Nine-Thousand-Years, now logged in, quickly found Storm-Overlord in the Pentos barracks and agreed to sell the intel offline for 10,000 RMB.
By the time Caramel-Cotton-Candy, Head of the Secret Police Intelligence Division and Chief of the Braavos Station, received the news, he was already way behind the curve.
And by the time Caramel-Cotton-Candy reported the intel to Duck-Pointer, Storm-Overlord had already pulled his guild back from the crowded harbor.
Storm knew the score: too many wolves, not enough meat. Instead of fighting for scraps, he decided to prepare for the upcoming "Dungeon Raid." The benefits would be just as good.
---
Lorath.
A Free City built in the Valyrian style, its center of power was ruled by a council of three Princes.
The Harvest Prince was chosen from those who owned land on the islands.
The Fisher Prince was chosen from all the ship owners on the islands.
The Prince of the Streets was chosen from all the free men in the city.
Like in Braavos, once a Prince was elected, they served for life.
But over the long years, the Council of Princes had become, much like the Prince of Pentos, mere figureheads—mascots. The real power lay in the hands of the Magisters' Council, composed of nobles, priests, and wealthy merchants.
The envoy sent by Sealord Ferrego knew perfectly well that the three Princes of Lorath were nothing more than mouthpieces for the Magisters.
However, even knowing this, the envoy had no intention of slighting the three Princes. Relying on the might of Braavos, he put on the airs of a representative from a superior nation.
After all, even if the three Princes held no real power, they were still the symbols of the city-state's authority—the face of Lorath.
The envoy had brought cartloads of treasures for the three Princes. Following behind were shiploads of gifts intended to grease the palms of the powerful figures in the Magisters' Council.
Of course, the main course was the loan from the Iron Bank. Whether Lorath received it depended on whether its masters knew their place. If they were smart, Braavos would hand over these benefits on a silver platter. If they were stupid... well, these paupers could prepare for Braavosi economic sanctions.
How long could a city relying heavily on fishing survive without trade with Braavos?
The envoy felt victory was already in the bag.
---
"What did you say? A Targaryen envoy is already inside?!"
Outside the Council Hall, the Sealord's envoy, preparing to meet the Princes, widened his eyes in shock. He grabbed the collar of the man in front of him and roared.
The servant, who had gone in to announce him and come right back out, trembled and dared not speak.
"Let the envoy from Braavos enter," another servant walked out of the hall at that moment, rescuing the unfortunate soul.
"Hmph!"
They didn't kick the Targaryen envoy from Pentos out immediately, right in front of my face? I see these three Princes are tired of living!
The Braavosi envoy stormed into the Council Hall with a furious expression.
Inside, three men dressed in finery sat around a long table. Their identities were obvious.
The envoy glanced around and immediately spotted an ordinary-looking man sitting at the table with them.
That must be the Targaryen smooth-talker from Pentos.
Damn it. I actually ran into him!
"A friend from Braavos! Come, let us embrace!"
The bearded Fisher Prince stood up enthusiastically and gave the Braavosi envoy a big bear hug.
But the envoy didn't appreciate the gesture. With a stern face, he pointed a finger at the Targaryen envoy—roleplayed by the player Jiang-Gan—and demanded:
"If we are friends, why have you let an enemy into your hall?"
"Ah, you are friends, they are friends... Lorathi people are kind to everyone! Everyone is a friend!"
The Prince of the Streets also stood up, playing the peacemaker.
Braavos had an unrivaled naval fleet and the limitless wealth of the Iron Bank. Lorath couldn't afford to offend them.
But the Targaryens had easily taken Pentos and, rumor had it, recently swept through the Ghoyan Drohe region, subduing all the local Rhoynar and Andals. Lorath didn't want to offend them either.
"Lorath can only have one friend: Braavos. Furthermore, Braavos brings trade and wealth to the people of Lorath. The Targaryen brings you nothing. How can he be considered a friend?"
"We Braavosi have always believed in mutual aid. We bring benefits to Lorath. I wonder... what has the Targaryen envoy brought? Surely not just empty words of friendship without paying a single copper?"
The Braavosi envoy's words were sharp. From the moment he entered the hall, he refused to sit down. Instead, he unleashed a barrage of verbal attacks directed squarely at Jiang-Gan.
The Harvest Prince cast a suspicious glance at Jiang-Gan. This envoy had arrived without gifts or a retinue. Was it true, as the Braavosi said, that the Targaryens didn't value them at all?
Despite his suspicion, the Harvest Prince didn't immediately side with the Braavosi envoy.
After all, the Magisters' Council behind them had given strict instructions: Do not take sides, but do not let either side leave with a grudge.
Simply put, Lorath wanted to offend no one and help no one. Ideally, they would sit on the sidelines and watch the two lions tear each other apart. If forced, they would consider cheering for Braavos from the stands, but they would never tie themselves to Braavos's chariot.
"Aha, Envoy, please do not be angry. Please, sit!" The Harvest Prince stood up, joining the other two in smoothing things over.
Seeing the three Princes personally inviting him to sit, the Braavosi envoy decided not to completely humiliate Lorath. He let out a huff and took his seat.
"I come here representing Braavos, bringing a ship full of treasures for Lorath. From gold coins to spices, from fine fabrics to exquisite swords. Braavos only gives precious gifts to precious friends!"
The envoy accepted a goblet of wine from a servant and raised it in a toast.
"We thank Braavos for its friendship. To the noble Sealord!" The three Princes, hearing of the wealth brought by the envoy, beamed with smiles and raised their glasses in return.
Lorath was too poor. Even as Princes, the three of them felt poorer than some merchants in Braavos.
"But I wonder... what has the esteemed Targaryen envoy brought for his friends in Lorath?" The Braavosi envoy noted the Princes' reactions with satisfaction. He lifted his chin arrogantly, looking down at the "pauper" envoy beside him.
"I come here bringing no wealth to Lorath, no trade to Lorath, and no gifts. I bring nothing but friendship."
Jiang-Gan, who had been silent until now, appeared calm on the surface, but his heart was pounding like a drum. This mission concerned his personal interests. If he pulled this off, he could turn his life around in the game—and maybe even in the real world.
If he failed, he might never get another chance like this.
Jiang-Gan's tone was flat. Despite bringing absolutely nothing, he showed no shame in his empty hands. Instead, he declared it with dignity and grace.