NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 76: One Last Effort
The final of the Swordsmanship Tournament was held the next morning. Inside the Sevenstar Theater, used as the main arena, chaos reigned. Many commoners who had gathered outside the theater hadn't left since the previous day. Among them was Jorah, once again.
Jorah's purse was nearly empty, and he didn't know how to place his bets. Having been the Lord of Bear Island, a mercenary, and a slave trader after fleeing Westeros, he had a keen understanding of human dynamics. He believed there was no room for maneuver between Viserys and House Fregar. The Fregars had paid a high price and couldn't afford to back down in the final, while Viserys wouldn't tolerate their actions against him.
Despite Viserys's rapid rise over the past half year, Jorah still favored the Fregars, whose roots in Braavos ran deep and strong. However, he hadn't yet seen the limits of Viserys's abilities.
Taking a silver moon out of his pocket, he muttered, "Fregar is heads, Viserys is tails." Flicking the coin with his thumb, the bright silver reflected the dazzling sunlight. Jorah spread his hands and looked at it...
...
Compared to Jorah's confusion, Helbo was elated. He had one steadfast rule: bet unconditionally on Viserys's victory. This strategy had already netted him nearly 4,000 gold dragons—almost as much as he had earned in the past two prosperous years combined.
Helbo wisely kept his initial stake intact and distributed the winnings among his men, ensuring no one became too greedy. He had even planned to use some of his earnings to buy two fine horses for himself, essential for a sellsword's mobility.
Inside the theater, the atmosphere differed markedly from the bustling commoners outside, who were betting and enjoying the spectacle. The theater's audience was composed of wealthy individuals eager to witness history. Viserys was poised to become the first "double champion" in over a hundred years.
"They say Targaryens are either mad or great. Viserys is definitely the latter!" remarked one spectator.
"Yes, and he doesn't look crazy at all," agreed another.
Viserys had no shortage of admirers in the crowd.
"Hmph, ruling a country and mastering swordsmanship are two different things. How many Targaryens have fled to the Free Cities over the past century?" a skeptic retorted.
"That's not the same thing. Viserys is a true Targaryen; those others were just pretenders!" a fan countered.
Overall, Viserys's supporters were in the majority.
"This time, the final features another House Fregar swordsman. Let's hope they don't resort to underhanded tactics again," said a young man under twenty.
"Don't talk nonsense!" his companion whispered urgently.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the chatter. "Look! It's Lady Moonshadow!"
Heads turned as people spotted Falia in a high room. With her successful soap sales and the popularity of Viserys's songs, Falia had earned the title of "the most beautiful courtesan." The beauty pageant wasn't just about physical appearance; it was about having a discerning eye. She had "discovered" Viserys's genius and sold soap that became a Braavosi specialty—a significant achievement. Though Falia felt she hadn't done much, her wealth had skyrocketed.
Waving to the audience below, Falia then noticed Lady Poetess, who was present only to represent House Antaryon. Their interaction was cordial. However, when Falia saw Lady Nightingale, she noticed something peculiar. Gortave was wearing a veil and sitting motionless, which struck Falia as odd. Yet, she dismissed it, focusing instead on the day's main event: Viserys's competition.
"It's the Sealord's Palace!" someone exclaimed.
As the most important competition of the Ten-Day Festival, Ferrego's presence was essential. Yesterday's incident had dealt a significant blow to Ferrego and marred the celebration. Fortunately, Viserys' three songs had mitigated the damage. There could be no further issues in the final round.
Roth and Tormo accompanied Ferrego. "Qarro, have you dealt with the swordsman from yesterday?" Ferrego asked directly, in Tormo's presence. Despite House Fregar being the most powerful of the three houses, Ferrego, as Sealord, needed to assert his authority.
"Yes, Sealord, he has been banished from Braavos," Qarro replied.
"Good. Lord Tormo, be more careful in the future."
"I will remember your kindness, my lord," Tormo responded with a stern expression.
At this point, Roth, who had been silent, joked, "I see that Lord Qarro is very interested in Viserys."
"I'm getting old, and I can't help but be impressed by talented young people. I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord," Qarro replied.
"Sometimes I even think my apprentices aren't very good. If Viserys could be the Sealord's First Sword, that would be great," Qarro added, unobtrusively patting Ferrego on the back.
"Haha, that's an interesting idea, but I heard that Viserys is planning to join a mercenary group," Ferrego said.
'Join a mercenary group?' Ferrego thought. It seemed this young man intended to build an army with his abilities. However, while he was an excellent swordsman, building an army was a different challenge. His predecessor, 'Bittersteel' Aegor, had created the Golden Company but was ultimately left on the continent of Essos. In Ferrego's opinion, Viserys was likely to become the next "Bittersteel."
A chill flashed in Tormo's eyes. 'After going against me, he thinks he can just leave? There's no such thing as a free lunch,' he thought.
Roth, observing their reactions, added, "This Viserys seems very interested in the dragon eggs. If you want him to stay, you might try using the dragon eggs."
"Haha, then he must be the most expensive swordsman in the world," Ferrego laughed. Rumors suggested he owned three dragon eggs, but the Sealord had always denied it. Even the dragon egg that was the prize this time had been redeemed through the Iron Bank. Whether Ferrego actually possessed a dragon egg remained a mystery.
Soon, a short blast of the horn signaled the start of the final. The previously boisterous crowd fell silent and focused their attention on the temporary arena built on the stage.
