Chapter 192: Setting Out

In the blink of an eye, the days passed.

A new year was about to begin.

Andaros had its own celebrations for the new year, but Pentos held an even grander feast.

And it especially invited the exiled Young Dragon, who had a claim to the Iron Throne in Essos, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Son of the Sun, the Apostles of the Seven Gods, the Guardian of Andaros, and so on... This long list of titles almost covered the entire invitation.

Pentos solemnly invited Viserys to attend the feast, and Viserys did not refuse.

A month before he turned sixteen, just like the last time, he set out for Pentos with over a hundred knights and their accompanying archers, trumpeters, farriers, and others, making up a cavalry unit of more than two hundred people.

This time, Viserys did not bring thousands of people to Pentos in a grand display, because his army had already arrived at Ghaston Grey in advance, ready to begin construction on the Fortress of Heroes.

Merchants traveling from Pentos to Norvos, Qohor, and even those daring to sell goods to the Dothraki Sea had already discovered an army flying the Targaryen dragon banner stationed there.

Thus, Viserys did not make a big show of it and merely set out from Andaros to another city-state with just over two hundred people.

However, a few unassuming faces had joined his guard, including the bastard son of the Dreadfort's lord, 'Little Flayer' Ramsay Snow, who wore light leather armor, a black hood, and rode a black horse alongside Viserys.

The underground organization he now controlled, the 'Internal Affairs Department,' had expanded from its original five members to over twenty subordinates.

When not on missions, these people would mingle in Andaros's streets and alleys, taverns and brothels, and even among petty thieves and scattered low-level organizations.

This hidden gray area beneath the city's bright surface was where news circulated most frequently and was even closer to the lower class.

Ramsay, having once lived with the smelly man, was not particular about cleanliness and could even get along well with the rats in the sewers, calling each other brothers, and quickly established a territory in Andaros's gray area.

However, no one knew that this ruthless and even perverse man had the "cleanest" of identities, and could even directly contact the lord of this castle through his 'ears to the ground.'

It was unknown why Viserys had brought Little Flayer along on this trip to Pentos.

With his black hood, head lowered, and barely discernable face, Ramsay silently followed Viserys, like a hunting dog awaiting its target.

Viserys sat on his horse, his body swaying slightly with the warhorse's footsteps, as a group of cavalrymen surrounded him on both sides, and the long procession stretched far along the road.

The speed of the procession was not very fast, as if they were leisurely sightseeing in the countryside.

If it weren't for the recent sudden drop in temperature, the breath coming out of their mouths turning into white mist, and the fact that these soldiers wore armor and held shining long spears, it would have looked even more like a collective outing.

"Ramsay, have you taken care of the matter I entrusted to you recently?" Viserys asked lazily, turning his head.

"Yes, please rest assured."

Ramsey's face remained hidden within his hood, only slightly lifting his head and exhaling a white mist from the hood. His voice was somewhat hoarse.

"He will meet you at the appointed time and place."

Since taking on this job, Ramsey felt his abilities had improved significantly, and it seemed he had found a direction suitable for his development.

Once, he took pleasure in tormenting others, hoping that through such cruel means, he could prove to others that he was a 'true Bolton' and not a lowly bastard.

But no matter how cruel and insane Ramsey was at that time, nobody saw him as a 'true Bolton.' Instead, they all shunned him, viewing him as a repulsive monster.

Ramsey fell into confusion, unsure of his future path.

Perhaps as long as his older brother was alive, he would never become a 'true Bolton.'

Ramsey found the real answer. However, before he could carry out his plan, his father sent him across the sea.

Ramsey was grateful for the opportunity he had won at that time. His king, Viserys Targaryen III, showed him another right path.

At first, he didn't know how to proceed, but once he found the right way, he was intoxicated by it.

He enjoyed the feeling of secretly spying and eavesdropping, knowing all the secrets.

The seemingly glamorous knights were disgusting beasts in private, only capable of thrusting their fat bodies on women's bellies.

And Ramsey would stand quietly outside their windows at that time, his eyes calmly watching them, just like observing two pigs in his childhood stepmother's pigsty, mating with grunts and snorts.

He loved the feeling of mastering all the secrets, to the point that even the idea of being a 'true Bolton' faded away.

Of course.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be a Bolton, but he hoped that one day in the future, that old man would kneel at his feet, begging him to become a Bolton.

Such a scene...

Would be quite entertaining.

A shadowy face beneath the hood revealed madness.

…

Afterward.

Several more days passed in a flash.

Viserys and his cavalry passed through more than half of the Andras Plain, reaching an important turning point on one of the two land routes leading to Pentos.

This place could be seen on the map, jutting out sharply on the western side of the Velvet Mountains.

Viserys planned to build a sentinel tower here, as well as a small military harbor, mainly to guard against surprise attacks from the royal fleet across the Narrow Sea.

At the moment, the progress here was faster than at the Eyrie, mainly because there was less resistance, and the threat to Pentos was not as direct as that posed by the Eyrie.

The construction of the Eyrie was like a sword pressed against Pentos' throat, while the sentinel tower was more like moving a chair and sitting at their doorstep, watching them day and night.

The threats posed by these two were different.

And here.

A large ship, bearing no flags, silently docked at the shore, appearing to have been waiting for quite some time.

A ragged, white-haired old man stood quietly at the bow of the ship, gripping the railing.

He watched as the cavalry, flying the three-headed dragon banner, approached like a long serpent in the distance.