NOVEL NEXT Chapter 236: Can the Faceless Man Handle It?
Benerro held aloft a flaming cage, though its size made it more appropriate to call it a "flaming birdcage." Inside the cage, a goat's head seemed to be formed from black smoke, flickering ominously within the flames.
"Where is Mirri?" Viserys asked.
"Dead," Benerro replied curtly.
He didn’t care. The only reason he hadn’t killed Mirri earlier was to explore the possibility of her being useful later. Now it seemed his suspicions had been correct.
"The priest by Drogo’s side today is also a follower of the Black Goat. I hope you can help me eliminate the Black Goat Temple in Qohor," Benerro requested.
"No problem, after I defeat Drogo," Viserys responded.
Noticing Benerro’s gaze lingering on the human skin mask on his desk, Viserys decided not to hide it. "Faceless Men. Do you know how to use it?"
Benerro’s expression grew complicated. He had once been confident that Viserys was Nissa Nissa, destined to be a sacrificial figure. But now, doubts crept in. 'You’re supposed to be a sacrifice,' he thought, 'so what’s the point of being so powerful?' Then again, no matter how strong a person is, can they be stronger than a dragon?
Benerro held the mask for a moment, then placed it on his face, muttering an incantation. Miraculously, he transformed into Viserys, though his hair color, height, and build remained unchanged. But it was enough for Viserys—he already knew how to use it.
The time for the contest with the Horselord was drawing near, a contest that would be spoken of for the next hundred years. The two most powerful men on the continent of Essos would decide the future of the Dothraki and the Free Cities.
Hundreds of black banners bearing the three-headed dragon emblem fluttered on a small hill at the edge of the field. Drogo rode up to the hill, which had been temporarily fenced off as a riding arena. The space, spanning dozens of acres, provided ample room for movement.
Drogo first pulled back the string of his longbow, as if familiarizing himself with the weapon or simply warming up. Then, from over a hundred paces away, he bent the bow, set an arrow, and shot down a three-headed dragon banner. The black banner crumpled to the ground. Drogo cast a glance toward the nobles of the Free Cities, then rode his horse back and forth over the fallen banner, a clear demonstration of his intent.
According to the prior agreement, Viserys’s side was responsible for setting up the venue, while Drogo’s side would select the prey. As the crowd anticipated the release of rabbits, deer, or wild boar, Cohollo instead led hundreds of slaves to the archery range.
“Khal Drogo says we brought our own prey!” Drogo’s translator shouted.
But these weren’t ordinary slaves. Judging by their clothing, they were civilians from the Golden Fields—old people, women, children, even mothers holding infants. Under the lashes of Cohollo and the others, they scattered, desperately trying to flee.
Some mothers, clutching their children, stumbled in the chaos, their bodies unbalanced by the sudden burst of speed. One mother fell, shielding her crying child with her body. She tried to comfort the child, but instead of soothing words, blood-tinged saliva spilled from her mouth.
An arrow with white feathers flew through the air, piercing the mother’s neck.
Methys gently covered the eyes of little Viserys. Neither Braavos, where slavery was forbidden, nor the other Free Cities, which openly practiced slavery, would ever treat their slaves with such cruelty. Perhaps only the 'Wise Masters' and 'Great Masters' of Slaver's Bay viewed slaves as little more than livestock.
Drogo’s archery was indeed impressive; in less than twenty minutes, he had emptied his quiver, killing a total of 36 civilians.
“Drogo! Drogo! Drogo!” The Dothraki chanted his name in praise.
To them, this was the ultimate display of power. Those civilians were considered spoils of war, and as such, Drogo could do with them as he pleased. He returned to his throne, satisfied. In his mind, Viserys now faced a no-win situation: if Viserys refused to shoot, he would lose the contest. But if he did shoot, he would be contradicting the very reason he claimed to have started the war—to protect civilians. To Drogo, whether Viserys chose to participate or not, he had already lost.
Dany found Drogo’s actions abhorrent, but she also knew Viserys was in a difficult position. So this was what the Dothraki meant when they said they would provide the prey. Dany looked at Viserys with concern, while he gazed at the small apples in front of him.
“Go give each of them an apple,” Viserys instructed Young Connington, who had turned to him, puzzled.
For a moment, Young Connington was unsure of Viserys’s intentions. He squeezed the apple between two fingers and said, “Tell them to hold it like I do.”
Suddenly, Young Connington understood Viserys’s plan. However, the difficulty was immense—hitting an apple instead of a person made the challenge far more daunting. Although Drogo had hit vital areas like the head and neck with each arrow, striking 36 apples in less than a quarter of an hour would be an extraordinary feat. If Viserys missed even one, he would be deemed a failure and ridiculed.
“Prince, do you really have to do this?” Young Connington asked.
“Though I never had a formal ceremony when I crowned myself Regent, I vowed to protect them,” Viserys replied, his gaze steady in the direction of the Horselord. “Go.”
Hearing his calm but resolute tone, Young Connington felt fortunate to serve such a leader.
When the other nobles learned of Viserys's plan, they were astonished. “He intends to save those people’s lives this way! Can he really do it?” Lady Methys kept her son’s eyes covered. Little Viserys squirmed in her arms, trying to push her hands away and see what was happening.
“He can definitely do it,” Roth said without hesitation. High Priestess Silicet had once said she could neither see Viserys’s future nor his destiny. Perhaps only someone as extraordinary as Viserys could have a destiny that remained hidden.
The sight of slaves with apples in their mouths even impressed Mellario. Though Norvos was a Free City that practiced slavery, and she cared little for the fate of slaves, Viserys’s actions showed that he was not a bloodthirsty man. This reassured her that Arianne would not suffer if she married him in the future.
While many admired Viserys’s actions, men like Tregar and Kambron felt only pressure mounting against them. Kambron, in particular, could no longer shake his doubts about the effectiveness of the Faceless Men.
'Wildfire! We need more wildfire!' Tregar thought as he watched Viserys from atop his horse.
