When Viserys met and spoke with the two so-called spies, he couldn't help but recall a lesson he had once taught in a previous life.
There was a line in that lesson—
"Those who live in luxury often look down on others and fail to see what lies ahead."
"So you two came to me like this only because you couldn't meet with the Elders, and wanted to persuade your people to return through me instead?"
Viserys asked with a blank expression, though in his heart he was already beginning to admire the pair.
"Yes!" one of them responded—a young man with bright eyes and such dazzlingly white teeth they almost hurt to look at. "You're trying to cause a famine among our people just to conquer the Rhoynar.
But I'm telling you—your Valyrians couldn't conquer us even with dragons back then. What makes you think you can do it now?"
His voice was clear and firm, his gaze unwavering. Compared to his companion, who stood hunched over and timid, baring two large buck teeth, he was far more impressive.
It was easy to see who took the lead between the two.
"What's your name?" Viserys asked.
He hadn't expected someone in this place to see through things so clearly. His interest in the youth piqued immediately.
"Hmph!" The young man turned his head away, clearly too proud to answer.
Naturally, Viserys's guards couldn't tolerate such disrespectful behavior.
One of them furrowed his brows, his hand moving to his sword hilt, ready to draw.
But to everyone's surprise, the buck-toothed one suddenly blurted out loudly:
"Mercy, mercy! His name is Baelor, and I'm Grelish! We're both from the Telnor tribe! Our chieftain is—"
"Shut up, Grelish!" Baelor snapped.
Clearly, no matter how tight-lipped Baelor might have been, he couldn't stop his idiotic companion from spilling everything.
Grelish, face wrinkled with fear, pleaded tearfully:
"Your Grace, please don't kill us. We have families. We won't stop the others from working anymore. We'll work too! No wages needed, none at all!"
Viserys immediately lost all interest in the whimpering one.
"Take him out. I want to speak with this one alone."
Compared to the coward, Viserys clearly admired the spirited Baelor more.
Once everyone had exited the tent, Viserys walked up behind Baelor and prepared to untie him.
'What's this? Is he letting me go?' Baelor wondered.
Before he could make sense of it, the ropes binding his wrists loosened. Then his ankles were freed, allowing him to stand.
He slowly raised his arms and rubbed his sore joints, then turned to face Viserys—only to find the king shockingly young.
He barely reached Baelor's chest in height, and looked about the same age as his little sister at home. But Baelor remained wary. He had no idea what Viserys was planning.
"Are you interested in pledging your loyalty to me?" Viserys asked.
"You think you can buy me off like this?" Baelor sneered, turning his head aside.
Viserys didn't press the issue. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Baelor, do you know what I'm trying to do?"
"Of course. You want to bring the Rhoynar under your rule, don't you?"
"Oh? You think it's just that?"
"I remember—your Targaryens were overthrown by traitors, weren't they? So you had to flee to Essos?" Baelor taunted.
He thought that if Viserys killed him now, perhaps his blood could serve as a warning to his people not to fall for Viserys's lies.
Planting season was already more than halfway over.
Any crops sown now would only barely suffice to pay taxes. As for the people's own food, they'd have to find some other way.
If the Elders were kind enough to share grain with the common folk, maybe the Rhoynar migrants along the upper Rhoyne could scrape by.
But thinking of those greedy Elders, Baelor had serious doubts.
"You're right. We Targaryens came here as refugees."
Viserys's blunt answer made Baelor glance at him in surprise.
"And if you're trying to provoke me into killing you, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Even if I kill you, your people will still come build my walls."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't? Then tell me—how many people have you convinced to go back so far?"
Faced with Viserys's sharp question, Baelor suddenly fell silent. He had once been well-liked in the village for his cleverness and kind heart.
But ever since he started urging people not to help Viserys build his walls, he'd made a lot of enemies.
Many had begun avoiding him.
Especially since those working for Viserys received decent wages—and sometimes even a hot meal.
"Taking someone's livelihood is like killing their parents." That saying held true anywhere.
In just under a month, Baelor's good standing had completely vanished.
"I've seen you today, and I'll report this to our Elders!" Baelor declared, like he'd finally found some leverage.
"Go ahead. I won't stop you."
Viserys spread his arms, completely unconcerned.
He'd already seen through it all—on this land of Gohor, whether they were Andals or Rhoynar, all so-called 'leaders' were nothing more than puppet regimes.
Expecting them to act for the people's benefit was like expecting pigs to climb trees.
As Viserys stepped aside to let him pass, Baelor cautiously took two steps forward, then glanced back, took two more, and finally breathed a sigh of relief once he was out of the tent.
He and Grelish left the bustling worksite behind.
Baelor looked back, heart heavy.
It was painfully clear that in the not-too-distant future, the fate of the Rhoynar in Gohor would truly be in someone else's hands.
"Baelor, are you really going to see the Elders? They said no matter what the reason is, if you meet them, you have to pay triple taxes next time!
You've got your mother, and two sisters… You should really think this through!" Grelish, though timid, was Baelor's most loyal friend, and tried hard to dissuade him.
But Baelor's face was filled with resolve.
"Grelish, I've decided to become a servant in the Elder's household.
That way, my mother and sisters might get enough grain to survive what's coming."
"What?! A servant? But that's…"
Grelish was too shocked to finish his sentence.
Being a servant was barely different from being a slave.
Baelor was basically selling himself.
"Grelish, don't be tempted by the Valyrians' wages. Go back and tend your land. That's more important than anything else. Do you understand?"
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