NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 63: Fate of a Courtesan
The results of the competition reached Tormo in less than twenty minutes. Unlike his busy older and younger brothers, the second son, Andersen, continued to serve him tea and water.
"You handle this. I have only one request: make sure this guy dies in the arena," Tormo commanded Vitus.
"Understood!"
In Tormo's eyes, Viserys had declared himself an enemy, and it was crucial to eliminate him quickly. This move might help him ally with Robert and secure more weapons and ships for his house.
Seeing his older brother favored by their father, Andersen felt a sense of urgency. He knew he had to act or risk losing any chance to change his fate.
Meanwhile, the Zalyne couple also heard about the competition's outcome. Roth, gently stroking his wife's growing belly, was still processing the news.
"This Viserys is exceptional in martial arts," he remarked.
"And they're both beautiful and intelligent," Methys added, recounting Viserys's achievements. "I hope our child will be like them."
She touched her belly, her eyes filled with hope. Following Viserys's advice, her complexion had improved significantly, her cheeks now white and rosy, which only increased Roth's desire for her. However, he restrained himself, mindful of her condition.
"Roth, we should consider marrying our children to this brother and sister, regardless of gender," Methys suggested.
"Marrying them?"
"Yes, they're of pure Valyrian blood, beautiful, and intelligent. Plus, Viserys is a valuable ally for our house."
"Alright, but you must take good care of your health and have a healthy child," Roth said, kissing her forehead. He liked the idea but had concerns. If Viserys still aimed to restore his kingdom, they would have to rethink. If Viserys chose to remain in Braavos and live as a wealthy man, the match could be considered. However, if he pursued his former ambitions, he would be too risky an ally.
On the other side, Helbo, who had been busy for two days, also heard of Viserys' victory. He wasn't surprised. Viserys had tasked him with protecting those who played his song from harassment. His men could only operate on the periphery, yet "The Sailor" was sung everywhere, especially at the docks, where the song had almost become a nuisance. Feeling he had done little, Helbo hired people to sing it for Viserys. With the next round of the tournament approaching, he had decided to bet on Viserys.
Morel and his son personally oversaw the production of Viserys' armor and weapons, spending nearly a quarter of their fortune. Morel even purchased extra gems for the armor.
"Father, we don't need to put gems in Lord Viserys' armor. They could cause problems in battle," his son cautioned.
Recalling Rhaegar's fate at Ruby Ford, Morel reconsidered. "What do you suggest?"
"Why not craft another weapon of the design Lord Viserys created, using the finest steel?"
"Agreed."
Morel placed an additional order for two halberds and a suit of steel armor for Viserys, incorporating necessary decorations. The three dragons on the armor were trimmed with gold, epitomizing one word: Cool!
...
On the day after Viserys' victory, several small mercenary groups approached him with invitations, but he declined them all. By then, he was already aboard Falia's ship, preparing for the next song.
As soon as Viserys arrived, Asha couldn't take her eyes off him.
"Has the theme for the next song been sent yet?" he asked.
"Yes, it should be coming soon. Let's wait a bit longer," Asha replied.
With time to spare, Viserys started chatting with Falia.
"Lady Moonshadow, if you win the final, how will you celebrate?"
"Celebrate?" Falia looked a bit dazed, an unreadable expression in her eyes. "I should be invited to House Zalyne castle."
Falia had been raised as a Courtesan and knew the unspoken rules: winning the competition for House Zalyne would lead to in-depth cooperation, and to ensure her loyalty, House Zalyne would take away her purity. If questioned, the house would vouch for her but disobedience was not an option.
Unaware of this, Viserys didn't press the topic when Falia seemed keen to change it. They shifted their conversation to Sellswords and their grievances, though Falia's knowledge was mostly second-hand.
As time passed, the awaited theme for the next round of poetry did not arrive. Falia grew increasingly puzzled, knowing Viserys was supposed to participate in the next round. The delay meant less time for Viserys to compose. Though he had taken less than an hour to create "Sailor" last time, Falia wondered if it had been a fluke—a case of a blind cat hitting a dead mouse. She wasn't sure if he would be as fortunate in the next round.
In fact, Falia was right. Viserys had composed the song in advance. Not just one, but hundreds, perhaps even thousands of songs. As a mercenary, often isolated from civilization and under constant pressure, he had developed songwriting as a necessary hobby to stave off boredom.
Thus, Viserys remained calm and even enjoyed the night view, while Falia grew increasingly anxious, repeatedly sending Asha to check for news.
After three or four hours with no updates, Asha's anxiety peaked. "What should we do? There are less than three hours left, and the deadline for submitting the song has passed," she said urgently.
Viserys, however, was unsurprised. He had anticipated that House Fregar would cause trouble but hadn't expected them to stoop so low. This delay could jeopardize his chances of obtaining the dragon egg.
Finally, after another quarter of an hour, the messenger arrived, covered in mud and bruises, as if he had been in an accident. "Sorry, Lady Moonshadow, our carriage overturned," he explained breathlessly.
Falia wasted no time and urged him to quickly hand over the theme to Viserys. The messenger, still self-blaming, couldn’t comprehend how the accident had occurred. The axle had broken mid-journey.
Handing over the theme, the messenger looked at Viserys with a mix of curiosity and respect. He knew Viserys as the composer of "Sailor," a song he admired. However, he doubted how anyone could create a worthy song in just two hours under such pressure.
