Chapter 165: How Am I Supposed to Take It If You Won’t?

Chapter 165: How Am I Supposed to Take It If You Won’t?"You're not going."

Rovi suddenly opened his eyes, startled by a familiar voice. He couldn’t quite place the name, but it tugged at his memory. Struggling to sit up, he looked toward the source of the voice.

“Viserys! How can it be you?” Rovi’s face twisted in shock.

“I’m asking you—what’s the situation in Lys right now?” Viserys’s tone was calm but commanding.

“How can you be here!” Rovi stammered, as if he hadn’t heard the question.

“Answer me,” Viserys insisted.

“This is impossible! You’re not Viserys! You’re not—” Rovi’s words devolved into incoherent muttering, his eyes unfocused and vacant, as if his mind had fractured under the pressure.

“He’s lost his mind, my lord,” Jorah observed.

“It seems we won’t get anything useful from him,” Viserys remarked, his tone resigned. "Take the ring from his finger and toss him overboard."

“Yes, my lord,” Jorah replied. He pushed Rovi’s limp body to the edge of the sampan and efficiently slit his throat.

“You’re quite skilled,” Viserys commented.

“Oh, this way the blood doesn’t get everywhere,” Jorah responded with a grim smile. As he prepared to push Rovi into the sea, he suddenly felt something hard and lumpy in the dead man’s clothing.

“My lord, there’s something in his clothes.”

“Cut it open,” Viserys ordered.

Jorah pulled Rovi back up and sliced open his clothing, revealing a cascade of colorful gems spilling out onto the deck.

“Look at that! We’ve hit a bonus. Count them,” Viserys instructed.

“With pleasure!” Jorah exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he rummaged through Rovi’s garments. In total, he found 76 pigeon egg-sized gems of various colors, each one impeccably cut and gleaming with quality.

“My lord! These gems are worth at least 300,000 gold dragons!” Jorah said, his voice filled with awe.

Three hundred thousand gold dragons—likely all the wealth Rovi had taken with him in his flight—was a fortune equivalent to the annual tax revenue of a Free City.

“One for each of you. The rest can be put away,” Viserys said.

“Thank you, my lord!” Regis replied joyfully, picking a yellow gem and admiring it.

“No, my lord. What you’ve already given us is more than generous,” Jorah declined politely, which left Regis feeling slightly embarrassed.

Regis’s hand, still holding the gemstone, hung in the air. He realized he had done almost nothing on this mission and felt it was unreasonable to accept such a reward. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit resentful toward Jorah. ‘That could have been handled privately,’ he thought, feeling the awkwardness of the situation.

“That’s enough. Just do your job well in the future. It’s only a gemstone,” Viserys said, dismissing the tension.

“Thank you, my lord,” Conwyra said softly, selecting a blue gem and tucking it carefully into his pocket. Though Viserys had freed him, he still regarded him as the best master he could ever serve.

They were all pleased—receiving a reward worth a thousand gold dragons for almost no effort at all.

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Meanwhile, back in Lys, Rovi’s defection had forced the city to accelerate the construction of fortifications and the production of weapons. But a dark cloud hung over everyone’s heads.

Qaga was deep in discussion with the alchemist’s guild, trying to secure more wildfire, when he suddenly heard Tregar’s voice echo through the hall.

"A letter! A letter from Viserys!" Qaga exclaimed as he looked up to see Tregar and Feles entering his alchemy workshop. Feles was in a daze, his eyes fixed on the seagull that had delivered the message. He was especially puzzled by the ring on the bird's leg, but there was no mistaking it—this was a letter from Viserys.

After reading it, Feles felt a wave of relief, though the content left him uneasy. Without hesitation, he handed the letter to Tregar and the others. Tregar, though initially hesitant after reading it, decided to bring it to Qaga.

The letter contained good news, but Viserys’s tone was anything but gentle. He berated them for their incompetence, particularly for failing to keep track of Rovi. The most polite thing he wrote was that their brains were "full of shit."

Despite their initial indignation, they quickly set aside their pride and began to contemplate the situation. Questions flooded their minds: How did Viserys learn of Rovi's defection? How did he stop him? Was Rovi dead or alive?

This incident only served to prove one thing—Viserys's sources of information and his methods were far beyond their comprehension.

Previously, Qaga and Tregar had harbored some doubts. If they won, could they escape the permanent contract? Could they reduce their commitment from 3,000 men? But now, they realized that keeping their 3,000 troops loyal to Viserys might be the safest course of action. Even Tregar began to reconsider, thinking it might be wiser to return Lynesse to Jorah.

Only Feles, who had successfully allied with Viserys, felt nothing but satisfaction. The revival of House Rogare was within reach, and he had wisely aligned himself with the right person.

In light of recent events, Viserys requested that they appoint a suitable commander. Feles, who had just secured his alliance with Viserys, was the obvious choice. His decision to stay loyal was proving more beneficial by the day.

...

After returning to Tyrosh, Viserys focused on improving the conditions for the slaves in his mines. The poor nutrition had left them weak and malnourished, but if they were to play a key role in the upcoming uprising, they needed to be strong.

"I’ll tell you what, boy, you’re lucky to be here," a skinny miner with bloodshot eyes whispered to the brown-haired boy beside him. "The master is generous—gives everyone a bowl of egg soup with every meal!"

"Egg soup?!" the boy, called Milen, repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, with plenty of oil, too!" the older miner confirmed, slurping at the thought.

Milen, only fifteen, could hardly believe it. He had been a slave for as long as he could remember, and generosity was something he had never experienced from any master.

"Hey, hey, it’s time to eat!" The call to eat sent the miners scrambling out of the mine, their picks and shovels abandoned. They moved like a herd of black and gray oxen, rushing to get in line. But once in line, they stopped pushing and shoving, disciplined by long years of harsh training.

The aroma of the food wafted through the air, rich with the scent of fat. "Wait, today is 'reward day.' Tonight, the master will give each of us an egg!"

"An egg each?! We can eat eggs here?!" Milen asked, still incredulous.

But when it was his turn to receive his meal, the sight of the thick, gooey egg soup with oil floating on top made his stomach growl with hunger.

"The master is here!" someone suddenly shouted just as everyone was finishing their bowls, drawing the attention of the entire crowd.