The young acolyte, following the Kind Man, the high priest of the House of Black and White, had been given quite the education these past few days. It all started when a child with silver hair and purple eyes ran to the courtyard entrance, insisting on seeing the God of Many Faces' representative to expose a false offering that had not been completed.
The God of Many Faces does not tolerate deceit.
He said his name was Viserys Targaryen, and as a descendant of the family, he confirmed that the deaths of Prince Baelor and Daeron II were both due to fate and disease, and had nothing to do with the Faceless Men assassins. The assassin himself had been infected with the plague and died in the Reach, never even setting foot in King's Landing. Therefore, as the price of that transaction, the Targaryen family heirloom, Blackfyre, should be returned to the Targaryens, right?
This person spoke with conviction, revealing the entire history of the House of Black and White's top assassin, including their aliases, and was so accurate that it made the high priest frown. The old man told him to inform Viserys that if the task was truly not completed, the House of Black and White would return the offering.
"Of course, I believe that credibility is the most important thing!" The young prince opened his purple eyes wide. "The God of Many Faces is not deceived. Valar morghulis, but a death bestowed by him has not arrived."
This stranger seemed to understand their faith very well, constantly mentioning the great God of Many Faces, and that all men must die, acting like a loyal believer. However, when the attendant told him that even if it was returned, it must be to a descendant of the Valyrian Steel Blackfyre, he jumped up on the steps outside the door like a cat whose tail had been stepped on!
"This is because you have been slow to discover the truth and are now in arrears! The God of Many Faces does not like delays! A man must die when he is meant to die, right? The God of Many Faces clearly arranged the decree of fate, allowing the Targaryen family to obtain the sword! How can you defy the god you serve?!"
"The Spring Sickness is a gift from the God of Many Faces! Isn't that right!"
...The believers who revere death as a gift couldn't deny it.
"The God of Many Faces exerted his divine power, ending the suffering of thousands. He didn't allow the assassin to succeed, and thus took his life, as well as the lives of Prince Baelor and King Daeron. Isn't the purpose of this to deny your offering?"
"Because this sword, Blackfyre Valyrian Steel, is not worthy of being offered! They are not recognized by the God of Many Faces as the masters of the Blackfyre sword! It's like a person seizing something from others to offer. Wouldn't this anger the God of Many Faces?"
"So, divine punishment! Amen, ah, no, Valar Morghulis—All men must die—The God of Many Faces means that the Blackfyre sword must still belong to me! Because if you had discovered after the Spring Sickness that you hadn't completed the mission and returned the payment, then the sword would have fallen into the hands of Haegon Blackfyre, wouldn't it—Hey! But this person was defeated and captured alive in the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, and the sword should have returned to King's Landing, but it didn't, so it's still you who prevented the will of the God of Many Faces from being carried out!"
Why would an outsider repeatedly uphold the will of the God of Many Faces? He spoke eloquently, going around in circles, and the conclusion was that he had to take the sword, Blackfyre. After the priest had heard enough, he pushed open the oak door and allowed the child to enter the dim room, asking him to kiss him.
The young acolyte waited for the child to flee in terror.
The priest pulled back the hood of his half-black, half-white robe, revealing a yellow skull covered in a thin layer of skin, with white maggots wriggling in the eye sockets...
The child tilted his head, seemingly unfazed by the terrifying sight. He planted a loud "mwah" on the face. The maggots recoiled in fright. The magic dissipated, and the priest's face reverted to its normal, kind appearance.
"Just like the Frog Prince..." the silver-haired child murmured, "Kiss and transform."
The young man knew this was a difficult person to deal with. The priest, who had failed to scare him away, said, "If you want to take Blackfyre, you must earn it. The sword, offered to the God of Many Faces, is guarded by the best of the Faceless Men. You must become a Faceless Man and pass the trials."
The little boy named Viserys was even more delighted. He eagerly exclaimed, "Great! Then train me! I want to be a Faceless Man too! I renounce my former identity, Prince Targaryen! And my belongings—I didn't bring anything! Not even a Gold Dragon! From this moment on, I am nameless! Hurry and train me!!"
...The young man, feeling that something was amiss, followed the priest's instructions and locked Viserys in the basement of the House of Black and White.
It was pitch black there, with many corpses laid out. The Faceless Men's assassin training involved groping these corpses, learning about death from their cold bodies, their gruesome wounds, and even the rigid expressions on their faces, amplifying their senses in silence.
Would this delicate, foreign little prince be afraid? The youth never heard any screams or cries. The next day, he opened the cellar and saw Viserys lying on an empty platform, asleep—the corpses beside him had all been cleaned and groomed as requested.
…Would a little prince who dared to kill even the Mountain and his subordinates be afraid of this? Moreover, he knew that this place could make him stronger, and his obsession with strength surpassed everything. Waking up, he rubbed his eyes, "Morning! I am no one! Next time, give me a knife, and let me learn how to peel off a face, will you?"
…The House of Black and White had encountered such a situation for the first time. The priests had to train him personally, teaching him languages, distinguishing scents, listening to sounds, exposing lies, and uncovering the truth—Viserys learned everything he could with the utmost enthusiasm, absorbing knowledge, and constantly repeating "I am no one."
Too straightforward, I don't believe it.
The youth would not forget how the priests' task of having Viserys leave the House of Black and White to pull a cart of clams by the canal and sell them all ended.
After getting the clams, the little prince laboriously pulled the cart, directly to the rich district, and knocked on a house's door. He had a dwarf, his companion who had come to this continent with him, pay him a Gold Dragon. Then they spoke a few words, and he started a charcoal fire by the roadside, set up an iron frame, and began grilling the clams—the heat opened the shells. He sprinkled seasonings, and then ate the fragrant grilled clam meat himself, while selling it to passersby for five iron coins each, selling them all.
"You only said to sell them, right? I used the fastest and easiest method, selling them to someone who knows me, this no one. But he said he didn't need so many clams, to avoid returns, I came up with an idea to help him handle them." Viserys said seriously, "I also packed two portions back, I didn't forget you. They're still warm, do you want to eat them now? If the purpose of the trial was to have me observe the buyer's identity… I did it too. Those who are willing to spend five coins for a clam meat are all wealthy fools, like the flamboyantly dressed Water Dancer swordsmen, or passersby with children, because I made the children drool, so they had to buy them."
…The priests had to announce that Viserys could only be considered half a Faceless Man. Not completely bound by the rules.
So, Viserys spent his days studying corpses in the House of Black and White, getting beaten up in the dark, and practicing his training. Then, he would run back to the mansion district to practice swordsmanship with the Water Dancer. He truly rose earlier than a rooster and worked harder than an ox.
But without a doubt, he was growing rapidly. The Kind Man began assigning him assassination missions, but Viserys surprisingly refused. He knelt beside the standing statue, his expression pious, and shouted, "Oh, God of Many Faces! Since I am only half a Faceless Man, I cannot fully implement 'Valar Morghulis' (All men must die). I cannot bestow the gift of death upon every target! Half a Faceless Man, everything is halved. I choose not to accept half the orders. But the ones I do accept, I will surely accomplish! Are there any to eliminate slave owners or thugs? That is my hobby! I will surely end their suffering and dedicate them to the God of Many Faces!"
Patience. The young man thought. He wanted to push the shouting one into the pool. Patience was also a Faceless Men's training. Anyway, he would leave once he got Blackfyre. Then he wouldn't have to listen to his endless chatter.
For example, when helping the Orphan, a priestess in the House of Black and White, a Faceless Man in her twenties but looking like a pale, thin little girl, Viserys said in her ear, "Your father loved you. Because he couldn't do anything else. He knew that after his death, you would have no one to protect you, so he let you come to the House of Black and White to serve. Sigh, otherwise... think about it. You inherit a noble title and property alone, like a sheep surrounded by a pack of wolves. You would worry every day about being murdered by relatives. Wouldn't it be better to give others the gift of death now?"
The Orphan remained silent. Viserys continued, "You are a gift your father dedicated to the God of Many Faces. As a good Faceless Man who has worked diligently for many years, you should consider how to spread the God of Many Faces' gift across the continent and end the suffering of those people... How about this? Whoever doesn't want to live anymore can come, and after dedicating all their possessions to the God of Many Faces, we will give them a painless cup of water, how about it? Of course, they must sign beforehand, and the corpses will also belong to us for dissection and research, so we can get more faces. Sigh, euthanasia is a new business. Faceless Men should promote the glory of returning life to the God of Many Faces. Faceless Men are the guides of death, the messengers of the God of Many Faces in the world. Unfortunately, I am only half a Faceless Man, otherwise, I would definitely create value here and make it bigger and stronger..."
Hearing these words, the priest, the Kind Man, took him to the main room of the House of Black and White. He approached him silently in the dark and beat him with a stick, but Viserys finally had the ability to fight back accurately.
He would leave soon, the nameless young man thought hopefully. The prince of Westeros was actually like this... He also felt curious about that continent, not knowing that he would set foot on it in the future, under the name of Jaqen.
At the same time, across the Narrow Sea in Westeros, King Aerys of King's Landing was being cut by the Iron Throne every day, his skin bleeding profusely—people were whispering that the throne was starting to reject him.
The king's mental state was as appalling as his wounded skin. One moment he was in the throne room, cursing his eldest son for being malicious and scheming to murder his younger brother, claiming the returned letters were clearly forged—he had killed the second heir for the sake of the throne!! Otherwise, why wouldn't Viserys return?!
Rhaegar bowed to his mad father, but he clenched his fingers. This was too much. He thought with anger and melancholy, why wouldn't Viserys return?
The king's sanity was gone, and logic had been burned away. The next moment, he was panting on the throne, then laughing loudly, "Hahaha, since there is no second heir, I can tell the queen to have another one! Or, Rhaegar gets married and has one immediately!!"
He clapped his hands, and humiliated every eligible noblewoman from the Seven Kingdoms that Varys presented to him, scolding the Dornish for having a strange smell and being unable to bear children. He cursed the Tullys for their thin lips and frivolousness, the Lannisters for looking the same regardless of gender and being ambitious, and the Highgarden women for lacking charm: if Prince Daeron really existed, he wouldn't have fallen in love with Jermey, a Highgarden attendant, and broken off his engagement with Duchess Olenna of Highgarden!! Rhaegar probably wouldn't like Highgarden women even if he liked men!
"The North?!" He threw Lyanna's profile into the fire. "Have Rhaegar Targaryen sleep with a female direwolf? She would bite his throat off! Therefore, I don't even have the last heir!"
In a short amount of time, Aerys had offended the entire Seven Kingdoms. "The Targaryens must marry a bride of noble blood!!" After roaring, the Mad King's purplish eyes rolled, "If there isn't one on this land, it doesn't mean there isn't one on other continents! Let the Baratheon duke find a Valyrian descendant for Rhaegar!! Go to Essos! There must be a silver-haired Valyrian bloodline bride over there!"
You think what the Baratheon duke will encounter, and then write to the king that he's found a beautiful Valyrian bloodline... a little girl...
....
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"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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"My Sister And I are in The Apocalypse"
(End Chapter)