Chapter 2: The First Prank and the First Plan
The Dothraki camp sprawled under the relentless Essosi sun, its tents flapping like tired sails in the dry, dusty wind. The air carried the scent of roasted goat, horse sweat, and the faint tang of blood from the pyre battle. Adam lounged on a pile of looted furs, his invisible Witcher armor cool against his skin, layered over a borrowed Dothraki tunic that smelled faintly of leather and spice. His HUD glowed faintly in his vision:
[SYSTEM: LEVEL 3, 200K GOLD, SIGNS: AARD, IGNI, QUEN, AXII, YRDEN.]
He sipped spiced wine, its sharp bite tingling his tongue, and watched Daenerys across the camp. She stood with Jorah, her silver hair catching the sunlight, her dragons curled like living jewels at her feet, their tiny scales glinting. She's got fire, Adam thought, but I'm bringing the chaos.
[SYSTEM: SYSTEM NPC DETECTED. TRADER, 50 PACES NORTH.]
Adam's eyes flicked to a wiry man in a hooded cloak, a faint blue glow marking him as system-generated. The trader's stall brimmed with oddities—vials of shimmering liquid, bundles of desert herbs, and a Gwent deck that practically sang to Adam's gamer instincts. He sauntered over, dodging a curious goat that nibbled at his boot, its bleat earning a chuckle. "Got cards as good as my charm?" he asked, grinning. The trader's eyes glinted, his voice flat but game-like. "Play me, and find out. Gold or gear on the line." Adam pulled his Northern Kingdoms deck, its cards glowing in his HUD, each one a familiar friend from countless Witcher nights. The match was swift—his Geralt card outmaneuvered the trader's Scoia'tael ambush, clinching victory with a satisfying flourish. [SYSTEM: +500 GOLD, +1 RARE CARD: DANDELION.]
Adam pocketed the card, its image shimmering in his inventory. "Cards over swords, any day," he said, smirking.
He strolled back to the camp, the sun baking the sand under his boots. Viserys strutted past, whining to a Dothraki warrior about his "rightful throne," his golden crown tilted, his voice shrill as a petulant child's. Adam's prank itch flared like a lit fuse, his fingers twitching with anticipation. He activated Axii, the sign's energy pulsing through him, warm and electric. Viserys froze mid-rant, his eyes glazing over, then turned and bowed deeply to a nearby horse, its mane tangled with dust. "My liege," he muttered, his voice dazed. The Dothraki gaped, then burst into laughter, slapping their thighs, their rough voices echoing. Adam doubled over, clutching his sides, tears of mirth in his eyes. "Bow to that horse, Your Grace, it's got more claim to the throne." Daenerys glanced over, her lips twitching, a spark of amusement in her violet eyes. Jorah's scowl deepened, his hand resting on his sword. "You mock a Targaryen," he growled, his voice low. Adam shrugged, unfazed, his grin wide. "Mocking's free, Ser Frowns-a-Lot. Try smiling, it won't kill you."
Jorah's POV: Adam's antics grated like sand in a wound, each jest a spark in the camp's fragile tinder. The man fought like a demon, his blade and strange powers cutting down Dothraki with ease, but his pranks risked chaos. Daenerys' amusement baffled Jorah—her soft laugh at Viserys' humiliation was a rare sound, but dangerous, like a crack in a dam. What is he? Jorah thought, watching Adam toss a coin to a passing child with casual ease, the boy's eyes lighting up. A jester with a blade? A sorcerer? His loyalty to Daenerys held firm, but Adam was a puzzle he couldn't trust, a wild card in a game of thrones.
Adam approached Daenerys, offering her a skewer of roasted meat, its spices wafting temptingly, the meat glistening with fat. "Essosi BBQ, Dany. Better than dragon fire," he said, his tone playful. She took it, her fingers brushing his, her violet eyes studying him with a mix of caution and curiosity. "You're no sellsword," she said, her voice probing, her dragons chirping softly. Adam grinned, his HUD flashing a crafting prompt. "Just a guy with tricks. Watch this." He opened his alchemy table, a mental grid glowing in his mind, and mixed desert herbs with a drop of milk of the poppy, its scent sharp and medicinal. A Silver Sword Diagram materialized in his inventory, its blueprint glowing. "Need a forge," he muttered, then turned to Daenerys, his voice light. "Stick with me, Dany, I've got dragons beat in style." Her laugh was soft, genuine, like a breeze in the desert heat. "You're bold, Adam Stiels," she said, her eyes sparkling. He leaned closer, winking. "Bold's my middle name. Also, I'm building an empire. Wanna help?" Her smile widened, but she tilted her head. "An empire? You barely seem awake." Adam chuckled, his voice low. "That's the plan—build it, then nap."
He wandered the camp, his boots kicking up dust, his eyes scanning for potential. The Dothraki watched him warily, their whispers a mix of fear and awe. Sorcerer. Savior. Madman. Adam didn't care—he had a system, gold, and a dragon queen to charm. His HUD pinged:
[SYSTEM: QUEST: RECRUIT FIRST WITCHER.]
He spotted a skinny orphan boy scavenging scraps near a tent, his ribs sharp under tattered cloth. The system assessed:
[SYSTEM: CANDIDATE ASSESSED. 75% SUCCESS CHANCE.]
Adam crouched, tossing the boy an apple, its red skin gleaming in the sunlight. "Kid, want a new life? It's risky, but beats starving." The boy's eyes widened, hope flickering in his gaunt face. Adam met his gaze, his tone serious but kind. "You'll be strong, like me. But you gotta survive." The boy nodded, clutching the apple. Adam activated the portal, a shimmering gate of blue light swallowing the boy whole. "Ten days, kid," he called. "Don't die."
[SYSTEM: WITCHER CREATION INITIATED.]
This system's my cheat code, Adam thought, his mind buzzing with possibility. Save Dany, build Witchers, live easy. But if Viserys keeps whining, I'm pranking him into next week. He found a small forge in the camp, its heat stinging his face, the air thick with coal and metal. He crafted the silver sword, its blade gleaming like moonlight, sharp enough to cut through bone. The camp buzzed with life—Dothraki sharpening blades, dragons chirping, Daenerys' voice rising in quiet command. Adam leaned back, sipping wine, his Gwent deck warm in his pocket. Retirement's looking sweet, he thought, his grin wide. The stars blinked above, and for now, he was content to plan, prank, and charm his way through Essos.