Targaryen warships floated upon the Little Rhoyne.
Their masts were bare and stripped of sails, yet to Quairo they looked like beasts baring their claws.
He was escorted aboard Viserys's flagship.
When Quairo saw Illyrio standing beside Viserys, he immediately understood that the Braavosi army trapped at Gohor was finished—and along with it, very possibly, Freygo's rule.
Even so, as the Sea Lord's chief sword, Quairo believed he still had to try.
"Your Majesty Viserys, I am here on behalf of Braavos's commander, Tormo, to meet with you."
Viserys looked at Quairo. The last time they had met was in Braavos.
Had it been anyone else, Viserys might have used the same aggressive mockery as before, pressing them with repeated demands of "one million" just to humiliate them.
But Quairo was different. In some ways, he reminded Viserys of Arthur.
Viserys had no intention of buying him over, nor of disgracing him.
"Lord Quairo, why did Braavos invade my lands and slaughter my people? As a king, I must give them an answer."
Viserys spoke solemnly. A look of shame appeared on Quairo's face.
He was no shameless politician. He could not lie with a straight face.
"We were only following orders. I beg Your Majesty to show mercy and grant our soldiers some water."
"So you have decided to surrender?" Viserys asked.
Quairo instinctively wanted to say yes, but the thought that the surrender of forty to fifty thousand troops would shake Freygo's position made him hesitate.
Bracing himself, Quairo said,
"Your Majesty… I ask that you allow the soldiers of Braavos to withdraw. The Sea Lord will certainly provide a large sum of gold for the reconstruction of Gohor."
Viserys's expression turned cold at once.
"Hmph. You come when you please and leave when you please—do you think it is that easy?"
"Then… what does Your Majesty want?" Quairo asked quietly.
"Unconditional surrender, and Freygo's apology and reparations."
Each word fell like a massive weight upon Quairo's shoulders. "Your Majesty, what king apologizes to another king?"
"Then let Freygo be the first," Viserys replied without mercy.
"Your Majesty…" Quairo clenched his teeth, making one last attempt to fight for Freygo, "Are you not afraid of the Faceless Men's revenge?"
Though the words were a threat, Quairo kept his head lowered, not daring to meet Viserys's eyes.
Even so, the sentence ignited fury among Viserys's guards.
They all stepped forward at once, hands almost on their swords, ready to cut down this man who dared threaten their king.
Davos rose as well, equally furious.
King Daeron II had once been ambushed and killed by Dornishmen—Davos would never allow his young dragon king to meet a similar fate.
Viserys smashed the teacup in his hand onto the deck.
The crystal cup shattered into pieces.
"Then let them come! Come! Let me see whether your Faceless Men kill me first, or whether fifty thousand Braavosi die of hunger and thirst!"
Viserys roared, pointing toward Gohor in the east.
Being threatened like this was infuriating.
King Jaehaerys had once been threatened by Braavos with the Faceless Men as well.
And now it was happening again.
Viserys knew he could not show weakness.
The truth was that Braavos could not destroy Gohor, nor could Gohor destroy Braavos.
Viserys could kill those forty or fifty thousand men, but doing so would earn him an undying blood feud with Braavos.
In the future, he still intended to profit from Braavos through printing. Slaughtering all those soldiers was not in his interest.
He only wanted to use them as hostages to extract greater benefits.
Seeing Viserys's uncompromising stance, Quairo realized he might have made a grave mistake.
Threatening a king with death in front of his retainers left Viserys no choice but to respond with absolute defiance.
"Your Majesty, please forgive my careless words."
"Leave," Viserys said coldly. "We will meet again on the battlefield."
"Your Majesty?!"
"Throw him out!"
Viserys roared. The Faceless Men were infamous, and such a response would ease his followers' fear of them.
In the end, Quairo was driven off the ship.
Viserys then turned to Illyrio.
"You saw it yourself. This Quairo is nothing more than one of Freygo's guards, yet he dares threaten me, a king, with the Faceless Men. One day, he may threaten you the same way.
Are they not our common enemy?"
"You are right, Your Majesty," Illyrio replied.
The confrontation had made his heart pound.
He too believed Quairo had erred. Viserys was still young—perhaps too young to fully grasp what death meant.
Threatening him with something he did not fear was deeply unwise.
"I will send water to your army," Viserys said calmly. "Tomorrow morning, we annihilate the Braavosi army."
"By your command, Your Majesty."
A dejected Quairo returned to the camp.
The soldiers on watch were already at their limits.
They leaned weakly on their spears, barely standing, as if they might collapse at any moment.
The air was thick with anxiety and tension, like tinder dried to its breaking point.
A mass rout was only one step away.
As Quairo walked on, he saw a group of soldiers lying flat on the ground, doing something strange.
"My lord," a retainer said softly, "they must have found damp soil. Smelling wet earth can ease the throat a little."
Hearing this, Quairo swallowed painfully.
He looked at his retainer, whose lips were cracked from dryness.
When he spoke, it sounded as though his vocal cords might tear apart.
Suddenly, a mournful cry of an elephant echoed in the distance.
Quairo knew what that meant.
The soldiers were drinking elephant blood to ease their thirst. But blood only made the thirst worse.
At this point, the army's command structure had completely collapsed. It was like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff with bare hands, ready to fall at any moment.
Viserys would not even need to fight them. If he simply brought water, they would surrender on their own.
Quairo decided he had to get Tormo out of here.
A great noble like Tormo was far more valuable than common soldiers. He absolutely could not fall into Viserys's hands.
The Goose Mountains to the north were treacherous, but even that was better than captivity.
With that thought, Quairo quickened his pace.
Yet when he reached Tormo's tent, he heard a loud commotion inside.
"Let go of me! Let go!"
Quairo recognized Tormo's voice immediately—it sounded as though he was being restrained.
Quairo drew his sword and rushed inside.
He saw Tormo waving his blade wildly in the air while others clung to him desperately.
So the man had lost hope and was trying to kill himself.
But as commander, if he truly wished to die, no one would have been able to stop him.
So how had his suicide attempt been discovered at all?
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor