Jiang-Gan stood up abruptly, looking around at everyone in the room. Then, as if he were one of them, he shouted passionately.
The old merchant beside him opened his mouth, about to suggest a recess for discussion.
But Jiang-Gan gave him no chance to interrupt. His tone grew more intense, and he even started waving his hands emotionally:
"The Braavosi! In the beginning, they were nothing but a group of escaped slaves huddled together to survive! The great Free Cities showed mercy and did not exterminate them when they were at their weakest!
But now that Braavos is strong, they monopolize all maritime shipping! Ask yourselves: which port city has truly prospered from its proximity to the sea under their thumb? Why is that?!"
Jiang-Gan's eyes were red, as if he were the one being oppressed by the Braavosi. He punched the air with force.
"It's the Braavosi!"
A ship owner stood up, slightly agitated, and shouted.
"Exactly! It's the Braavosi! Power can monopolize everything, but it cannot crush our anger at injustice! Maritime trade has never belonged to one person or one city!
It should belong to everyone! To every port city that sits by the sea! We don't need you to fight. We only need you to remain neutral in the war. My King's righteous army will sweep away these parasites that feed on the continent of Essos!"
"We should send troops! Let's take down the Braavosi! There is no reason for us to pay them expensive taxes just to leave and return to our own harbor! We are the ones doing the hard work, but the Braavosi sit back and reap the rewards!"
More and more ship owners stood up, roaring in agreement. Were they rich? Compared to the fishermen of Lorath, certainly. But compared to the Merchant Princes of Braavos? Not even close.
They all risked their lives sailing the seas to make a profit. Why did they get peanuts while the Braavosi got filthy rich? It wasn't fair!
Seeing more people standing up and shifting the topic to joining the Targaryens in a crusade against Braavos, the corners of Jiang-Gan's mouth slowly curled upward.
His speech was full of holes. Braavos had also grown from weak to strong. The law of the jungle—the strong survive, the weak perish—applied just as much in Essos as it did in the Warring States period.
If you aren't strong, you have to endure the strong. But people never blame themselves. Jiang-Gan had pinpointed human nature perfectly. With just a few sentences, he had ignited the latent anger of everyone in the room.
Heh. You think you can resist my Hitler-esque oratory skills?
When Jiang-Gan arrived, he was alone. When he left, he was accompanied by a Lorathi delegation of a hundred people. They would travel with him to meet Viserys and discuss the grand plan of marching on Braavos together.
Braavos had truly "given the enemy a wife and lost its soldiers"—a double loss. The helper they sought had defected to the enemy, and even the ship full of gifts meant for Lorath had been repackaged and loaded onto wagons, ready to be presented to Viserys as a greeting gift.
---
Meanwhile, the entire city of Pentos seemed to be under martial law. Players hurried to and fro, buying supplies or hammering out weapons at the smithies.
There was even a group of players from the Grenadier Corps, led by a player named The Carpenter Emperor, who were busy chopping down trees. They claimed they were preparing materials in advance to build siege engines under the walls of Braavos.
Ever since Viserys learned from Duck-Pointer that Braavos was trying to form an "Anti-Dragon Coalition," he had been organizing the players and the Pentos City Watch for nearly a month.
Everything was ready. They were just waiting for Viserys's order to march on Braavos.
Strictly speaking, Pentos had already moved. Storm-Overlord, having received advance intel, had long since marched his legion into the Ghoyan Drohe region.
As soon as Viserys gave the command, his group of players would be the first legion to charge toward Braavos.
---
At the same time, the first "Assassin's League" formed by players had crossed the Narrow Sea and infiltrated King's Landing.
Today was the day the former Master of Whisperers, Varys, would be executed for treason.
The crowd of commoners who had come to watch the show stretched as far as the eye could see—a sea of grey and dust. In the crowd, Moon-Fang and Iron-Pumping Superman munched on apples and drank honeyed water, looking at the execution block with eager anticipation.
They didn't have to wait long. Varys was soon dragged up onto the platform by two Gold Cloaks.
The moment Varys was forced onto the block, the commoners below hurled rotten vegetables and clods of dirt.
Many had anger in their eyes, but if you looked closely, you could see the uncontrollable smiles on their lips.
For the smallfolk of King's Landing, whose lives were drab and miserable, getting to throw trash at a high minister was a rare day of excitement and emotional release, wasn't it?
Varys scanned the angry crowd silently. He said nothing, nor did he resist. He could no longer hear the list of crimes being read behind him; his ears were filled only with the roar of the mob.
The Spider turned his head to look at King Robert, the Hand Eddard Stark, the courtiers, Queen Cersei, the royal family, and finally, Stannis Baratheon.
That truly is a hateful man, Varys thought. Stannis had insisted on strict punishment. Varys had hoped he might be allowed to take the Black and serve as a brother of the Night's Watch.
But the moment the King saw Stannis, he adamantly refused to let Varys take the Black. He insisted on the death penalty.
It wasn't because of anything Stannis said. Although Stannis advised harsh punishment, the man was rigid about the law. If a criminal wished to take the Black, the law allowed it, and Stannis, stickler that he was, wouldn't have opposed it.
But perhaps because Robert had just lost a brother, seeing Stannis—the brother he usually disliked the most—made him lose emotional control.
Varys turned his head back. It was the last movement he would ever make.
The King's Justice, Ser Ilyn Payne, walked onto the platform wearing his executioner's hood.
He stood behind Varys, took the greatsword Ice (or perhaps his own blade) from a squire, and waited. Almost at the exact instant the reading of the crimes concluded, he swung the greatsword with all his might, severing Varys's head.
Thud!
The crowd erupted into chaos—some cheering without knowing why, some trying to push forward for a better look, others trying to back away.
[You have indirectly caused the death of the Master of Whisperers, Varys the Spider. You receive the following rewards: Two Silver Loot Boxes, Bronze Loot Boxes...]
Iron-Pumping Superman tossed his apple core away, laughed, and patted Moon-Fang on the shoulder, mumbling through a mouthful of apple:
"Alright, let's go. Show's over."
Moon-Fang grinned and shrugged.
"Don't go just yet. The show's just starting!"
Iron-Pumping Superman followed his gaze. He saw a dozen figures with player IDs floating above their heads swimming against the current of the crowd. Their target was obvious.
It was the Usurper, leaving the execution platform with a dark face, surrounded by his courtiers and family.