NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 100: Team Up to Defeat a “Dragon”
"I'll do it!" Webber stepped forward, his dissatisfaction with Viserys’s sudden promotion evident. Though the Seventh Battalion wouldn’t be disbanded immediately because of him, Webber couldn’t stand the idea of a greenhorn leading them to ruin. If that was the alternative, it might be better for the battalion to disband.
Seeing that the first match would be between the new sergeant major and the former one, the gathered mercenaries buzzed with excitement.
Viserys offered Webber a respectful salute, but all he received in return was a dismissive huff. The two men drew their swords and faced off.
A sharp-eyed mercenary suddenly shouted, "Look! That’s a Valyrian steel sword!" The realization sent a ripple through the crowd. The 7th Battalion soldiers, now seeing the prized weapon, understood that Viserys was no ordinary man. Their expectations of him rose, mingled with envy and a few greedy glances.
Webber began with a series of probing attacks, testing Viserys’s defenses. But Viserys wasn’t easily fooled, revealing no weaknesses. Instead, Webber was the one to falter first, his rhythm disrupted. Sensing an opportunity, Viserys launched a swift counterattack.
From the moment they clashed, Webber knew something was off. His opponent’s strength far exceeded his expectations. After only three exchanges, Webber felt his arms growing numb, while Viserys seemed completely unfazed. It was clear that Webber’s defeat was only a matter of time.
Unwilling to lose so easily, Webber intensified his assault, but Viserys was superior in both strength and skill. After a quick dodge, Viserys brought his blade to Webber’s neck, signaling his victory.
"Good!" Regis, Viserys’s squire, shouted loudly, his head held high. His enthusiasm was a bit out of place, though, as not many in the crowd were ready to support the "new guy." Still, Regis continued to cheer for Viserys, forcing Jorah to follow suit with some awkward applause.
Webber, though clearly disappointed, acknowledged his defeat. This time, he set aside his cold demeanor and bowed to Viserys.
"You're good," Darsent said, with his cherry-red hair, smirked but showed no intention of stepping up next. Viserys nodded with a smile and then turned to the other sergeants. "Anyone else want to challenge me?"
"I will!" a voice rang out, and Redback Gerrold stepped forward. Also from Westeros, Gerrold wasn’t from a noble house of great renown, and only one of his ancestors had ever held the title of knight. As the second son in his family, he had chosen to leave for the Free Cities and become a mercenary. By the age of thirty, he had risen to the rank of sergeant.
Gerrold approached Viserys and bowed respectfully before announcing his challenge. As Viserys scanned the faces of the 7th Battalion, he noticed that many still wore expressions of amusement. Clearly, he hadn’t yet achieved the impact he wanted.
"I recall that you and Black Gerrold are good friends," Viserys said, his voice carrying a provocative edge. "Why don’t you fight together?"
Redback Gerrold’s face darkened at the suggestion, and though Black Gerrold, standing nearby, kept his expression neutral, his eyes grew cold. The challenge was a blatant provocation.
Caggo’s eyes also lit up with interest, and the mercenaries of the 7th Battalion erupted in exclamations.
"He wants to fight two at once? Is he that arrogant?"
"If someone like this becomes our sergeant, I don’t think I’ll survive to see next year."
"Does he think everyone’s as weak as Webber?"
Dick, noticing the rising tension, wanted to speak up to dissuade Viserys, but ultimately, he held his tongue.
Dick wasn’t worried that Viserys wouldn’t be able to win; his concern was that victory might come at too high a cost in terms of popularity. If Viserys won, the two Gerrolds would be humiliated, unable to hold their heads up again, which could breed resentment. If he lost, he’d forfeit the Valyrian steel sword and be subjected to ridicule. Either outcome seemed less than ideal.
But Viserys saw things differently. ‘Hated for winning? That’s only because you’re not strong enough,’ he thought. ‘When you’re strong enough, hatred melts away like snow in the sun.’
Seeing Black Gerrold hesitate, Viserys raised the stakes. "What’s the matter? Don’t want to fight? Even if you both attack at once, my offer still stands!"
Already fired up, the two Gerrolds didn’t need further encouragement. They attacked Viserys simultaneously from opposite sides, and the fight was on.
As the battle unfolded, the two Gerrolds quickly realized that Viserys was faster and more agile than they had anticipated. Their attempts to coordinate were ineffective—each time one tried to strike, the other inadvertently blocked or got in the way. Anxiety crept in as they recognized the risk of losing, but with anxiety came mistakes.
Sensing their growing desperation, Viserys exploited their weaknesses. He deftly slipped between them, delivered a swift kick to Black Gerrold, sending him sprawling, and brought his sword to rest against Redback Gerrold’s neck.
"Well done!" Regis was the first to cheer, his applause echoing through the camp. This time, Jorah’s clapping wasn’t out of obligation; it carried genuine admiration.
The mercenaries of the 7th Battalion were stunned. They hadn’t expected their new, young sergeant to be so formidable. No wonder he’d dared to fight two men at once—he clearly had the skills to back it up.
Dick watched the faces of the two Gerrolds, noting their discomfort. But when Viserys extended a hand to help Black Gerrold up, he accepted it, knowing that refusing would only make him look like a sore loser. Webber, observing from the sidelines, suddenly realized that Viserys had been holding back during their duel, allowing him to save his reputation.
Darsent set aside his earlier contempt, while Baqq acknowledged that Viserys’s strength far exceeded his expectations.
"Lord Viserys is the champion of the Braavos Swordsmanship Tournament. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of in losing to him!" Regis, not content with mere cheering, made sure to highlight Viserys’s title.
The sergeants were already aware of Viserys’s victory in Braavos, but this was news to the rank-and-file mercenaries. A wave of chatter spread through the crowd.
"The Braavos Swordsmanship Tournament? Champion? Is that true?"
"No wonder he beat two men. Maybe having a sergeant like him isn’t so bad."
"Sure, but a swordsmanship tournament is still a far cry from a real battle."
The remarks varied, but it was clear that the doubts and contempt that had greeted Viserys were beginning to fade.
Yet, Viserys wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to cement his authority not just among the mercenaries, but also among the sergeants. He needed to make it clear that his martial skills were beyond challenge, that opposing him was futile, and that his command of the 7th Battalion was absolute.
"If anyone of you wishes to challenge me, I’m ready!" Viserys declared, scanning the crowd. Some of the men still harbored thoughts of testing him, but after seeing him defeat both Gerrolds at once, many decided against it. Challenging him now would seem presumptuous, even foolish.
Caggo, the tall man with the curved sword, stood in the crowd, his thumb absently rubbing the hilt as he weighed his options. Many eyes turned toward him, wondering what he would do.
Seeing no immediate takers, Viserys raised the stakes once more. "You can all come at me together. If you defeat me, you can still claim my Valyrian steel sword!" His voice was calm, but his tone was laced with temptation as he looked around the assembled mercenaries.
