In just a few short days, Freygo felt utterly exhausted in both body and mind.
The fifty thousand troops had been the pillar of his power.
Their officers and commanders were men his faction had cultivated and promoted over many years.
If he were forced to raise new armies, his influence over the new forces would inevitably decline.
Once his command over the military weakened, his political authority would soon follow.
Over the past few days, even the servants attending him had been replaced three times.
Staring at the mountain of reports and petitions piled on his desk, the Sea Lord—already frail to begin with—felt dizzy and lightheaded.
At that moment, Pike approached him.
"Your Majesty, a letter from Lord Tormo."
At the mention of Tormo's name, Freygo sprang to his feet.
But the sudden movement made his vision go dark, and he collapsed back into his chair.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Pike hurried forward to steady him. Freygo took a mouthful of water to compose himself, then quickly tore open the letter.
The very first line froze him in place.
"Esteemed King Freygo, I am your loyal friend, Viserys."
That single sentence struck him like a whip across the face, making the corner of his mouth twitch uncontrollably.
In the letter, Viserys demanded ten bushels of grain to ransom each soldier—equivalent to two years' worth of food for an adult.
Nobles would cost double.
High nobles would cost even more.
As for their weapons and armor, that was out of the question.
They had already been stripped clean and sealed away in warehouses by the Old Crab.
In addition, Viserys demanded five million and one gold dragon in reparations.
Freygo's temples throbbed violently as he read.
The demand for grain alone was already excessive, but the five million and one gold dragons was nothing short of deliberate humiliation.
There was no way Freygo could comply fully.
Braavos's annual tax revenue barely reached one to two million gold dragons.
Even scraping together every coin his faction controlled, he could muster only a little over four million in liquid assets.
Emptying the treasury would leave the city financially crippled.
And yet, Freygo could not outright refuse.
If those forty thousand prisoners were returned, his throne would at least remain secure, and he could offer the people of Braavos an explanation.
Moreover, Braavos still possessed ample arms and equipment. Re-equipping the soldiers would not be difficult.
Viserys had clearly anticipated this.
To prevent Freygo from staging a comeback—and to ensure his reign remained uncomfortable—the letter specified that the forty thousand captives would be returned in batches over three years.
During those three years, Braavos would be responsible for feeding them.
Freygo could only grit his teeth and accept.
He knew perfectly well that those soldiers' rations would inevitably be reduced and skimmed.
The young king now had a fleet.
He stood in an unassailable position.
At the end of the letter, Viserys expressed his fondness for dragon eggs and stated that if Freygo returned the Targaryen dragon eggs held in Braavos, some of the reparations could be reduced.
During the reign of Jaehaerys, three dragon eggs had indeed found their way into Braavos.
Jaehaerys I had sought to reclaim them, but the Sea Lord at the time had refused.
Instead, he had offered a compromise: the cancellation of Targaryen loans to the Iron Throne.
Viserys, naturally, had no intention of refusing more dragon eggs. If they could be reclaimed, he wanted every last one.
Should I send the Faceless Men to kill him? The thought suddenly crossed Freygo's mind.
But after some consideration, he set it aside for now.
He planned to use the dragon eggs in his possession to ransom Tormo and Quairo first.
The price for those two would certainly not be low.
As for Viserys, although he did not intend to extract a full five million gold dragons from Braavos, the one million demanded from Pentos would not be reduced by a single copper star.
Even though the Pentoshi army had helped eliminate the mercenaries, they had not yet left Gohor.
Nearly twenty thousand men were still barely clinging to life on meager supplies of water and food.
They would not die, but they were also incapable of fighting.
Viserys had made his position clear.
Payment first. Release later.
At this moment, all of Pentos was scrambling to gather funds.
Yet Audro, the Prince of Pentos, was in an excellent mood. After all, it was the governors who were paying, not him.
At that very moment, he was drinking merrily with Davos.
At first, Davos had treated the meeting as a serious diplomatic mission.
But Viserys had told him that after drifting at sea for half a year, he should enjoy himself properly.
Davos had been cautious at first, but when he saw how the Pentoshi practically treated him like an honored guest, he gradually relaxed.
"I hear your eldest son is not yet married. Have you considered any suitable matches?"
Audro's sudden question made Davos instinctively glance toward his son.
At that moment, Dale was laughing heartily, clinking cups with the governors, having shed his earlier stiffness and grown increasingly uninhibited.
That foolish boy.
After silently grumbling about his son, Davos smiled and replied.
"If not for His Majesty's trust, my family would never have reached where it is today. From the moment I pledged my loyalty, I resolved that everything must serve His Majesty's cause of reclaiming the Iron Throne."
It was both an acknowledgment and a polite refusal.
Audro did not mind.
What he needed was a reliable ally.
"I have a cousin," Audro said. "She was once Governor Illyrio's wife, but he betrayed her first. If your eldest son does not mind—"
Davos swallowed.
He had expected Audro to offer a woman from some minor house.
He had never imagined his family might be connected by marriage to a princely line.
His blood seemed to boil.
Such a situation was beyond even his wildest dreams.
"Ser Davos? Ser Davos?"
Audro called out when he noticed Davos had drifted off.
In truth, Audro's family was not short of unmarried virgins.
He simply feared frightening a family that, just three years ago, had been living in Flea Bottom.
"Your Highness," Davos said carefully, "this is… Dale never received much formal education.
He grew up smuggling with me at sea. He may not be worthy of your cousin. And I would also need His Majesty Viserys's approval."
Audro nodded in understanding.
At the same time, he felt a twinge of envy toward Viserys. The king held astonishing authority in the hearts of his followers.
Watching Davos and Audro converse amicably, Illyrio realized it was time for him to lie low.
Any lingering fantasy of placing his own son on a throne had already been crushed into dust beneath Viserys's fleet.
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