"Hurry! Hurry! Drop the squad packs! Don't waste time!"
"We need more people digging the forward base! Don't just charge in like idiots!"
On Island No. 9, the forward outpost of Braavos, players and legion soldiers launched wave after wave of attacks.
One group of players fell, and another rushed up to take their place, launching an endless offensive that seemed impossible to exhaust or kill off.
From the moment Storm-Cloud-Split led his men to establish a beachhead base, the fall of the island became only a matter of time.
"Charge! If we make it, we're legends! If we don't, it's gruel for dinner!"
"For House Targaryen!"
"You want to get rich? Start collecting heads!"
The fanatical offensive, resembling a boundless tide, made it impossible for the defenders to hold their ground. Island No. 9 surrendered.
The surviving mercenaries were conscripted into the Penal Battalion and followed the main force, launching an almost non-stop attack on Island No. 10.
With the forward base maintained by the players, the Dragon Army had no need to worry about the surrounding islands. Their posture of striking straight for the heart of the enemy left the nobles of Braavos unable to eat by day or sleep by night.
Meanwhile, at the Ragman's Harbor in Braavos, a spirited man disembarked from a merchant ship flying the banner of Lys.
It was the player "Jiang-Gan-Who-Stole-Xiao-Qiao," a legendary player who had previously forced the city-state of Lorath to defect by posing as an envoy, and was subsequently appointed as the Assistant Minister of Foreign Affairs by Brother Wei.
The Company of the Cat. A powerful mercenary group boasting three thousand infantry.
Their commander, Bloodbeard, had forged a blood feud with the Windblown in the Disputed Lands. Bloodbeard had sworn more than once in front of his subordinates that he would personally chop off the Tattered Prince's head, stick it on a spear, and keep it as a trophy.
Bloodbeard was a loud, savage brute of a man, tall and heavily bearded. It was said he dyed his beard red with the blood of enemies who died by his hand, hence the nickname.
Cruel by nature and addicted to killing, Bloodbeard coveted glory and treasure, was extremely lecherous, and had zero interest in peace. He longed for one war after another.
However, in a war where his side was clearly the underdog, Bloodbeard usually made the pragmatic choice.
If his nemesis, the Tattered Prince, hadn't already taken his damn Windblown to kiss Viserys's boots early on, Bloodbeard wouldn't have minded seizing Braavos right now to sell it to the Beggar King for a good price.
But now, things were difficult. Watching the Dragon Army press closer step by step, taking a camp a day, it was clear that the wealthy but useless fools of Braavos wouldn't be able to hold out.
Should I take the opportunity to rob them blind?
The wealth of the Iron Bank was rumored to be a mountain of gold. If he looted it, who cared if the Company of the Cat's reputation stank? With fistfuls of gold, he could recruit soldiers and horses, perhaps even proclaim himself a king.
Bloodbeard was currently cuddling a woman and drinking with his subordinates. Usually the loudest person at a banquet, his silence today made his men curious.
Just then, a trusted aide walked into the tent, hurried to his side, and without shying away from the disheveled woman in his arms, whispered:
"There's a Targaryen envoy outside. Do you want to see him?"
Bloodbeard was stunned for a moment, then nodded as he realized the implication.
"Let him in."
Bloodbeard wasn't stupid. If they were sending someone now, didn't that mean they wanted to win him over? In that case, he needed to open his mouth wide like a lion.
Whether he did the job or not was a separate issue; pay up first. Bloodbeard had done this kind of thing more than once. Right now, he was still taking Braavosi gold while squatting in his camp, refusing to send out a single soldier.
He had it all figured out. Let someone else be a loyal mercenary. As long as he could squeeze benefits from both sides in this war, the reputation of the mercenary company wasn't worth a fart.
"Do you know what happens to people who interrupt my fun?"
Inside the command tent, the brutal commander with the long braided beard deliberately put on a look of displeasure as he stared at the uninvited guest.
If the man was a coward who could be easily scared, it would be easier to demand an exorbitant price.
"I come here for two reasons: first, for the lives of you and your three thousand soldiers; second, for your wealth and glory."
The uninvited guest, Jiang Gan, slowly lowered his hood, looking at the tiger-eyed brute with a faint smile.
"You have a death wish!"
"This sword of mine has taken forty-six heads. Do you want to be the forty-seventh?"
As soon as Jiang Gan finished speaking, the key officers of the Company of the Cat rose from their seats, drawing their weapons and shouting threats.
"If you can kneel while you speak to me, I think my brothers might be a little more polite to you!" Bloodbeard raised his wine cup, his gaze sweeping the visitor up and down.
Jiang Gan chuckled aloud.
"What are you laughing at?" Bloodbeard was confused. Did he not look ferocious enough? Were his men too gentle? Shouldn't this guy be afraid? What did the laugh mean?
"There is no precedent for an envoy of House Targaryen to bow to the lord of a minor state. Furthermore, you are neither the Sealord of Braavos nor do you hold a noble title.
I come representing House Targaryen. It is you who should kneel to me."
Jiang Gan held his head high. Facing the chaotic dance of demons around him—the officers eager to cut him down—he spoke with utter arrogance.
"Is the envoy not afraid of death?"
Someone stepped forward and pressed a sword against Jiang Gan's neck, shouting a threat.
"May I ask, as the commander of the Company of the Cat, known as Bloodbeard... are you afraid of death?"
With a blade against his skin, Jiang Gan spoke with composure:
"My Dragon Lords have tens of thousands of troops at your flank. A tiny state like Braavos will be incinerated in an instant under the True Dragon's wrath. What chance does a small warlord like you, clinging to Braavos, stand?"
Bloodbeard narrowed his eyes. He was a bit triggered. He hated these high-and-mighty nobles the most because he wasn't one. Although he had three thousand soldiers, he would forever be just a mercenary captain.
"Take him down. I want to gouge out his eyes personally," Bloodbeard stared at Jiang Gan, enunciating every word.
"Hahahaha!"
There was no blustering facade, no kneeling for mercy, no forced bravery. Just a burst of mocking laughter.
Bloodbeard grew even angrier. Suppressing his rage, he repeated:
"I will gouge out your eyes personally, then cut out your tongue. I will make you die in the most painful way possible. Are you not afraid?"
"Pity that you are about to die as well. With the three thousand men of the Company of the Cat to accompany me to the grave, why should I be afraid?" Jiang Gan stood with his hands behind his back, then pivoted:
"Come on! Where are the torture tools? Hurry up, gouge my eyes, cut my tongue!"
Bang!
Bloodbeard slammed the table and stood up:
"I have three thousand horses and men. How could I die?"
"My Lord has tens of thousands of elite soldiers. A natural fortress like Braavos has been swept aside like dry twigs by the Dragon Army. The day the city falls is right before your eyes. Even the dignified Sealord is a prisoner. What can you hide behind?
Will adding your three thousand wandering ghosts make a difference?"
Jiang Gan replied with disdain.
"Let him go!"
Bloodbeard's expression shifted, and he ordered his angry subordinates to release Jiang Gan.