Chapter 227: The Dancing Little Man

Due to the interference of the dim light and swirling gray mist, Viserys and Young Connington hadn't noticed that someone else was sitting on the throne. Upon closer inspection, they saw a small figure slouched on the tall seat. 'That must be the Shrouded Lady, Valsha,' Viserys thought.

As far as Viserys knew, the only people who still spoke the Rhoynar language were the so-called "Greenwater Orphans" in Dorne. These people had refused to follow Nymeria to Westeros, stubbornly maintaining their Rhoynar language and way of life. 'When I was in Dorne, I didn't think to learn a foreign language,' Viserys recalled. But he did remember Shiera mentioning that a Viserys of House Sennesta had once sought out the Shrouded Lady. 'That means she should understand Valyrian,' he concluded.

Taking a deep breath, Viserys spoke aloud, "Princess Valsha, I am Viserys."

His voice echoed through the vast main hall, but the figure on the throne remained silent for a long time. Finally, the person spoke, drawing out the name slowly, as if it had triggered a long-buried memory.

"V-I-S-E-R-Y-S-"

Her voice quickened slightly as if something had clicked in her mind.

"Viserys... Viserys," she repeated, as if testing the name on her tongue.

Viserys and Young Connington stood just outside the hall, listening intently.

"You are Viserys," the Shrouded Lady finally managed to say.

Bowing slightly, Viserys replied, "My respects, Princess Valsha. I am Viserys Targaryen."

"Targaryen?" she murmured, a faint sigh escaping her lips. "Targaryen, Targaryen..."

Another wave of memories seemed to unfold within her mind. After a moment, a faint voice emerged from the throne.

"Never heard of..."

It was said that the Targaryens were relatively unknown in Valyria back then. After all, they were just one of the 40 Dragonlord houses, but why were they so unremarkable?

"Never mind, come in first."

With her permission, Viserys crossed the threshold and entered the main hall. His peripheral vision caught the sight of two curved staircases on either side of the hall, extending to the back of the throne and leading up to a 'second floor.' In front of the throne, seven petrified corpses in armor knelt, their posture suggesting that they had once been Valyrians. Some of them had likely been dragon riders.

Viserys and Young Connington approached the corpses, stopping before the throne. "Princess Valsha," Viserys said.

"Are you a Valyrian?" she asked.

"Yes," Viserys replied after a short pause. "Valyria is gone, and I am but a remnant of it."

A noise came from the throne, a sound that could have been either a snort or a response. After a long silence, the figure on the throne stood and began to walk forward. As she moved away from the shadows cast by the dragons, a mummy-like creature, about 1.6 meters tall and wrapped in bandages from head to toe, approached Viserys. It was the Shrouded Lady, Valsha.

Seeing such a strange being for the first time, Young Connington instinctively rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Viserys glanced at him and signaled for him to relax.

As Valsha drew closer, Viserys was surprised to catch the scent of grapefruit emanating from her. Her head was also wrapped in cloth, leaving only her mouth and eyes exposed. "Huh, your name is also Viserys," she remarked. "That's interesting."

When she reached them, she asked, "What is it that you want from me?"

"My noble Princess Valsha, I hope you will allow my army to pass through Chroyane," Viserys requested.

Valsha's eyes flashed with coldness. "A thousand years ago, the armies of the Valyrians came to Chroyane and destroyed my home. And now, a thousand years later, the armies of the Valyrians are coming to Chroyane again? Do they intend to destroy it once more?"

Her words were laced with deep-seated hatred. Viserys knew that saying something like, "That was a thousand years ago. What my ancestors did has nothing to do with me," would only provoke the Shrouded Lady further. In this delicate situation, it was crucial to steer the conversation in a more favorable direction.

"Princess Valsha, hundreds of years after the Valyrian invasion of Chroyane, they too suffered a catastrophic Doom and have now perished. I know this may not bring you comfort, but do you know of Nymeria?"

"She is my aunt."

Hearing this, Viserys felt a slight sense of relief - he had found a connection. "The descendants of Princess Nymeria and the people of Rhoynar live in Westeros now, but I understand the Long Night is coming. I hope to face it with them, but first I must end this war as soon as possible. That's why I've come to you, to ask for passage through Chroyane.

Viserys hoped to stir her sympathy by appealing to their shared bloodline. Perhaps recognizing his sincerity, Valsha decided not to make things difficult for him. "Since you are also Viserys, you know my condition, right?" she said with a hint of a smile.

Viserys nodded, trying to recall some amusing topics or stories, but he wasn't skilled at telling jokes. 'If only I had the Red Viper or the Imp here,' he thought, 'they could probably make her laugh.'

'Do I really have to use those old memes from the internet in my past life?' Viserys wondered, feeling torn. But he had no better option at the moment.

He held out his right hand in front of Valsha, spreading it open as if holding something invisible. Then he gave it a slight shake, and both Valsha and Young Connington watched him curiously.

"You see, there's a little person dancing on my hand," Viserys said.

Valsha sneered, "Are you trying to trick me? Where's the little person?"

Young Connington looked at him nervously, silently questioning, 'What are you doing, Prince? Why are you teasing her?'

Viserys felt his own nerves fraying, but he persisted stubbornly, "Really! There is a little person on my hand." He licked his lips and added, "Look, I want to take off his clothes."

He gently mimed lifting something off his hand with his left hand, as if undressing an invisible figure. "Can you hold his clothes for me?" he asked.

Valsha's eyes, hidden beneath her headband, flashed with suspicion, but she reached out and took the "little man's clothes" from Viserys's hand.

Young Connington, standing nearby, stared in disbelief, thinking his eyes were deceiving him.

Viserys nodded and said, "You see, now the little man is dancing naked in my hand."

Valsha looked at him with a mixture of displeasure and curiosity. "There is no little man; you're just playing a trick on me!"

"There is a little man," Viserys insisted, "his clothes are still in your hands."