Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 131: I Prefer You When You’re Unruly

In battles of this magnitude during the cold-weapon era, the typical casualty rate rarely exceeds 20%. However, this battle was an exception, with total casualties reaching an astonishing 40%.

The Windblown suffered fewer than 150 casualties, including minor and serious injuries as well as fatalities. The losses on Tyrosh's side were less clear, though they were substantial. Between the poison mist, the chaos of the stampede, and the enemy's relentless assault, even their victory felt hollow—a pyrrhic triumph.

Viserys had also taken note of the “poisonous fog bombs” deployed by Lys. The design was impressive, a testament to the skill of the Lys Alchemist's Guild. If circumstances allowed, Viserys thought, there might be valuable secrets to extract from them.

As the heroes of the battle, some officers of the Windblown were invited to Toland's camp for a victory celebration. As they entered Tyrosh's camp, they were greeted by the screams of the wounded and the overpowering stench of blood. Many soldiers who had survived the poisonous fog were now blind, a grim reminder of the battle's cost.

Suddenly, Viserys noticed a Tyrosh soldier with a large black and red scab on his neck—evidence of a suicide. He asked, “What happened to him?”

A soldier carrying the body, seeing that Viserys was a member of the Windblown, answered, “His eyes were blinded by the poison. I guess he didn’t want to burden his family, so…”

Though accustomed to the harsh realities of war, the sight unsettled Viserys. He had seen corpses before, but rarely had he encountered someone who preferred death over life. Sometimes it wasn’t the brutality of the battlefield that struck the deepest, but the despair that followed.

As they continued through the camp, Viserys saw more soldiers who had taken their own lives. Under Tyrosh’s law, those who couldn’t repay their debts became slaves to settle what they owed. To spare their families from being enslaved due to their injuries, some soldiers, feeling they had lost their ability to work, chose to end their lives.

Viserys’s gaze then fell upon a middle-aged soldier with blue hair streaked with gray. The man sat silently beside the body of a young soldier, likely his son. The young man’s chest still had a broken spear embedded in it, too deeply lodged in bone to be removed. The older man, with the stoicism of a weathered tombstone, did nothing but sit in mute grief.

The old captain, watching Viserys, was surprised by his expression. He hadn’t expected such a scene to affect Viserys, yet he saw genuine pity in his eyes. It was a rare quality in a warrior. The captain had learned of Viserys’s boldness, charging into battle with only 300 men, and this unexpected display of compassion revealed a different side to him.

‘Is it possible,’ the captain wondered, ‘for someone to be both a fierce warrior and a compassionate soul?’ He found it difficult to recall anyone who fit that description; warriors were usually defined by their bloodlust and love for battle, with Bloodbeard being a prime example.

He patted Viserys on the shoulder, signaling that he should take a moment to collect himself.

“Captain,” Viserys said quietly, “if you conquer Pentos one day, be kind to the civilians. Only then will your rule endure.”

The old commander was taken aback by the advice. The word “civilians” struck him as foreign, something he had rarely considered. But he had always regarded Viserys with respect, not as a junior, and took his words to heart, seeing them as wisdom worth remembering.

Soon, the group arrived at Toland's tent. As before, the sound of musicians singing and playing instruments could be heard from afar. Compared to the rest of the camp, Toland’s tent felt like an entirely different world—immaculately clean and filled with the enticing aroma of food. To celebrate the victory, Toland had prepared an abundance of food and wine. Now that they had won, there was no point in holding anything back.

As they entered the tent, the scene before them was even more extravagant and opulent than their last visit. Rich carpets lined the floor, and a dozen dancing girls twisted their bodies with abandon. These dancers were barely clothed, draped in strings of pearls that served more as provocative ornaments than actual clothing, designed solely to ignite their master’s desires.

Dick and Caggo, who had accompanied the group, were completely entranced. The long table before them was laden with steaming dishes and fine wine, ready to be enjoyed. For these nobles, it felt as though they had just emerged victorious from a game of “turning the tables in a desperate situation,” and the suffering outside seemed a distant memory. Now, their only focus was on indulging in the pleasures before them.

“Oh, Lord Commander!” Toland’s greeting was far warmer than at their last meeting. Along with his armor, he had shed his arrogance and prejudice, now genuinely grateful for the Windblown’s assistance.

“Come, try this. It’s a liquor,” Toland said, personally pouring a glass for the Tattered Prince, his demeanor filled with flattery.

“General Toland, why don’t you recover? I prefer you when you’re unruly,” Viserys remarked with a mocking tone.

“No, no, a true friend deserves my most sincere attitude,” Toland replied, turning to pour a glass for Viserys, practically groveling as he handed it over.

“I wonder how many permanent positions can the General provide for us?” Viserys asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. Toland began to laugh, knowing well the saying that one should use people in times of need, not discard them afterward. With the battle nearly over and the threat of family ruin and enslavement averted, this matter would need careful discussion.

“No hurry! I will discuss this with the Archon when I return, and a satisfactory answer will be given. And when we return, there will be a victory celebration waiting for us!” Toland said, trying to reassure him.

Viserys, however, had no interest in the banquet Toland spoke of. If the ruling classes of the three Free Cities in the Disputed Lands were all like this, then he would need to strategize carefully. It was a travesty that such fertile lands were governed by such useless people.

The so-called banquet did not last long. The next morning, Toland departed with the remainder of his army, leaving a portion behind to guard Dragon’s Flame Fortress. Given the losses they had suffered, some of the Windblown had to stay as well.

Upon their return to Tyrosh, Archon Kambron had indeed prepared a grand welcome for them. At the celebratory banquet, Kambron announced his new ambition: to conquer Lys.

If successful, they would gain control over the vital choke point of the Narrow Sea, raising Tyrosh’s revenues to unprecedented levels through toll collection. However, the old captain harbored concerns that Kambron’s appetite might be too large, and his ambitions too dangerous.