Chapter 399: White Worm Brothel

Royce froze at Aemond's words and responded in a deep voice, "Our primary goal is to drive Dorn's main force out of the Stormlands."

Aemond quickly pointed to the spacing between Mistwood and analyzed, "If we split a team to support Mistwood, we can block the retreat of the Dornish on three sides."

The Dornish fighting style involved hit-and-run tactics, constantly harassing their enemies. A team running from Mistwood could indeed block their retreat and prevent them from disappearing into the Rainwood like last time.

Royce involuntarily raised an eyebrow, sensing a different intention.

Cole, noticing the stalemate, spoke up, "My lord, we have two dragons; we can easily break through the Dornish line."

"You agree with the prince's strategy?" Royce asked rhetorically.

Aemond's gaze shifted to the tall Cole, scrutinizing him.

A drop of cold sweat dripped from Cole's forehead as he whispered, "We can arrange for Laenor to lead the rescue of Mistwood. He is eager to ride his dragon for battle."

As an lover, Cole had certain privileges.

Royce frowned and turned his head to look at Aemond, "What do you think?"

"Very well," Aemond agreed, "Laenor will go out to fight, and I'll stay in the Rainwood to clean up the remaining Dornishmen."

Royce reluctantly agreed, realizing it made sense. "I'll go back and organize the army. The king ordered three thousand soldiers to be sent to help in the battle. You'll stay in the camp."

He then directed his gaze at Cole, saying coldly, "Go to Ser Laenor and give the general orders."

"Yes, my lord," Cole replied hurriedly.

Royce barked a few more words to Aemond before walking out of the tent with his head lowered.

At times like this, the importance of command was emphasized. Having two dragon riders in the army greatly affected battlefield coordination.

Seeing Royce leave, Aemond's eyes were dark and calculating, contemplating how to deal with Lord Swann of Stonehelm. He was a man who held grudges.

The House Swann opposed his fiancée's inheritance of Storm's End and slandered Targaryen's reputation with their words. He intended to take out his anger ruthlessly.

Sensing the tension, Cole swallowed and hurriedly excused himself. He needed to find Laenor. The absence of his mate for the last few days had made him a little paranoid.

...

It was nighttime, and the stars shone brightly.

In King's Landing, the night wind blew gently, dispelling the day's dry heat and bringing a slight coolness.

The urban area, cluttered with buildings, had streets and alleys as tangled as tree roots, with dilapidated shacks everywhere.

As far as the eye could see, unclothed people gathered in the shacks, holding broken bowls and drinking a food called "brown soup."

Occasionally, a few children scurried about, stealing and foraging in groups.

This was Flea Bottom, the most disorganized part of the city, where even the gold cloaks were unwilling to patrol.

Crunching...

A horse-drawn carriage stopped in front of a short stone building, its wooden wheels grinding on the crumbling stone road.

The formerly intact green stone slabs, worn down by years of wear and tear, were trampled to pieces.

If it weren't for the daily cleaning of the streets, the stone slabs would be covered in foul-smelling feces and urine, making it impossible to see their true appearance.

A young man on the carriage, alert and cloaked in black robes, scanned his surroundings.

Not far away, a stone building was brightly lit, and the sounds of men and women making love echoed.

On the top floor of the short building, in a hidden attic, sat the White Worm, Mysaria. She wore a black velvet hooded robe trimmed with blood-red silk.

Her pale, beautiful face was calm as she sat with her legs crossed on the edge of the attic window, gazing through the window at the night view.

Based on her appearance and temperament, she looked more like a noblewoman who had been through a lot rather than a prostitute.

"Lady Mysaria, thank you for waiting."

A black-robed man pushed the door in, removing his hood to reveal his true face.

It was none other than Otto Hightower, who had close dealings with the White Worm.

As soon as Otto entered, he asked directly, "I heard you were planning to leave. Is your money still sufficient?"

"There's no need to worry, I've saved up quite a bit over the years."

Mysaria turned her head and glanced meaningfully at him.

"That is the payment you deserve," Otto said nonchalantly. "Since you are leaving, are you reselling some key information?"

"By iInviting you here, this is exactly what I want to do."

Mysaria didn't waste words and said frankly, "I have some friends in Lys, and the disputed land is a mess right now. They need a lord like you."

She emphasized the word "lord."

In all fairness, Mysaria admired the Targaryen Heir Prince and was relieved to see what had happened to the Triarchy.

They were three city-states full of slavery, and that was where she had lost her freedom.

But the rules of the world were dirty by nature.

When the original lords of the Triarchy were purged, a new set of lords would take their place.

Otto ignored her banter and first asked about Lys's situation before saying, "Myr is quiet?"

"In the Triarchy, Myr looks quiet, but there are dark currents."

Mysaria's eyes glazed over as she said, "Lys has been stabilized by the Heir Prince, Daemon has violently suppressed Tyrosh, and only Myr is still in chaos.

The Queen Who Never Was was uncrowned in the end, not a queen.

Rhaenys had a strong character but didn't have much experience in governing a city-state.

The peace of Myr depended on the Unsullied Legion and the Knights of the Vale.

Otto nodded, wondering how he could benefit from this.

Listening to the Heir Prince's words, Myr would adopt a monarchical system similar to King's Landing.

He could use his sons, nephews, and close associates as advisors. He could also use the fleet from Old Town to lead the opening of sea trade and control the resources of Myr's ports.

Similar tactics were used by Hightower throughout.

Politics was more than war; it was also connections and wealth.

Whew!

A wisp of cool wind blew into the attic, causing the candlelight on the chandelier to sway.

Mysaria lowered her sleeves to cover her bare, pale skin and took the initiative to speak, "Braavos has gathered a group of mercenaries, and the harbor of Sunspear receives a batch of goods every three days."

"If you truly have the heart to serve your realm, you should focus on this and urge the king in the Red Keep."

Otto looked back slightly and said faintly, "I will."

Mysaria glanced at him and realized that he didn't take her words to heart. With a secret sigh, she felt a twinge of disdain.

She was a dancer by birth, then became a prostitute, and was taken in as a mistress by Daemon. She reached her current position step by step on her own, without relying on Daemon's help.

Despite her lowly background, she still had a heart of compassion. The Battle of the Narrow Sea had killed too many people, and Flea Bottom was home to many more homeless orphans. If the Dornish War started again, there would only be more refugees flooding into King's Landing.

Otto raised his eyelids, his eyes extraordinarily deep. She was just a whore, or Daemon's mistress. He wouldn't have looked twice if she didn't have some use.

If he really wanted to talk about kindness, he had rescued an unknown number of people when he was the Hand of the King. As Master of Civil Affairs at the time, he also helped clear land and plant fields to help the displaced people settle down and start their own families.

But Mysaria? She was a maggot who sold her flesh, ran brothels for profit, and bought orphans and vagabonds to gather information.

Low to the bone!

Otto stayed for a while longer before offering his farewell.

"King's Landing is crowded with people," Mysaria said, looking at her pale fingertips. "I'm leaving. Some small spiders I can't take with me, I'll leave them for you to use."

Otto paused, glancing at the calm, pale woman out of the corner of his eye. After a moment's thought, he pushed the door open. "I'll have someone send you a sum for your troubles."

Outside the door, several boys of varying heights stood waiting, all scruffily dressed orphans.

"My lord!"

The orphans greeted with low bows.

Otto's face was impassive as he nodded. "Gather information for me and I will pay you a reward."

The orphans, surprised, glanced at Mysaria in the room.

Mysaria didn't even raise her head and casually said, "This lord is very rich, you should know that."

These orphans often traveled between various "adults" and were very discerning. Hearing they were to join another master, they all bowed to Otto and ran out of the building in a puff of smoke.

Otto did not care, put on his hood, and followed them downstairs.

When silence returned to the attic, Mysaria turned back to the night view of King's Landing, which she had long since grown tired of seeing. It was hard to not get attached after being in one place for so long.

Unfortunately, it was also a dirty, stinking cesspool.

Full of worms, she thought.

...

Red Keep

The banquet hall was alive with the sound of drums and music, filled with countless nobles dancing and celebrating. The news of the Triarchy's collapse had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, carried by royal ravens.

Taking advantage of the Maiden's Day festivities, it was a grand celebration. Viserys sat in the main seat, laughing and drinking wine. If the hall wasn't so crowded, he might have joined the dance floor himself.

Halfway through his drink, he looked around and noticed none of his children, including Rhaegar, were present, as if by some unspoken agreement.

Viserys felt a twinge of discouragement. The seat beside him, meant for Queen Alicent, was also empty. She had cited ill health and left the table early.

(Word count: 1,706)