####
Braavos,
The game was simple. Bronn had divided his plan into two steps. The first one was to woo the poor and smallfolk, and then target the rich merchants. Both groups required something different.
To the rich, Bronn dangled a lure. But to the poor, he dangled dreams, hopes. After all, the merchants already had the coin; they only dreamed of more coin. But the poor had nothing more than coin; they just wanted a better life.
So, with the Sealord's permission, Bronn decided to hold a few gatherings across the city. It was free for all, but more than that, he made sure to provide free food. The merchants and the rich wouldn't bother coming. But the poor would come for some free food.
"You will stand at my side, Unella," said Bronn, hands resting at her waist, while the tall woman set his robes in order for the preaching. "Ser Florent shall tend the food station. By the Seven, a riot may rise if folk aren't guided."
"And me?" asked Malora from a nearby seat, already dressed in septa robes.
"You will keep the cauldron warm and the draughts flowing. We shall need plenty once the preaching is done. If we mean to open their hearts to the Seven, we must show them what the holy blessing truly can stir."
After that, Bronn drank a few potions that improved his concentration and made him calmer at the same time. He understood that he was in foreign lands and there could be sudden surprises.
Soon enough, guarded by the Angelic Knights, he arrived at the large arena where usually some playhouses acted out their pieces. But that day, the stage belonged to only Bronn. The arena was packed tight, not a single seat left out. Men and women of all colors and features mumbled with each other in various languages.
That's another problem.
Because of the different languages, it was going to be hard for Bronn to preach everywhere. For that, he planned on getting some books written and translated.
"By the Seven's grace, all of us are here for this preaching." Bronn started from the stage, his voice magically loud, leaving plenty confused and wondering. "Many forget the Faith of the Seven was born in Essos among the Andals who made their homes in the hills of Andolas, not too far from here. So I give this sermon to return their sacred wisdom to its birthplace."
At the start, Bronn had nothing special planned. He wanted the people to grow bored with his preaching. He still tried to tell interesting stories, however. But as the masses started to show signs of boredom and losing interest, he decided to give them a shock.
"Bring your blessing upon this land,
Heal the bodies and hearts with your hands.
O' Seven above, bless your servant,
In this land of trade, I am your light's merchant."
It was a common trick, but that was in Westeros. He raised his right hand and cast that light magic. As soon as the glow appeared, all the people watching rose to their feet. It was such a simple yet magical thing.
No candle or fire could replicate what Bronn had. No trick could produce that kind of uniform and bright light. It looked like a star in someone's hand.
And, just as expected, many in the crowd started praying. Some still prayed to whichever god they followed; However, many were interested in the Seven.
"Accept the light that seeks to warm your hearts,
From Father to Stranger, accept all the parts.
This is the moment of arrival, the reckoning,
The Seven roar through light, hear, it is deafening."
That magic spell had a second variant as well. The light could grow bigger, stronger, warmer. It was blinding, so great that even Bronn had to shut his eyes. But the reaction was instant. Every single man and woman in the crowd fell to their knees, breaking into prayers. Many prayed to the Seven.
Ah, Essos… I'm going to love this damned land.
After that preaching, Bronn left the stage. As the crowds went outside, they found Angelic Knights overseeing the food distribution. Since Bronn didn't want to waste coin on buying bowls and such, he used grains and rice and made cakes from them, adding very little salt and sugar for some taste.
It was a basic meal that could be made into balls and eaten with one's hands. It also removed the need for bowls and plates. Each worshipper received a cake one by one, fast and hassle-free.
Bronn, on the other hand, received a few sick men and women and healed them with potions or simple magic. Even in cases where he couldn't do anything, his potions helped reduce the pain.
Only a matter of time before the fat-pocketed fucks come sniffing.
He planned to continue.
####
Other than what he was already doing, the best way to convert a large population was to convert the influential. Famous merchants, famous sellswords, guards of the city, the Sealord himself, the playhouse actors, and of course, the famous courtesans.
Converting all of Braavos required a multifaceted attack. And he did just that.
After holding five gatherings where he preached, the merchants and the rich finally started to show some interest. From Ser Florent, he found out the name of the city's most sought-after courtesan.
When Bronn heard more about the woman's history, he felt the need to take her and make her moan the Maiden's name day and night. Bellegere Otherys, she was called. Her other name was Black Pearl, but some said this one was more brown than black.
The story was truly fascinating.
Many years ago, the granddaughter of the Sealord roamed around as a smuggler, trader, and occasional pirate. At that time, she met with Prince Aegon Targaryen and had an affair with him that lasted ten years. The prince later went on to become Aegon IV Targaryen.
Bellegere gave birth to three children during that decade, two girls and a boy. Of them, Bellenora became a famous courtesan, taking the name of Black Pearl of Braavos, a tradition that was continued.
Now, the current Black Pearl was also named Bellegere, and she had Targaryen blood in her, albeit highly diluted. And that simple fact made Bronn excited because of all the women he could bed in Westeros, he couldn't find a Targaryen, as they were all dead. There was that princess, but he didn't have the patience or the desire to find her. He reckoned she'd already be spoiled by now, if not dead.
That night, Bronn dressed up neatly and, under the protection of his men, went to see this Black Pearl. He'd used that time to learn about the other famous courtesans of Braavos. Each had a different flavor to offer.
Different from whores, courtesans were more akin to false lovers, who were educated, refined, and provided companionship, music, poetry, dance, entertainment, and sex to wealthy, powerful, and noble clients. They could also choose their clients and terms, and even refuse sex if they felt like it.
But it was also true that these women didn't take many new patrons. Their secret to wealth was forming long-term relationships with a few wealthy men.
Where do I fall?
Bronn pondered on the way. He had a massive castle of his own. He had substantial wealth. He could get the King to kneel to him.
Should be enough for a damned whore's cunt.
He had no plan to be forceful, however. Bellegere was well-known, and gossip from her chambers could spread all over the city. He had to ensure it was good gossip. And even more, she takes the Faith of the Seven.
"Wealthy." He eyed the mansion his men had brought him to. It had three floors and stood in a beautiful, clean street with a lot of plants and torches. "Guard the entrance."
Just as he approached the door, it opened, and the servants inside greeted him with a deep bow of their heads. He saw the signs; there was reverence in their eyes, likely regulars in his preaching.
"May the Seven's light guide us, my friends." Bronn greeted the servants, giving them the same respect he'd give a noble. That was what set him apart, what made the smallfolk love him. "I hear the famed beauty of Braavos seeks my company. By the Seven, I feel like a courtesan meeting her eager caller."
Yes, Bronn was invited that evening. He didn't know who had set up that meeting, but the woman wanted to see him.
The servants laughed at his playful remark and led him inside. The servants were all women, and the only men he noticed seemed more eunuch than Varys. They all had bald heads, sleek faces, built like warriors, holding poles in their hands.
"Your Holiness, my Lady Otherys knows many stories of you. She holds a great fondness for tales of Westeros. She wanted to see you at the preaching, but it would have caused a riot," the servant explained. "As soon as she learned you give healing to any ailed, she hoped she might invite you herself."
"Is she sick?"
"We asked the same, but she refuses to explain her troubles. Please heal her, your holiness. Lady Otherys is sweet and kind, but she refuses to see all the patrons now."
Interesting. An ailed whore, that's a bad omen. Better not put my cock in her.