"Bandit suppression?"
Player Im_Actually_Cracked, who was fortunate enough to become the second-in-command and Vice Guild Leader of the Heroes Guild, put down the crossbow the Guild Leader had just bought and looked at the Third Young Master of the Lin Family, Storm_Dominator (Lin Yan).
"Mhm. According to those Magisters, we need to fight the bandits entrenched in the Flatlands and Ghoyan Drohe. For every group we wipe out, we exchange their heads for commission.
"Of course, we have to give one-third of the money to Viserys."
Lin Yan, who had just walked out of the Magister's mansion as the Commander of a mercenary company, spoke calmly.
To him, the game's lore about restoring the kingdom or Braavos being the enemy of Pentos didn't matter. In this game, all he cared about was killing and conquering.
"Hmph. These Pentoshi Magisters aren't honest at all," complained Nebula_Breaker (Ming Yu), walking out of another Magister's courtyard, to his Vice Guild Leader Bun_Immortal.
"Just look at their faces. I don't even need to think about it to know that those 'bandits' in the Flatlands are mostly mercenaries hired by Braavos. Or at the very least, Braavos is secretly supporting them."
"Wise insight, Guild Leader!" Bun_Immortal gave a thumbs up, signaling that whatever the Whale Boss said was correct.
Following Viserys's quest, the 3,000 new and veteran players mobilized. Except for Minister_of_Excuses's Grenadier Corps (who were messing with Wildfire in the tunnels) and Mouse_Is_Duck's Brotherhood Without Banners (who were in the garden researching how to poison their weapons), everyone else was on the move.
Over 2,500 players, split into dozens of mercenary companies of varying sizes, were hired by the Magisters of Pentos. Their destination: a plain in southern Andalos known to the Pentoshi as the "Flatlands," near the ruins of Ghoyan Drohe.
The Flatlands lay east of the Upper Rhoyne, north of the Velvet Hills, and northwest of the Golden Fields. The Valyrian Road connecting Pentos and Ghoyan Drohe ran right through it.
Relying on this fertile treasure land—where whoever controlled it prospered—Pentos was able to feed countless citizens and survive the long history of wars with Braavos, despite losing more often than winning.
Countless farmers worked the land here. Almost every Magister and noble owned property in the region: orchards, estates, and even mines. The Pentoshi would rather sacrifice their Prince than give up this land.
But the terrain was flat and indefensible. The Dothraki swung their arakhs and looted at will. Braavosi-backed bandits and mercenaries also stuck their feet in, ravaging farmers and plundering the Magisters' estates.
Even though their military was severely restricted by Braavos, the Magisters of Pentos—bleeding from their main artery—had secretly supported many mercenaries to fight the "bandits" in the Flatlands.
Unfortunately, mercenaries always side with the winner. The infamous mercenary companies were mostly hired by the Braavosi, and the third-rate sellswords hired by the Pentoshi were no match for them.
As a result, the "bandits" instructed by Braavos were now running rampant right under the Magisters' noses in Ghoyan Drohe.
Recently, the Rhoynar people, who usually hid in the Velvet Hills and acted as both civilians and bandits, began descending to raid the estates farmed by Pentos's freed slaves, causing significant losses to the Magisters.
The Magisters didn't need a brain to know that the Braavosi were secretly supporting this.
Already furious, the Magisters now had the support of over 2,000 mercenaries. Naturally, they couldn't wait to send troops to deal with those bandits out of the "Century of Friendship" between England and France... err, between Pentos and Braavos.
Even if the Sealord of Braavos caught them red-handed, the Magisters of Pentos weren't afraid. After all, bandits are bandits. Suppressing bandits is always justified.
Thanks to gaining a slight upper hand in the last war, the Pentoshi Magisters—who had never truly submitted to the Braavosi since ancient times—had grown much bolder.
Under the repeated urging of the servants sent by the Magisters, mercenary companies formed by players set out from Pentos, guided by local scouts, heading either for the Flatlands or Ghoyan Drohe.
---
"F, that smells!"
In the Ivy Garden, Mouse_Is_Duck, Guild Leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners, pinched his nose as he looked at a man-sized cauldron in front of him. Two pale-faced players were standing on stools, stirring the contents with wooden sticks.
"Boss, you really are knowledgeable. You even recreated the ancient 'Golden Juice' (boiling feces)." Caramel_Cotton_Candy, the third-in-command of the Brotherhood, hid behind his Guild Leader, pinching his nose.
"Stop yapping. It's stirred enough. Hurry up and coat the brothers' weapons! Smear some on the crossbow bolts too!" Mouse couldn't stand the stench anymore and waved his hand to give the order.
Mouse's philosophy for Assassins was simple: first and foremost, be dirty. And the members of his Brotherhood Without Banners were endless fonts of dirty tricks.
When he asked everyone to brainstorm how to expand the guild's power, someone immediately suggested poisoning weapons. Someone else suggested poisoning their own water skins and dry rations.
That way, if they were killed by an enemy, the enemy who looted their supplies would die too.
Then there were suggestions like lime powder (pocket sand), chili powder, pepper powder, thirty-six types of traps, seventy-two types of hidden weapons... basically, the style shifted straight to Ninja Gaiden.
Each one was more rat-like than the last.
Among the many terrible ideas, Mouse decided to solve the weapon poisoning issue first.
But where to get the poison?
This stumped everyone. Finally, as the Guild Leader, Mouse slapped his thigh: Make it ourselves!
And so, the "Golden Juice"—a staple of ancient siege warfare often seen in movies—was born.
Amidst the overpowering stench, the players of the Brotherhood Without Banners lined up one by one, pinching their noses, to dip their bastard swords, daggers, hidden weapons, and crossbow bolts into the cauldron of boiling excrement.
"Urgh..."
One player couldn't hold it back and opened his mouth to vomit.
"Vomit IN the pot!"
Mouse jumped up and shouted.
That's just evil!
Standing behind Mouse, the two hype-men turned their heads away in speechless disgust.
---
Meanwhile, in the tunnels, the Grenadier Corps was holding a general assembly.
Wearing his commander's cloak, Minister_of_Excuses raised his hand dramatically, cosplaying Napoleon, while two players next to him took screenshots using the in-game camera function.
No_Cure_For_Stupid looked away from his unserious Guild Leader and turned to Dawn:
"Say, can't we think of a way to modify these Wildfire jars into grenades or landmines?"
"Damn, do we have any STEM majors here? Besides, is Wildfire the same thing as landmines?" King_of_Femboys spread his hands and answered for Dawn.
"Grenades are easy. As long as it touches a spark when thrown, the effect is about the same. Close range doesn't matter; as long as the payoff is big enough, the brothers are totally willing to self-destruct at close range.
"But landmines... that's tricky. Leaving everything else aside, who's going to step on a naked flame just because they're bored?" Dawn rubbed his chin and frowned.