As soon as I opened my eyes, I found myself in the world of Game of Thrones as the second son of House Targaryen, the brother of the Mother of Dragons, Viserys! I found that the timing of this transmigration was a bit too bad. At this time, the Targaryen dynasty had already fallen, the guards who protected me and my sister had already died, there was no rice in the house, and there were people outside collecting debts. And I, after selling my mother's crown, became a Beggar King. Putting aside the matter of restoring the kingdom, I have to pay back my debt first. *This is a Translation* Name: 权游龙二哥 Author: 浴前带膘侍卫 Transliteration: Quan Youlong's Second Brother Author: Fat Guard Before Bath Raw:xiaoshuo.qq.com/detail/1049152280 Keep in mind that in the only available raws I found, there are only 100 public chapters, the rest are behind a paywall. I got more chapters by paying for coins or by acquiring them in the Chinese app.
Due to their proximity, both the Royal Fleet and the Dragonstone Fleet were anchored near the Mud Gate—one in King's Landing and the other not far off on Dragonstone. The more distant Fleet of the Arbor, belonging to House Redwyne, was stationed closer to the mouth of the estuary. The Arbor Fleet, after all, was connected to the family of the Old Rose. Inevitably, there would be collateral damage, but it was a necessary sacrifice.
As for the fleet from Casterly Rock, it still hadn't arrived, as it had to sail nearly halfway around Westeros to reach King's Landing. Viserys decided to wait until their fleet was in position before initiating his plan.
To ensure Robert's fleet would be completely engulfed in flames, Ronan had his men secretly place wildfire in every few warships. When the time came, the entire Blackwater Rush would ignite like a string of firecrackers. The iron chains blocking the river only needed to hold for half an hour to ensure that every warship got its share of destruction.
Although some ordinary soldiers would still be on the warships at that time, they would inevitably suffer, but Viserys calculated that this would impact only about a thousand men. This loss was minor compared to the original Battle of the Blackwater, where Stannis brought 20,000 to 30,000 men and managed to save only 2,000.
Led by Ronan, Viserys and his men rowed to the location of the winch tower. The banks of the Blackwater Rush were crowded with all manner of warships, their sails raised, creating two ribbons of color along the river. With masts standing in tight rows and hulls almost touching, Viserys could barely see the shore through this "wall of ships."
It was as if the water level of the Blackwater Rush had suddenly dropped, and the warships on both sides of the riverbank now resembled massive, oddly-shaped dikes. The river was lined with what seemed like thousands of ships, their banners filling the sky—a visual testament to the presence of most of Westeros' largest fleets.
This sight made Viserys feel a pang of regret. All these ships could have been his.
"Your Grace, we've arrived," Ronan said, bringing Viserys's attention back to the present as they reached the northern end of the Blackwater Rush. When they arrived, Viserys spotted a low lighthouse in the distance. Ronan's men were stationed around it, greeting him as he approached.
"You go about your business. I need to have a word with this lord," Ronan said, dismissing the others before turning to Viserys.
"Your Grace, this may look like a lighthouse, but it's actually a disguise," Ronan explained, pulling aside some weeds to reveal an iron chain as thick as a man's arm, buried in the mud. While Tyrion had openly built his winch tower, Ronan had to construct his in secret, obtaining "approval" by claiming the lighthouse would help guide ships. Beneath the lighthouse, a massive winch lay hidden, its true purpose concealed.
When Viserys was ready to set the fleet ablaze, all it would take was a pull of the chain to trap the warships in the Blackwater Rush, leaving them to burn and suffer devastating losses.
Suddenly, without warning, Viserys unsheathed his sword. The sharp gleam of the blade made Ronan's knees buckle, and he fell to the ground, thinking Viserys was about to kill him to keep the secret.
"Your Grace!?" Ronan's mouth went dry, and his throat tightened so much that he could barely speak.
"Ronan, kneel on one knee to receive your knighthood," Viserys reminded him.
'On one knee? An award?' Ronan's fear quickly turned to elation as he realized Viserys wasn't going to kill him. He lowered his head, taking in his surroundings, then straightened up, ready to receive the honor.
Viserys placed his steel sword on Ronan's shoulder and proclaimed, "Ronan, from this day forward, you are Lord Ronan. As for your fiefdom, I will allocate it after the war is won."
"A Lord!" Ronan felt as if a wave of thick, sweet nectar had surged through his heart, leaving him in pure bliss. "My loyalty will always belong to Your Grace!"
After Ronan stood, Viserys motioned to Jorah, who handed him a seal with a gold top and an obsidian base—a symbol of his new status. Ronan was eager to inspect the seal more closely but knew he needed to restrain himself.
It all felt like a dream. He had started as a bastard in the slums, never daring to hope for more. Thanks to Viserys, he had risen from pirate to noble, a transformation he could have never imagined. And now, in his twenties, a promising future lay ahead of him!
Viserys had chosen to bestow rewards before the battle because this was no ordinary conflict. If Robert retained his fleet, it could lead to a massive naval battle with countless casualties. Every life spared now meant one more soldier to fight against the coming darkness of the Long Night.
At this point, Ronan spoke up with a suggestion, "Your Grace, the southern bank of the Blackwater Rush is home to the barracks of the Stormlands and The Reach, while the northern bank houses those of the Riverlands and the Westerlands. If you'd like to take a closer look, I have the connections to get us in."
With his excellent social skills and Viserys's support, Ronan had quickly gained access to the lords' barracks, even in relatively central areas. Although some vendors and prostitutes managed to get close to the barracks, they remained on the outskirts. Ronan, however, had the privilege of striking up conversations with some of the lords themselves.
Viserys considered the offer and decided it was a good opportunity to gauge the attitudes of Westeros's rank-and-file soldiers toward the war. "Your Grace, which barracks should we visit first?" Ronan asked.
"The Westerlands, of course!" Viserys responded. He was eager to see the morale among the 'core strength' that had rebelled against him.
House Lannister was known for its love of scarlet, and their camps were a sea of crimson lion banners. Even the soldiers' armor was painted scarlet. Tywin Lannister had perfected the strategy of 'strong branches, weak trunk,' with the Lannister army alone comprising two-thirds of the forces in the Westerlands. Casterly Rock was the dominant power in the region and rightfully held the title of Warden of the West.
When the officer in charge of the guard saw that it was Ronan who had arrived, he hurried over with a smile. Barracks food wasn't known for its quality, but Ronan, being a local, often managed to procure some finer goods, including rare items like cigarettes. With a major battle looming, everyone was eager for a moment of relaxation.
"Lord Ronan!"
"Lord Hill," Ronan greeted, recognizing the man guarding the barracks gate. The guard was a bastard from Silverhill, and in the Westerlands, all bastards bore the surname 'Hill.'
Ronan almost finished shaking the officer's hand when he discreetly slipped a box of cigarettes into the man's palm. The exchange was so seamless that Viserys couldn't help but admire the effortless grace in Ronan's movements.
"Lord Ronan, any chance you could get us some spices? We've been eating nothing but fish lately, and I'm about ready to throw up!" the guard complained.
"Haha, no problem. I'll take a walk inside and see what the men need," Ronan replied with a chuckle.
"Sure, but you can't stay long today. Lord Kevan is expected before afternoon."
Viserys's ears perked up at the mention of Kevan Lannister, Tywin's younger brother and trusted right-hand man. The thought of assassinating Kevan crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. As he had resolved earlier, Viserys sought not just the Iron Throne but total dominance. To truly command the loyalty of the other lords, he needed to overwhelm them with undeniable power, not resort to underhanded tactics like assassination. Besides, he didn't want to set a precedent that might erode the moral standards of the Seven Kingdoms—a kingdom plagued by such treachery would be difficult to rule.
Ronan led Viserys on a tour of the Westerlands camp, and Viserys found himself impressed. Tywin's camp was every bit as formidable as one would expect from the Warden of the West, whose authority had been forged in war. Thanks to Tywin's excellent logistics, the soldiers' morale remained stable, despite the uncertainty surrounding the conflict. Moreover, rumors circulated through the camp:
"Viserys's dragons are still small, nothing more than oversized birds. Killing one won't be any harder than hunting a pheasant."
"We've got over a thousand warships—there's no way we can lose!"
After observing the soldiers, Viserys was curious about the attitudes of the lords. Ronan continued to guide him, leading the group deeper into the camp until they arrived at the tent of one of the lords. The banner outside depicted six shells arranged in a circle on a sandy beach.
Just then, a young woman approached Ronan. She seemed out of place among the rough soldiers—'A camp prostitute, perhaps?'
"Lord Ronan!" she called out.
Viserys was momentarily surprised. If there were a woman in the barracks, she was most likely a camp follower. But this girl looked different—she appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years old, carried herself with dignity despite her plain clothes, and didn't seem like "that kind" of woman.
"Lady Westerling," Ronan greeted her, his eyes lighting up with interest. The usually confident and smooth-talking Ronan suddenly seemed a bit nervous.
Viserys immediately understood—Ronan clearly liked this girl.
'Wait! Westerling? Jeyne Westerling? Isn't she Robb Stark's wife?' Viserys thought, glancing at the banner with the six shells. He realized this was the camp of House Westerling from The Crag.
Ronan, who had hoped to converse with Jeyne for a while, suddenly remembered Viserys's presence and became more formal, awkwardly reigning in his excitement.
"Lady Westerling, I've come to see what the soldiers might need so I can prepare some supplies," Ronan said, his voice a bit strained.
"Oh! Have you found out?" Jeyne asked with genuine interest.
"Well... uh... mostly," Ronan stammered, clearly flustered.
"Lord Ronan, I'd like to buy some 'Moonshadow' soap from you again," Jeyne said, pulling a few copper stars from the small bag she carried.
Normally, such a paltry sum wouldn't even earn a glance, let alone buy soap, but it seemed Ronan had previously 'sold' soap to Jeyne at this price.
Now, with Viserys standing beside her, Ronan was acutely aware that if the prince discovered he was using company resources to flirt, he might lose the knighthood he'd just been awarded.
"Well... Lady Westerling, Moonshadow is, um, a bit out of stock at the moment..." Ronan stammered, his voice low.
Viserys couldn't help but chuckle. 'Out of stock? Hardly.' So he spoke up, his voice carrying, "My lady, do you know what Moonlight Shadow actually costs? Nobles usually pay two or three gold dragons for a piece!"
"Two or three gold dragons!" Jeyne gasped, incredulous.
Viserys knew that The Crag wasn't a wealthy place; the Lord of The Crag had even sold off parts of his fiefdom. Although Jeyne could probably afford two or three gold dragons, the realization that she had been spending so freely on soap made her feel a pang of guilt.
"Ser Ronan, is this true?" Jeyne asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Ronan, knowing he couldn't lie in front of Viserys, could only nod helplessly. 'It's over—Your Grace is going to strip me of my title,' he thought miserably.
"I'm really sorry, Lord Ronan. I'll make up the difference," Jeyne said quickly, then turned to Viserys, sensing his authority. "And you, my lord, please don't blame Lord Ronan. He is a good man."
At this, Viserys stepped forward, taking charge of the situation. "In truth, this isn't such a serious matter," he said, his tone reassuring. "But I would like to ask Lady Jeyne a few questions, and I hope you'll answer honestly."
"Of course," Jeyne replied, leaning forward slightly, her sincerity evident. She didn't seem to notice—or perhaps didn't mind—that Viserys knew her name.
"The people behind us are considering whether to continue doing business with King's Landing," Viserys explained. "As you know, the Iron Throne now faces the Targaryens, who command seven dragons. I'd like to know, what do the lords of Westeros think of this war?"
Jeyne paused, considering the question. Although she was a woman, she was the daughter of a lord and had grown up surrounded by political discussions. She had heard much and understood more than most would expect.
"My lord, my father and many others don't think highly of King Robert. They believe Robert's rebellion was a mistake..." Jeyne hesitated, then added, "and that it has caused more harm than good."
In truth, House Westerling and the Lannisters have never been on good terms. For years, they have been overshadowed by Casterly Rock, with Tywin Lannister exerting his influence to suppress them, as well as other lords in the northwestern part of the Westerlands. This pattern of dominance isn't unique to the Westerlands; it's found across several other kingdoms as well. House Tully of Riverrun, for example, has long oppressed House Darry to the east. The Conningtons of the Stormlands, once powerful lords, have been reduced to landed knights—the lowest rung of the nobility.
"What if Robert defeats Viserys?" Viserys asked, testing her resolve.
Jeyne shook her head. "Even if King Robert defeats Viserys, it will be meaningless unless he can kill him, his sister, and all the dragons. And if Robert fails to defeat Viserys, Dorne and The Reach will likely break away from the Iron Throne, and nobles in other kingdoms might also rise against their overlords."
The Westerlings were astute when it came to politics. They had initially judged that Robb Stark would win the war and had thrown their lot in with him. But a series of unforeseen events had turned everything upside down. Not only did Stannis and Renly fail to take King's Landing despite their superior forces, but they also ended up fighting each other.
Now, with Viserys commanding seven dragons, the lords of Westeros no longer see Robert's victory as possible. Viserys can afford to lose battles, but Robert can only lose once. If the upcoming naval battle fails to secure the Stepstones and eliminate Viserys and his dragons, then Robert's cause will be doomed.
After his conversation with Jeyne, Viserys left the barracks with a sense of satisfaction. If the daughter of a lord could grasp the situation so clearly, then the other nobles of Westeros were surely thinking the same. Once Robert's fleet is destroyed, the houses that had rebelled alongside him will find themselves on the brink of ruin.
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