Kapitel 223: Chapter 222: Every Mortal Must Die
All of this happened so suddenly.
The confrontation between the two was over in the blink of an eye.
Illyrio, who was sitting on the other side, hadn't even had time to react, let alone see the movements of the two, before both were injured.
The ragged prince had stabbed Viserys in the abdomen with a dagger, and Viserys, in turn, had twisted the other's wrist, plunging his own blade into the prince's abdomen.
Then, the ragged prince... he jumped from the tower, choosing suicide.
"This..."
Illyrio, coming to his senses, was startled at first, then quickly stood up, leaning on his cane.
He saw Viserys with one hand covering the wound in his abdomen, from where blood was steadily flowing. His body seemed to soften as he sat on the ground, gasping for breath.
Then, he called out loudly.
"Help! Someone!"
"An assassin!"
The guards in the tower, hearing the cry, rushed over. The sounds of footsteps and shouting echoed everywhere, and the Nine-Tower Palace quickly fell into chaos.
Meanwhile, an elderly man in ragged clothes with grey hair, having just dismounted from his tall horse and entered the palace, was immediately detained by a group of Targaryen soldiers.
The ragged prince was caught off guard and didn't even have a chance to resist. Unaware of what had happened, he cried out about his innocence.
Soon after, a physician, carrying a medicine box, hurried over.
Viserys, still sitting on the cold ground, gasping for breath, fumbled to pick up the dagger he had dropped.
On the shiny blade, apart from the deep red of blood, he saw a faint blue glow.
"Poison."
Viserys' chest rose and fell lightly. He could already feel his limbs gradually going numb.
Then, he felt warmth at his nostrils, and a drop of blood slowly trickled down.
"Huff~"
"Huff~"
Viserys' breathing was heavy, his eyes fixed on the spot reflecting the faint light, where blood and poison intertwined.
"Your Majesty."
"How do you feel now, is there any discomfort?"
An elderly physician with white hair was unwrapping his clothes to bandage the wound, while asking.
However, Viserys did not respond. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where the dagger was reflecting the light.
"Your Majesty?"
"Your Majesty?"
The old physician's voice rose in urgency.
But the next second, they saw nothing.
Boom—
A huge cloud of black mist, that seemed to have been accumulating for a long time, let out a terrifying, ghostly howl.
Then, it surged into Viserys' body.
...
"Long is the night, ice steps chiseled."
"At the edge of the world, endlessly drifting~"
The singing of a bard echoed from within a tavern, the melody beautiful.
."
"Due to the aftermath of the 'Blood Night', the tavern wasn't particularly crowded today, with most patrons discussing the events of the previous night.
The magisters of Pentos had invited the Targaryen king to celebrate the new year here. However, in a failed attempt to seize the dragon at the banquet, they ended up shooting themselves in the foot.
Dragons descended from the sky, burning the palace and killing all the magisters.
This morning, you could still see the enormous wealth being scavenged from the various magister residences, carted and transported to the harbor, destination unknown.
Those in the know already understood that the Targaryen king would not take up the crown and become the Prince of Pentos.
Instead, he had given this jewel of the bay to a mercenary leader, who was also the head of the Winds, responsible for the slaughter and fires last night. This had caused some panic among the people of Pentos.
Now, a singer in the tavern was playing a song from Westeros, one that might sound a bit unfamiliar to the people of Pentos.
It was a tale about the Rat Cook of the Nightfort, a story of a cook who, in revenge, killed the king's son, chopped him up, and baked him into a pie served to the king. The gods punished him by turning him into a giant white rat, doomed to wander the Nightfort forever, devouring his own offspring.
This was a story of a violation of guest right and the subsequent divine punishment, though it was unfamiliar to the people of Pentos.
However, it seemed to be 'following the times', and thus, with some additional rumors, it quickly spread throughout Pentos.
Clang--
A golden dragon coin flickered at the fingertips. Ramsay, his face concealed under his cloak, watched the singer, and then revealed a sinister smile.
The singer noticed Ramsay's smile from the corner of his eye, and a glint of joy sparked in his heart.
Ramsay then put down his goblet, got up, and left the table, placing the golden dragon on the table, telling the tavern maid it was for the singer, before heading toward the tavern's main entrance.
And at that moment.
The tavern door swung open, and a man with golden hair, a hooked nose, and a scar on his face entered.
Ramsay brushed past this man.
But the area near the tavern's counter was a bit narrow, and the blond man seemed a bit unsteady, failing to dodge in time, causing a slight collision.
Ramsay picked up on a familiar scent and noticed that the blond man's left hand seemed a bit stiff. However, he didn't think much of it, just giving a polite smile.
The blonde man was very respectful, placing his right hand on his stomach and bowing slightly.
"I apologize."
Then Ramsay pushed open the wooden door and left the tavern, while the blond man watched Ramsay's retreating figure, then withdrew his gaze.
He looked down at his open right hand, where a smear of blood was visible.
"A man has a right to vengeance~"
"But to kill a guest beneath one's own roof, to trample upon guest rights~"
"The gods shall never forgive!"
On the other side, the ballad about the Rat Cook continued.
After briefly listening, the blond man turned his gaze towards the tavern's counter and the maid there, pulled out a golden coin from his pocket, and handed it over.
However, his tip was not for the singer, he had another purpose.
"Valar Morghulis."
The blond man suddenly whispered this phrase in High Valyrian, which translates to 'All men must die'.
The tavern maid took the coin and ran her fingers over it lightly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she raised her head and took a good look at the man.
She replied in the same language, High Valyrian.
"Valar Dohaeris."
'All men must serve'
"What do you go by now?" the tavern maid, her apron wrapped around her, asked calmly.
"The man is called Miguel," the blond man shook his head, "A mercenary from Tyrosh."
"Oh," the maid's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Did you succeed?"
This time, the blond man remained silent for a long while before nodding slowly.
"Um..."
"I suppose so."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein