Skyrim System In Westeros

Wright and the two women crossed the Ragman's Harbor, heading eastward. After traversing several bridges, they reached the outskirts of Drowned Town. Although the buildings here were also three or four stories high, they were dilapidated and narrow inside — a haven for the city's poor and wandering mercenaries.

The area teemed with a diverse mix of people, constantly coming and going. Wright even spotted numerous individuals with platinum-blond hair and violet eyes. It was no surprise that pure-blooded Valyrian descendants were relatively common in Braavos, but despite this, no magical reaction was detected.

As the sky darkened, the atmosphere shifted. Residents began to don fine garments and masks, heading toward the more prosperous parts of the city to join the nightly revelries. The streets of Drowned Town gradually emptied.

Confidence born from exceptional strength had made Wright less vigilant than he should have been. Assassins or small squads posed no real threat to him anymore, leading to a certain recklessness. Yet, even he couldn't ignore the peculiar tension now surrounding them — the way the locals seemed to scatter, forming a void around their trio.

"I'll escort you back to the Sealord's Palace," Wright said to the two women. "There might be another attempt on my life, and I can't take risks with your safety."

Nymeria drew three rods from a sheath on her back, quickly assembling them into a long spear. Its tip gleamed with a sinister green hue, a product of Tyene's alchemical poisons. She then pulled a dagger from her belt and handed it to Tyene.

Tyene rarely carried weapons, relying instead on the small vials and leather pouches of poisons she concealed in her clothes. Taking the dagger, she brushed a finger along its edge. The blade emitted a faint blue glow, its toxic potency unmistakable.

The combined glow of green and blue made even Wright pause. The poisons Tyene concocted had often been modified from their original recipes due to ingredient scarcity, deviating significantly from their intended effects in the game. Still, poison's purpose was simple: lethality.

Drawing his sword, Dark Sister, Wright took the lead. In less than a week in Braavos, this was already the third time he'd been targeted.

The first attack had been a minor affair, a street duel between rival assassins over a woman. The second, however, involved a Faceless Man, which confirmed that someone wealthy or noble wanted him dead. Narrowing down the list of potential culprits was no easy task; there were many in Westeros who wished death upon the Baratheon brothers.

"Nymeria, Tyene, those drunks from this afternoon," Wright began. "At first, it seemed like a random brawl. But they weren't using the typical Braavosi thin swords; they had standard longswords. Analyze their background."

Tyene replied, "At first, they seemed too drunk to even walk straight. But the moment they grabbed their weapons, their combat readiness was immediate. If they weren't faking drunkenness, they must be hardened fighters accustomed to heavy drinking."

Nymeria added, "They're likely mercenaries."

Wright nodded. "Correct. They're mercenaries, and they've arrived!"

The streets of Drowned Town were narrower than in other parts of Braavos, with barely enough room for a single carriage to pass. The muddy ground added to the chaos. Ahead of them, a group of soldiers in simple breastplates, wielding longswords identical to the ones used by the so-called drunks, began advancing. The narrow streets made it impossible to see how many were hidden behind the corners, but the current group already filled the entire passage.

"More are coming from behind!" Nymeria called out. She and Tyene quickly turned, backing up against Wright, weapons drawn and ready to face the rear flank.

Wright turned and saw the same armored soldiers with matching weapons. The narrow street was now a trap, with their trio surrounded on both sides.

---

Inside the Palace of Truth

A rotund man with pale gray eyes and a bald head partially covered by wispy strands of hair was in conversation with Oberyn and the others.

Oberyn toyed with a dagger in his hand, spinning it idly. "So, how did you plan this operation?"

The fat man answered, "The brothers involved in the tavern skirmish weren't elite warriors, but they were the most well-liked men in the unit. I paid Viggen to take them to the tavern, stir up trouble with Wright, and ensure it escalated. Viggen died in the process, of course. Now, besides myself and the captain-general, no one knows the true origin of this affair.

"After their deaths, Captain-general Myles Toyne returned to the camp and broadcasted the story far and wide, claiming the killer was none other than a true magic user, a mage — and Robert Baratheon's youngest brother. He framed Wright as having murdered more than a dozen of our brothers. He's now rallying the Golden Company with a bold proclamation: we will be the first company in Essos to slay a mage."

The fat man turned and bowed to the Sealord of Braavos. "For this operation, we've deployed foot soldiers — about five hundred in total — with an additional few hundred armed onlookers trailing behind for the spectacle. The cavalry unit was discreetly removed from the city yesterday, with Intelligence Officer Lysono Maar ensuring they were plucked from the taverns and relocated outside the walls."

The Sealord, Ferrego Antaryon, gave a slight nod. "The Golden Company's involvement must conclude by midnight. After that, Braavos' City Watch will intervene."

The fat man responded, "Sealord, rest assured, the Golden Company will retreat before midnight."

Oberyn approached him, pouring a cup of wine and handing it over. "The cavalry unit must not suffer any losses. By the end of tonight, you will be the Captain-general of the Golden Company, Lord Harry Strickland."

Harry Strickland took the cup with both hands and downed the wine in one gulp. "Thank you, my lords, for your unwavering support. I will never forget your guidance and trust."

Oberyn smiled. "Return to the company and prepare to assume command. Intelligence Officer Lysono Maar will assist you."

Harry Strickland bowed deeply, his face glowing with excitement, and hurried off. As he left, he nearly stumbled over the edge of a rug in his haste.

Once Strickland was gone, the Sealord turned to Oberyn and asked, "Is that fool truly the man you've chosen to lead the Golden Company?"

Oberyn chuckled. "Precisely because he's a fool. He was raised by the Golden Company since childhood, while my men were brought in later."

The Sealord scoffed. "The Golden Company's combat prowess isn't to be underestimated. He could very well survive the chaos."

Oberyn's tone turned sharp. "My men will ensure his death. Daemon Sand!"

Daemon Sand stepped forward, emerging from the shadows where he had stood unnoticed.

"Your orders, Prince Oberyn."

Oberyn handed him the dagger. "Myles Toyne must not return to the Golden Company tonight."

Daemon Sand nodded silently and departed without a word.

Oberyn grabbed the wine bottle from the table and took a deep swig directly from it. "Ferrego, the Golden Company is wreaking havoc in Braavos tonight, and the City Watch is suspiciously absent. Your hand is undoubtedly in this. But you'd better think carefully — if the Golden Company fails to kill Wright, how will you make amends with him?"

The Sealord smirked. "Braavos is a city of canals and waterways. If Wright is fortunate enough to escape by diving into the waters, I will meet with him tomorrow and offer my sincerest explanations."

Oberyn's expression darkened. "Do you truly believe Wright is just some wealthy, privileged noble boy? I've said my piece. You should prepare for the worst outcome." He glanced at the bottle in his hand and added, "This wine is excellent; I'm taking it with me."

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