Viserys Fort sat atop Viserys Hill, adjacent to the Upper Rhoyne. Given that the Velvet Hills were at a higher latitude than King's Landing, the climate was naturally cooler and more pleasant.
During the long summer, living in a hilltop castle like this was quite comfortable—certainly better than the dung heap that was King's Landing.
The windows of the council hall were open, admitting a cool breeze that carried the scent of the Rhoyne and the lush green fields of the Velvet Hills.
While everyone enjoyed the breeze, anger was igniting within the room.
Sitting at the head of the table, Viserys Targaryen watched the arguing Andal elders.
"Tyroshi... those bastards." Hearing the word "Tyroshi," the faces of all the Andal elders contorted with rage.
Besides anger, there was, of course, some fear.
"They constantly raid for slaves. Our villages are occasionally attacked as well."
"That is correct, Your Grace. After capturing our people and the Rhoynar, they sell them to pleasure houses, workshops, or shipyards..."
The Tyroshi had committed many atrocities, earning the deep-seated hatred of the Andals.
Viserys knew the Tyroshi were boisterous, flamboyant, and greedy.
Mercenaries, slaves, and pleasure houses were ubiquitous in Tyrosh. As long as the price was right, a Tyroshi would provide the service.
Tyroshi slavers were extremely aggressive; to capture slaves, they even sailed north Beyond the Wall to enslave wildlings.
Naturally, they didn't spare the Andals and Rhoynar.
Viserys watched the elders' reactions, capturing the changes in their expressions. It was perfect.
Although Lys and Myr also bought slaves, their methods weren't as ugly as the Tyroshi.
Where there is oppression, there is resistance.
And who but Viserys could ignite the fury of the Andals after being suppressed to the breaking point?
Their goals were ultimately aligned: Viserys wanted to restore his kingdom, and the Andals wanted to reverse their fate of being bullied and ravaged.
"Are the villages you mentioned the ones west of the Upper Rhoyne?" an Andal elder asked.
Bishop Ebony nodded. "Yes. I have connections with their septons, so I learned of their situation."
"Reasonably speaking, Andals are one family, and we should help them. However, these people have not shown sincerity in submitting to His Grace Viserys. To confront dangerous Tyroshi slavers for their sake... is it not a bit rash?" Another elder voiced a different opinion.
"We are villages east of the river. Things west of the river are always messy. And Tyroshi mercenaries are not to be trifled with," an Andal elder said worriedly.
"Look at you all. Where is our Andal courage?" Bishop Ebony mocked unceremoniously.
Tyrosh began as a Valyrian military outpost, so its martial culture was stronger than that of Myr or Lys. Tyroshi mercenaries had some skill.
Myrishmen were mediocre sailors and weak warriors, preferring daggers, short swords, crossbows, and often poison.
Lyseni were even more extreme. Typical Lyseni had blue eyes, platinum-blond curly hair, and smooth, fair skin. They were lovers, not fighters, and disdained heavy labor.
"If we don't defend Andal rights, who will?" the oldest Andal elder said. "If the villages on the west bank suffer, the slavers will soon target our villages on the east bank. If His Grace strikes now to save them, he will be their savior."
"Exactly," Ser Roland nodded. "As a knight, I say this: if we annihilate one slaver force, the others will learn fear."
"Braavosi hate all slavers. Slavers are evil," Syrio added.
"All righteous men are brothers. How can we ignore the suffering of others and remain indifferent? I have decided. We cross the Upper Rhoyne and destroy that band of slavers." Viserys's gaze swept across the council hall. His mind was made up.
His voice was like steel, his eyes flashing with sharp light.
"Kill."
"Revenge on the Tyroshi! For our enslaved brothers and sisters!"
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
The King had given the order. Even the most timid Andal elders chose to support it.
"Since we have decided to deploy troops, Bishop Ebony, please detail how many soldiers these slavers have," Viserys asked Ebony for the basic situation.
"Yes. From what I understand, there are about four or five slavers, accompanied by forty Tyroshi mercenaries..."
"Your Grace, to support your battle, we present the list of cavalry and soldiers from each village," an Andal elder said passionately.
These soldiers were meant to be integrated into Viserys's forces eventually, but the situation pushed the elders to offer them up immediately without holding back.
This was good. Viserys was confident he could forge these men into a cohesive unit through combat.
Although they hadn't dealt with Viserys for long, his credibility was already high—when it came to fighting, he really went in.
Tyroshi mercenaries weren't amateurs like the local Andal villagers; they had considerable combat power.
Viserys hadn't expected the second power he'd have to deal with in the Velvet Hills to be Tyroshi slavers.
To mold himself as the protector of the Andals, Rhoynar, and slaves—an incarnation of justice—he had to thrash these human traffickers.
---
At dusk, Viserys and Ser Roland led thirty fully equipped cavalrymen across a calm section of the Upper Rhoyne. This was his most elite cavalry force.
Behind the cavalry followed over a hundred of the most combat-capable infantry picked from the three centuries.
Besides Viserys and Roland, Bishop Ebony and some Andal elders accompanied them.
They hated the Tyroshi with a passion and wanted to see their enemies utterly destroyed.
Guiding the march was the Andal elder most familiar with the terrain.
When the troop passed an Andal village west of the river, they found houses burned and the people mostly gone.
Aside from the burnt houses, there were charred bodies of resisters in the village, emitting a strange stench.
The men who dared resist were killed; the slavers took the able-bodied men, women, and children.
Viserys looked at the devastating scene. These traffickers were truly evil to the core.
"It seems they've already struck," Bishop Ebony said grimly.
Judging by the scene and the direction of the hoofprints, the slavers' group hadn't gone far.
"Mind the torches. No loud noises. Don't expose our position," Viserys ordered.
The light in Viserys's eyes grew brighter. He wouldn't let a single one of these Tyroshi escape.
"We found their camp, to the northwest of the village," Ser Roland reported, having led the scouts himself. "The Tyroshi have set up camp and are drinking and having fun inside. Besides a palisade, they have one or two watchtowers, so I didn't get too close."
"Wait until it's darker," Viserys said.
In the last war, others attacked him; this time, Viserys was launching a surprise attack.
When night fell, the darkness would be their best camouflage.
Marching on the soil of the Velvet Hills, the warhorses were gagged, and the army moved as silently as possible.
Many Andal warriors felt their blood boiling, inevitably yearning to kill a few more slavers for revenge.
Viserys's dark scale armor was as dim as smoke. He wore a sword that had belonged to Ser Willem Darry, waiting for it to taste blood.
Even a lion uses its full strength to catch a rabbit. Viserys had already calculated his tactics.
Following Ser Roland, Viserys spotted the noisy camp beside a dirt road on the hill.
The Tyroshi had set up camp with a wooden palisade perimeter and patrols.
These careless men certainly didn't expect the Andals to dare besiege them.
Firelight flickered inside the camp, accompanied by the sound of women weeping.
"Now." Viserys calculated the time. It was the Hour of the Wolf, the darkest moment of the night.
Viserys raised his sword, target acquired, and moved.