章 195: Chapter 194: Assassin
The yellow-forked-beard merchant Magister began to complain about the terrible weather, tightly gripping Viserys' hand.
However, he looked around and took the opportunity to lean forward slightly while holding Viserys' hand.
He whispered in Viserys' ear, like a mosquito's hum.
"Your Majesty, you shouldn't have come to Pentos."
"Oh?"
Viserys raised his eyebrows upon hearing his words, tilted his head slightly to look at the plump Magister's ear, and appeared somewhat surprised.
Then, he knowingly responded quietly.
"What do you mean by that, Magister?"
"Ah..."
However, Illyrio didn't say much more, just sighed and shook his head.
He soon let go of Viserys' hand and gestured with an invitation.
"Your Majesty, let's talk about this back at the manor."
...
Not long after, the cavalry led by Viserys entered the city of Pentos. They raised their banners and rode through the wide streets of the city, drawing the attention of many Pentoshi.
This was a prosperous and magnificent city far surpassing Andalos and even rivaled King's Landing. Square brick towers covered with tiles could be seen everywhere.
In the distance, towering hills were surrounded by dense buildings. Now, everything was covered in a blanket of snow, and the heavy snow continued to fall from the sky.
"Phew..."
Viserys rode his warhorse, followed by the cavalry as they crossed the bustling streets of Pentos, breathing out white vapor.
Pentos had a dense population, even rumored to surpass that of Slaver's Bay's Astapor. Viserys' cavalry of over two hundred people entering Pentos was like a small boat entering a vast ocean, unable to make any waves.
The regular army, not mercenaries, marching through the streets still attracted the attention of many Pentoshi, especially with their bright red three-headed dragon banners.
The Pentoshi were all too familiar with this emblem.
They knew that a powerful neighbor had risen around Pentos - the exiled Targaryen royal family, who had come to Essos, carrying the blood of true kings.
Illyrio's carriage led the way, clearing the crowd to the sides. The Magister's banner was ultimately more useful in Pentos than the Targaryen's.
Curious onlookers stared at them from both sides.
Viserys, sitting on horseback, could see the bustling crowd.
There were street vendors pushing carts, barefoot fishermen shouting to sell their fish, children playing on rooftops with sunburnt cheeks, groups of armed mercenaries, and even a few Dothraki.
These Dothraki might be slaves of some rich merchant or individuals who had left their tribe to make their own way.
Such scenes were common in Pentos, a massive city-state that attracted people from all walks of life, regions, and even races.
In the midst of this, a small incident occurred.
A wine merchant pulling a cart of wine barrels saw the three-headed dragon flag and shouted the name of House Targaryen, blocking the path of the troops.
The merchant claimed to be from the Riverlands, spoke fluent Common Tongue of Westeros, and even had a hint of a King's Landing accent.
He stopped the cavalry, claiming loyalty to the true king, and that the people of Westeros eagerly awaited Viserys to lead an army across the Narrow Sea, overthrow the usurper's rule, and then offered to toast Viserys with a glass of wine.
However, Viserys sat calmly on his horse, holding the reins and watching the 'wine merchant' below him.
As he stared at the deep red wine the man was holding, his expression remained unchanged. He then nodded to the soldiers beside him.
"Make him drink this wine."
Viserys spoke calmly.
The surrounding soldiers, who were like hungry wolves, pounced upon hearing his order. The 'wine merchant,' realizing the danger, quickly drew a dagger from his waist, trying to fight his way out.
However, Viserys' guards were elite soldiers selected through rigorous trials. One of them stabbed the 'merchant' in the thigh, causing him to cry out in pain.
They quickly grabbed the man's wrist and disarmed him. Two soldiers held his shoulders and wrists while another broke his kneecap with a brutal kick.
Crack—
The 'wine merchant' screamed in pain, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
Another soldier approached and grabbed the man's chin, forcing his mouth open, and held the wine he had intended to serve Viserys.
"Your Grace?"
The guard turned to Viserys for instruction.
Viserys glanced at Illyrio, who had also come down from his carriage. The sudden turn of events had caught Illyrio off guard, and his forehead was dripping with cold sweat, fearing that Viserys might misunderstand.
"This has nothing to do with me, Your Grace."
Feeling Viserys' gaze, the plump man quickly nodded.
"It is a despicable act. Do as you please."
Viserys nodded slightly.
"Your Grace, shall we interrogate him first?"
Lurking beneath his hood, Ramsay suddenly asked, his eyes gleaming with cruelty.
Not only had Viserys noticed the attempt, but Ramsay had also quietly warned him earlier.
Such a crude assassination attempt might fool an inexperienced girl, but deceiving Viserys and Ramsay was near impossible.
"No need."
Viserys shook his head slightly, then looked around at the people of Pentos who had gathered to watch the commotion.
It seemed that the love of watching a spectacle was universal.
"The news will spread quickly, and we won't learn anything from interrogating him. The perpetrator has already fled."
"Right, as you say."
Ramsay listened to Viserys and nodded.
Once again, he hid his face beneath his hood and sneered at the 'wine merchant' before walking away.
Viserys nodded to the soldiers who had captured the assassin and continued on his way without looking back.
In the face of the terrified man, the poisoned wine was forcibly poured down his throat.
Not long after, the man who claimed to be from the Riverlands turned as red as blood, writhing on the ground.
He desperately clawed at his own throat until it was bloody and raw, and then his legs gave one final kick before he went completely still.
Seeing the man's reaction after drinking the wine, the crowd erupted in shock.
Among these people, however, was a plain-looking, balding man who had witnessed the entire scene.
He raised his head, his eyes filled with mixed emotions as he watched Viserys' retreating figure.
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