Bang!
The door to a woman's laundry was kicked open.
Three Action Division players stormed in, looking fierce. One of them grabbed the male owner by the collar.
"I told you not to close the door! Are you deaf or do you have something to hide? Talk! Are you a lackey of the Prince? A running dog for the Magisters resisting the great King Viserys III? Talk!"
"I... I was just scared! Please forgive me, my lord!"
The owner stammered, begging for mercy.
"Still making excuses? Hit him!"
The player shoved him to the ground. Before the man could get up, the two players behind rushed forward, raising their clubs and bringing them down on his head.
The female owner rushed out from behind the counter to stop them, but was shoved aside. She didn't give up and lunged again, but an impatient player swung his club back, striking her on the head.
The woman fell backward, blood quickly pooling around her.
She was dead.
The player froze for a moment. After a while, he looked up and realized no punishment mechanism had triggered. He immediately swung his club again, smashing the wailing man in the mouth.
"It says right here clearly: this is the property of former Magister Frank. You say it isn't? Take him away! Throw him in the Icebox! Torture him good!"
---
In a tavern, an Action Team Captain waved his hand, and players behind him pounced like wolves and tigers, pinning the pale-faced tavern owner down.
"What are you looking at? This is what happens when you oppose the great King Viserys III!
"Secret Police business! Everyone else, get lost!"
The Captain stood with his hands behind his back, barking sternly at the tavern patrons who had gathered to watch.
His shout instantly scattered the onlookers, who flooded out of the tavern.
Once the place was cleared...
The Captain personally slapped a seal on the tavern door.
---
Viserys, currently meeting with a group of merchants in his temporary palace, had no idea that his Secret Police players were already running wild, using his name to arrest "resisters" and do whatever they pleased.
A certain former Magister's estate had now been converted by Mouse_Is_Duck into a temporary prison for interrogating prisoners.
Name: The Icebox.
"Will you talk? Will you talk?!"
A prisoner tied to a cross had been whipped almost into unconsciousness with a lash dipped in saltwater.
"I really don't know, my lord!"
The prisoner begged incessantly.
The shirtless player in front of him was panting from exhaustion. Seeing the prisoner still refusing to crack, he turned to look at Director Mouse_Is_Duck.
Leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, Mouse_Is_Duck slowly opened them and beckoned the player over.
The player put down the whip and walked over:
"Guild Leader... ah, no, Director!"
"Since he doesn't understand what we mean, just tell him directly," Mouse_Is_Duck said calmly.
"Understood."
The player turned back to the prisoner, leaned close to his ear, and whispered:
"Talk! Where did you hide your money?"
The prisoner jerked his head up. Damn it, if you wanted money, why didn't you just say so?!
"I'll talk! I'll talk! My money is hidden in..."
Slap!
"What nonsense are you spouting? I asked where the funds you used to support the anti-Targaryen rebels are!"
The player shouted righteously.
"Yes, yes! In my room! Count seven bricks from the door on the second row. There's a hidden compartment. Find it, and you'll find the money," the prisoner mumbled through a bloody mouth.
This scene was playing out simultaneously in several nearby rooms.
If they weren't shorthanded, Mouse_Is_Duck would have arrested every rich person in the city by now.
"Go get the money, just like they said." Seeing that the interrogations were mostly done, Mouse_Is_Duck gave the order.
Soon, the Action Division members, who had been swaggering around the streets, were gathered. Organized into squads and teams, they took the addresses and went door-to-door to collect the cash.
Those Magisters who had surrendered earlier, sensing the tide turning, hadn't even had a chance to pledge their loyalty to Viserys before these agents knocked on their doors, demanding money.
Some wanted to resist, and the agents would simply turn and leave. But moments later, players from the Grenadier Corps would show up to block their doors with Wildfire jars. Not only did they have to pay, but the price doubled.
Seeing this, the remaining Magisters dared not make a scene and chose to pay to avoid disaster.
---
Merchants had just received Viserys's promise that business would continue as usual and walked out of the palace relieved. But the moment they got home, their servants told them their houses had been raided.
In an instant, the merchants stood frozen in place, speechless for a long time.
---
Looking at chest after chest of gold coins and Gold Dragons being carried in...
Viserys turned to look at the Spy Chief, Mouse_Is_Duck, who was grinning and fishing for praise:
"Where did you get this?"
"Your Grace, these are the assets of criminals who resisted Targaryen rule. Total value: 1.35 million Gold Dragons!" Mouse_Is_Duck replied.
Of course, he didn't mention that the Secret Police kept 300,000 Gold Dragons as funding, and the Grenadier Corps took another 50,000 as a "consultation fee."
Rebel funds my ass! You guys just raided every rich person in the city, didn't you?!
Viserys suddenly thought of something and quickly looked at Mouse_Is_Duck:
"What about the merchants in the city?"
"Robbed... ah, no, we confiscated the assets of those confirmed as rebels. The innocent ones, naturally, we didn't touch," Mouse_Is_Duck replied.
Damn it, this idiot! This is killing the goose that lays the golden eggs! You got me over a million Gold Dragons, but will any merchant dare to do business in Pentos ever again?
So you're planning on this being a one-time meal, huh?
Viserys's face was dark. These players were fine for fighting and killing, but if he let them govern a territory, they'd probably spawn eighteen rebel kings and seventy-two uprisings in a single day.
Although he complained inwardly, Viserys couldn't say it out loud.
Because players always see themselves as the boss in the game.
Especially since Mouse_Is_Duck's subordinates were present, Viserys couldn't scold him publicly.
As punishment? Besides praising them for a job well done and then not giving them any explicit rewards (while secretly withholding hidden rewards), there wasn't much else he could do.
Damn it, they literally created a Gestapo Stormtrooper detachment!
Mouse_Is_Duck, still thinking he did a great job, looked smug.
Ser Jorah, standing behind the King, wanted to say something but felt it was inappropriate. So he could only glare with a dark face at this spy chief jumping around the King.
"How much of this belongs to the merchants?"
The King asked.
"Probably around seven or eight hundred thousand? Didn't count carefully. Most of it belongs to the local wealthy merchants and the passing caravans," Mouse_Is_Duck thought for a moment and replied vaguely.
This money cannot be kept, Viserys knew clearly. Over a million Gold Dragons was blindingly attractive, but draining the pond to catch the fish was something he absolutely could not do.
"Return all the merchants' money," the King said.
"Huh? Why?" The confused Spy Chief replied.
"Robbing them today feels good, sure. But if merchants from other places see this, who would dare to come here for trade? You must know, Pentos is a port city."