Not far away.
Rhaenys, hiding around the corner of the hallway, witnessed the scene, her body trembling uncontrollably.
A wave of fear spread throughout her.
She thought back to the nightmare from six months ago, where two groups fought a bloody battle right before her eyes. The blood, the vicious smiles, like a silent play performed repeatedly in her mind.
She would awaken in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat.
But at this moment, Rhaenys managed to suppress the urge to scream. She was smart enough to know that she couldn't make a sound, or terrible things would happen.
The brown-haired girl curled up her small body, hiding at the end of the hallway, her hand covering her mouth. She even breathed cautiously, her face turning slightly red from holding her breath.
Not far away.
A man with dark hair and a face painted with strange colors leaped into the castle from a stone window.
He was tall and muscular, towering like a mountain. He wore thick leather armor and carried a massive battle-axe on his back. On his head was a dented, shabby helmet, and he emitted an unpleasant odor.
He was the first mercenary to climb up from below. Despite his size, he was surprisingly agile.
Dragonstone castle, though on the coast, was built on a mountaintop. Not far away was a smoking volcano.
To reach the stone window, one had to scale a steep cliff, which was nearly impossible for a regular person. Viserys, locked in a room, had no thoughts of escaping, as he didn't want to fall to his death.
Because of these factors, there were few guards in this area, and tonight was a special situation. The guards were distracted by the battle at sea.
These ruthless mercenaries seized the opportunity and sneaked in.
Living on the edge had made them exceptionally cautious.
The man, still breathing heavily, seemed to have used a lot of energy in climbing.
He took a few deep breaths, looked around carefully, and listened intently.
Discovering that the surroundings were quiet and everything was normal, they hadn't been detected by the guards.
He then raised his hand to his lips and gently whistled.
The sound was faint, like a small bird chirping.
The grappling hook's rope stirred again. His companions, waiting below, heard the signal and began to climb up one by one.
Rhaenys, hiding around the corner, watched in terror as seven people climbed into the castle through the stone window.
Each one had a different appearance, but they all wore dark, inconspicuous clothing. Their dark leather armor was wrapped in tattered black cloth, using the cover of night to hide their forms. They had swords at their waists, battle-axes on their backs, and longbows.
This group of seven mercenaries had clearly defined roles, including designated archers and shield bearers.
"Hm?"
At that moment, one of the men, who had wrapped his head with a black scarf and painted his face with strange colors, noticed a doll that had just fallen from Rhaenys' grasp.
He bent down to pick it up.
"Hey, Landon."
The man was the leader of the mercenary group. Holding Rhaenys' doll and weighing it slightly, he looked at the large man who had climbed up first and asked, "This looks like a noble lady's toy. Are you sure you didn't see anything when you climbed up?"
They had received a lucrative assignment, so they naturally had to give it their all.
They also understood the difficulty of this task; any carelessness could lead to their deaths, leaving them with money they couldn't spend.
Of course, if they succeeded, the reward would be astonishing. The final payment could be enough to let them buy a castle to become nobles themselves, or transform into legitimate shipowners with a fleet of a dozen or more ships.
The assignment was ostensibly from a merchant in the Vale, who had contacted them through unknown channels.
However, they didn't believe a word of the other party's claims. How could an obscure merchant from the Vale want to pay such a high price to take the lives of the last Targaryens?
The staggering sum initially made them doubt their ears, thinking the other party was a swindler.
However, when the so-called merchant from the Vale pulled out a bag of glittering gold dragons as a down payment and told them the rest would be paid upon the delivery of Rhaella and Viserys' heads, the mercenaries finally believed him.
After some probing, they realized the real mastermind behind this money was none other than the Iron Throne of Westeros, with a newly seated king eager to eliminate any potential threats.
There seemed to be a hint of Lannister involvement as well.
Perhaps to express loyalty to the Iron Throne, Tywin Lannister may have directly sponsored King Robert with this huge sum to eliminate the last Targaryens.
Hearing his leader's words, Landon, the tall man with a painted face, furrowed his brow and looked at the somewhat dirty doll.
He hadn't noticed that such a small thing had fallen to the ground, given his height and his focus on potential guards, not the ground.
"No."
The large man, his face painted and carrying a battle-axe, shook his head decisively and denied it.
He wasn't being evasive; he genuinely hadn't seen anyone, let alone a noble lady, when he climbed up.
"Besides, this place clearly houses the servants. Why would a lady be here?"
"Maybe it was accidentally dropped here."
The guards wouldn't protect those with even lower status than the servants, so they had chosen this spot as the breach point to break into the castle.
People who had spent their lives fighting on the edge of a blade were naturally cautious. Their profession was to take people's money and eliminate problems for them. They could kill, kidnap, or do anything as long as they were paid, and their skills were exceptional. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been chosen by King Robert's emissary.
"Really?"
Upon hearing his companion's words, the leader's brow relaxed a bit, and he nodded, not taking the matter too seriously.
It was just a casual question.
At that moment, a faint sound came from around the corner of the not-too-distant corridor.
Click—