NOVEL NEXT Chapter 150 Women will only affect the speed at which I draw my sword
Women will only affect the speed at which I draw my sword, but a rich woman will buy me the fastest and best sword. Ian thought of this sentence inexplicably.
The daughter of Marianne Frega, the richest keykeeper in the Iron Bank, and the sister of Prince Hazan. Not to mention that her family’s genes are indeed invincible, and the whole family’s looks are already perfect.
Even if Celia is a bit ugly, can she refuse such an opportunity to establish a direct and stable alliance with the Iron Bank?
The world will deceive you, but money will not.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I didn't fully understand what you meant?" Ian needed to make sure that this was not his own fault.
"Ian, your Darry family has a 6,000-year-old bloodline, and our Freygar family" Hazan did not say his father's surname, the Moharis family, "are equally ancient and glorious, and you are now His Majesty Viserys. Hand of the King, in my opinion, you and my sister are a match made in heaven, so..."
"I would be honored, Your Highness," Ian said without letting Hazan ask the question a second time, showing a look of surprise and excitement - half of it was true, but more of it was because he was used to it.
"To be honest," he glanced at Celia next to him and compiled it with ease, "When I first saw your sister at Drogo's banquet, she had already occupied my whole heart. I request you to marry your sister to me."
"Of course," Hazan laughed, surprised by Ian's suggestion, "Then, we will be brothers from now on, maybe you can do it as soon as possible"
"However," Ian interrupted Hazan, "I hope that our engagement date and even the news itself will be announced after I help you successfully convince Governor Illyrio. You know, Governor Illyrio is still here for the time being. Didn't agree to join our camp," Ian directly used the word "us" and counted himself as a Hazan person,
"If word of my engagement with my sister-in-law were spread at this time, it might destroy the 'objectivity' of my suggestions in Governor Illyrio's heart, and even affect Illyrio's trust in me. This would be very detrimental to me. Lobbying Governor Illyrio." After Ian finished speaking, he secretly observed Hazan's reaction.
This is what Ian is most worried about. The time he expects to break with Illyrio is after seizing Slaver's Bay, not now.
Even if he had to break up early, he would at least have to wait until he left Pentos with the Horse King and the others. Only then would he be considered free from Illyrio's influence.
After hearing Ian's proposal, Hazan obviously hesitated for a moment, and then nodded in agreement: "You are right, Ian, I ignored this. We really cannot announce this news now."
He had no intention of winning over Illyrio! Ian suddenly felt like this.
Hazan's hesitation just now and his behavior when he proposed to him in the morning that he could help him persuade Governor Illyrio to join his camp all illustrate this point.
But, how is this possible?
"I will convince Lord Illyrio as soon as possible," Ian made a new test, and he assured Hazan, "I believe this will not keep my sister waiting for too long."
"This is your freedom, Ian." Hazan agreed readily without raising any objection.
You actually agreed? how come? Ian frowned.
Suddenly, he saw Jorah walking to the preparation area under the fighting platform. "Look, Jorah is on the field. Enjoy his battle, Your Highness." He took the opportunity to temporarily end the conversation.
Hazan heard this and looked towards the battle stage. The previous battle was a matter of life and death. The victor secured his qualification to participate, while the challenger left his life on the field.
The slaves in the arena went on stage as usual, dragged away the corpses on the sand, cleaned up the internal organs and severed limbs scattered on the ground, and then spread a thick layer of yellow sand on top to cover up the traces of blood.
Following the referee's horn, Jorah and his opponent stepped onto the fighting stage.
At this time, Jorah Mormont put on his iconic composite plate armor. He held the sword in both hands, the tip of the sword pointed at his opponent, and the height of the arm was at shoulder level.
His opponent was a typical slave warrior, dark-skinned, short and fierce, only as tall as Jorah's chest, but his steps were so nimble that Jorah did not dare to attack him easily.
The slave warrior held a steel hatchet in one hand and a log shield in the other. The two of them rotated around the edge of the fighting platform, both trying to find flaws in their opponents.
As Ian watched the game, he thought about Hazan's anomalies.
On the battlefield, the two sides launched several tentative attacks, metal collided, and sparks flew out. However, the two quickly broke away from contact after the exchange, and walked around each other just like before.
Ian counted that Jorah's sword slashed the opponent's log shield three times, leaving only a small scratch on it, and then splashing a small amount of wood chips.
The slave warrior launched a total of six attacks, three of which failed. Two attacks failed to break through Jorah's breastplate, and one was blocked by Jorah's arm armor.
This kind of competition of bringing your own equipment is not fair. The party with better protective gear obviously has an advantage.
But it is not absolute. After all, Prince Hazan and Suda Tetrus have sufficient funds to equip the agent warriors on both sides with the best armor. If some warriors refuse, it only means that heavy armor will hinder their combat effectiveness. .
A sudden burst of cheers interrupted Ian's thinking. It turned out that the slave warrior finally moved. He rushed towards Jorah, facing Jorah's iron sword, and then the two weapons were about to touch. , lowered his waist and slid on his back.
The slave warrior let out a low war cry, dodged Jorah's sword that struck his head, lowered his body and stepped on the yellow sand on the ground, suddenly sliding, and slashed between Jorah's legs with the short ax in his hand. go.
Jorah's reaction was extremely fast. Just as the opponent was sliding down, he had already raised his knees and used the steel greaves to push against the opponent's chin. When the two sides collided, the slave warrior was immediately knocked away and shattered. His missing teeth fell all over the floor, and a few sticky blood streaks were pulled out from his mouth.
And his insidious ax also deviated from the target due to the sudden heavy blow, hitting Jorah's skirt armor, and the hand ax got stuck on the ground.
The slave warrior had just gotten up, and before he had time to wipe off the yellow sand on his bloody face, Jorah's sword came in front of him, and he had to grab a handful of yellow sand and sprinkle it at Jorah.
Taking advantage of the moment Jorah turned his head to dodge, the slave warrior jumped up, rushed to Jorah's feet, hugged his legs and pulled with all his strength. Jorah, who was wearing heavy armor, fell to the ground with a crash, and the armor touched the ground. The collision made a clang sound, and then a burst of yellow sand splashed up.
"It's a dirty play," Prince Hazan said sideways to Ian. "Many knights in Westeros will sneer at this, but it can bring victory."
"No, Jorah is not a knight either." Ian shook his head. Jorah's strength surprised him. It seems that the plot of the Arena of Meereen in the TV series was not nonsense.
Sure enough, when the slave warrior took advantage of Jorah's fall to the ground, he jumped on him and tried to insert a dagger into the gap between his gorget and shoulder armor to kill him. Jorah hit the slave warrior in the face with his iron-helmeted head. It hit hard and instantly broke the slave warrior's nose.
Then, taking advantage of the opponent's inability to open his eyes, he used his knee to push the opponent's lower body. Jorah flipped him to the ground and slapped his face hard with his iron-gloved hands. Suddenly, the slave warrior His face was beaten to a bloody pulp, his facial features could not be distinguished, and dark red blood slid down his cheeks.
After confirming that the opponent had temporarily lost the ability to resist, Jorah stood up and stepped on the slave warrior's right hand holding the dagger... there was a sound of broken finger bones that only the slave warrior himself could hear, and then Jorah took it from his hand. The dagger slit his throat mercilessly.
The next moment the entire arena erupted in cheers.