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"Excellent. But even though we've scored a phased victory, I don't think it's enough. If we want to wipe out every last pocket of resistance inside Braavos and crush anyone still stupid enough to oppose Brother Wei, the secret police need to step up and deliver something legendary."
Pointing-Rat-Calling-It-Duck swept the keys on his desk into the drawer with a loud clatter. Those keys—pulled straight out of tortured prisoners—could open every other hidden vault the Iron Bank had stashed across the city. No way he was letting those go.
He stood up, hands clasped behind his back, and gave his orders to Flying Bat.
"Yes, sir! You can count on me!"
Flying Bat snapped to attention.
At the same time, while the secret police and the Enforcement Squad's blue-robed goons were running wild through the city with the new players—turning the whole place into absolute chaos—
The veteran players and native soldiers in the barracks were all staring in open-mouthed wonder at the war elephants being dragged inside.
"Picture this—slap a siege tower on a war elephant's back. When it charges, archers on top rain arrows down like it's nobody's business..."
"And look at those wyverns tied up in the back. Holy shit."
"Goddamn, that's next-level official. They sold me on 'dragonrider' back when I joined and I bought it hook, line, and sinker. Now they're telling me dragonriders ride wyverns?!"
"These wyverns are perfect. Can't breathe fire? Fine. Just drop grenades from the sky—one bomb, one kill. Guaranteed."
Plenty of players were already playing armchair generals, pointing and dissecting the beasts like they were Sima Yi sending scouts to crack Zhuge Liang's empty-city trick.
"Make way, make way! Those three big-ass long-winged wyverns belong to Thunder Hall!"
Storm marched in with dozens of his guildmates, looking like a smug nouveau riche. He shoved players and soldiers aside and went straight for the three wyverns.
"Hey! Guild Leader Storm, that's bullshit. You paid for three, but we Holy Temple Knights paid too!"
Loves-Eating-Pineapple stepped up, smacked Storm's hand away, and declared, "No hard feelings, but we're taking the biggest, meanest one. First come, first served, boys. Sorry—plenty left. Pick another."
The second he finished, his right-hand man Red Dog led thirty or forty guild brothers to stand behind him, ready to throw down.
"Oh-ho. So the Holy Temple Knights really want to throw hands with Thunder Hall, huh?" Storm glanced back, saw he had more bodies, and decided his in-game friendship wasn't worth shit today.
Friendship is friendship. Guild interests are guild interests. Two completely different things.
"A bunch of idiots."
Storm-Cloud-Split stood off to the side with his arms crossed, watching coldly while his own crew hauled war elephants.
"Listen up, boys—we're taking exactly eight war elephants. Don't grab more, don't grab less!"
Sister-in-Law had a stalk of dogtail grass hanging from his mouth and was barking orders at twenty-odd players dragging elephants toward their camp.
"Don't worry, Sister-in-Law!"
"Now we've got real tanks. When are you gonna be tank captain, Sister-in-Law?"
Players had gotten so used to his game ID that they teased him with "Sister-in-Law" every chance they got.
"Oh, fuck off!" Sister-in-Law just laughed it off.
Over in their corner, the Royal Kingsguard Guild was working just as hard. Their vice-guild leader, Salted-Egg, was slick—he'd already dragged their two long-winged wyverns back to camp hours ago. Now he was straining against four war elephants.
"Brothers, put some damn muscle into it!"
"One-two-one! One-two-one!"
The lazy elephants were being dragged forward against their will to the rhythm of the chanting.
"Get 'em!"
Out of nowhere, the two groups squaring off in front of the long-winged wyverns started swinging. Nobody even knew who threw the first punch.
"Holy shit, live free-for-all brawl!"
"Fam, check this out—live stream of a hundred-man fistfight! Double-tap that 666!"
Part-time streamer players immediately swarmed in, eyes gleaming, cheering both sides on like it was the main event.
Thunder Hall's vice-guild leader, Steamed Bun Immortal, got straight-up mounted by Loves-Eating-Pineapple and eaten alive with punches. Teeth went flying into his stomach. The rest of them weren't doing much better in this all-out turtle-punch slugfest—teeth scattered everywhere.
"Hmph. They all look so badass when they're throwing hands. Then they're crawling around looking for their teeth and suddenly it's tears city."
Players kept gathering around, loving every second of the chaos.
The native soldiers watched with big grins from the sidelines.
Their officers didn't lift a finger to stop it. Viserys had told them from day one—these "Heavenly King's personal troops" could bash each other's brains in if they wanted. The locals were to stay out of it. The Enforcement Squad would handle cleanup.
"Clear the way! Clear the way!"
A squad of blue-robed enforcers permanently stationed in the barracks charged in swinging clubs, beating anyone who got in their path.
Some players tried to fight back, but unarmed against professionals, they got beaten offline one after another.
In the end the blue robes dragged off a bunch of suddenly very obedient troublemakers to the brig.
Loves-Eating-Pineapple and Storm weren't among them, of course. Those two still had enough pull to be a little reckless.
Even the blue robes—basically guests in the barracks—looked the other way.
The two who escaped the beatings didn't waste time. They marched straight to the Sealord's Palace, dead set on getting an explanation from Brother Wei himself.
They raised hell all the way to the palace doors, but Brother Wei was busy talking with his little sister who had just arrived from across the Narrow Sea. He had zero time for their drama.
In the end, Roland—the head of the White Cloaks—gave them a dirty suggestion: each take a sword and settle it like real men.
They agreed on the spot. Right there in front of the Sealord's Palace. After seven or eight rounds, Loves-Eating-Pineapple's skills slipped and Storm ran him through clean.
The three biggest long-winged wyverns went to Storm's Thunder Hall.
But that little sideshow was just a chuckle for Viserys. Right now he was proudly showing Daenerys around the private zoo he'd built for her inside the Sealord's Palace, her face glowing with pure delight.
"What's that?"
The fire wyrm coiled on the rockery made Daenerys cover her mouth in shock. Standing behind Viserys, she asked nervously.
"It's called a fire wyrm. Legend says it's a distant cousin of dragons. I think there's truth to it—even without wings, it breathes fire."
Viserys stood tall, one fist clenched over his chest, the other clasped behind his back, explaining the creature's origins and every old legend and ballad tied to it.
Daenerys's eyes shone, a soft light glowing in their depths. The old "Sleeping Dragon's wrath" was clearly long forgotten.
Now, when she looked at him, she saw only this ambitious yet dignified king of a brother.
"Look—it really can breathe fire..." Viserys snapped his fingers, excited. The fire wyrm reluctantly lifted its head and spat out a jet of dragonflame.
Daenerys clapped right on cue, her gaze full of admiration. Viserys felt a secret thrill.