บท 144: 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.
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