind was too loud to hear their complaints.
In the center of the army, Viserys rode his warhorse, surrounded by circle after circle of Royal Kingsguard players—all in white cloaks, white armor, on white horses. They looked incredibly flashy.
Looking into the distance, Viserys tightened his grip on the reins.
Braavos, you shit-stirrer of Essos. Trying to build a coalition to teach me a lesson? I'm bringing my army to your doorstep without even declaring war!
---
At the same time, Lorath had gathered nearly four thousand troops—hedge knights, sellswords, fishermen, and conscripted peasants. Willing or not, poor Lorath had nearly emptied its coffers to change its fate.
When Braavos received word of the coalition's movements, Storm-Overlord, who had been waiting at the outpost in Ghoyan Drohe until his eyes bled, had already led his hundreds of players to the outskirts of Braavos and begun indiscriminately raiding merchant caravans.
"Why haven't those damned flies been dealt with yet?!"
Sealord Ferrego was furious.
This was the ninth caravan to be raided. Those accursed flies had cost Braavos at least a hundred thousand Gold Dragons in losses.
Just moments ago, Qarro had brought him more bad news: the three-hundred-man mercenary company sent to exterminate the flies had been ambushed and completely wiped out.
"How long until our army is fully assembled?!" Sealord Ferrego's face suddenly flushed red. He stood up straight, his voice booming, devoid of the weakness that had plagued him recently.
"The mercenary companies in the city have responded positively to our call. We have the Long Lances led by Gylo Rhegan with eight hundred men, and the Company of the Cat led by Bloodbeard with three thousand men.
There are also the remnants of the Stormcrows, two hundred men led by Daario Naharis. He swore to wash away his shame from Pentos with a victory."
Qarro reported the current troop strength of Braavos calmly:
"Adding the smaller mercenary groups, our forces have reached five thousand five hundred men."
"Our wealth is unmatched! Even if two beggars join hands, they are no match for us!"
Sealord Ferrego seemed unusually agitated, his face a frightening shade of red.
"Furthermore, we are contacting the Windblown. The Iron Bank offered them double their usual rate, but they said they are still considering it," Qarro continued.
"The price is negotiable! I just want those two beggars from Pentos and Lorath dead! once we occupy Lorath and Pentos in one fell swoop, the other Free Cities won't just sit by, but if we install two obedient puppets, I expect they won't dare bare their teeth at us!"
Backed by immense wealth, Sealord Ferrego felt the advantage was his. He was brimming with confidence, already planning how to digest the two city-states after the war.