House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Chapter 141: Chapter 140 – Winds of Change (I)

Free City of Braavos, Palace of the Sealord.

Bessaro, the Sealord, trembled as he watched the letter explaining the damage caused by the Targaryen prince’s attack. The blood in his body nearly stopped at the news. He collapsed into his chair, drained of strength, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He knew he was in an extremely dangerous and deadly situation. His reputation had been destroyed by this attack. He hadn’t even had time to boast about the victory over White Harbor, and disaster had struck abruptly. Bessaro couldn’t imagine that Maekar had dared to cross the sea and attack Braavos directly.

It might seem foolish for him to think this way. But commanders didn’t take such risks on the battlefield. Attacking Braavos was the same as putting oneself in danger. He couldn’t believe Maekar had truly risked his own life over a city.

Shaking his head, Bessaro set these thoughts aside and focused on what was happening. He knew he was about to be deposed. The fall of the Titan was a sign, a sign capable of sending him tumbling from the mountaintop to the ground.

Thousands of years of history had ended in his hands. Bessaro could already imagine that he would be considered one of the most sinful men in Braavos. His name would become synonymous with arrogance, stupidity, presumption, and greed.

Braavos, which had never failed at anything in thousands of years, had its flawless reputation stained by a fourteen-year-old boy riding a damned giant dragon.

“My lord, the group of nobles is summoning you to the Sea Hall.” The First Sword of Braavos, protector of the Sealord, spoke in a calm tone, looking at the man he had served for ten years.

Bessaro showed a trace of sarcasm hearing his protector’s words. As for being deposed, the Sealord knew he couldn’t be deposed at this moment. Right now, no one wanted to be the Sealord. Being Sealord at this moment was the same as inheriting all of his predecessor’s problems, including a continental war.

Ask for peace, and you’d be considered weak; if you chose to continue the war, they’d call you a tyrant and a madman. Bessaro knew these people wanted him to humble himself before House Targaryen and beg for peace, thereby saving the reputation of the next Sealord.

However, it was exactly for this reason that Bessaro was confident he’d come out of everything that had happened alive. If these people wanted him to bear all the infamy, they’d have to pay him very well for him to accept such a thing.

Thinking about everything that had happened throughout the war, Bessaro wore a bitter expression. If it had been a normal enemy, Braavos would never have lost the war. Unfortunately, the enemy had aerial superiority that no country or city state in the world could deal with.

Weapons against dragons could be effective, but what good were they if the enemy could move to another battlefield in just a few hours? That kind of mobility was completely unfair to anyone who had no way of traveling faster.

The fall of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters proved a clear example of this. Beyond the internal problems among the three free cities, the rapid advance of the Targaryen forces made it completely impossible to defend properly.

The most incredible thing was that he was fighting against only two dragonriders. Bessaro wondered how his slave ancestors had lived. What was it like to live in fear of an army of dragonriders arriving at any moment?

Previously, Bessaro had thought that Old Valyria feared the Scorpions surrounding Braavos, but now he simply thought the Valyrians had been too lazy to bother destroying mere slaves who had fled far away.

Letting out a sigh, Bessaro straightened his clothes and left the room with a calm, cold expression.

As they walked down the corridor, Bessaro looked at the First Sword of Braavos and asked in a calm tone. “Peter, could you go to the House of Black and White and see if they’d accept a contract to kill Maekar Targaryen?”

Peter looked at the Sealord and answered in an equally calm tone. “I think the Sealord should reconsider. You could come out of this alive and live quite comfortably in one of your luxurious mansions, but if you add more fuel to the fire, you could die.”

Peter didn’t underestimate Maekar because of his young age; there was no way he’d underestimate someone capable of destroying a kingdom, fighting a Faceless Man, and destroying the Titan of Braavos. Underestimating someone like that wasn’t arrogance; it was stupidity.

Because of this, Peter advised Bessaro to control his thirst for vengeance. It was better to be alive and living well than to risk his only way out over something like revenge.

Bessaro fell silent. Of course he understood the implications of Peter’s words. Still, remembering that Maekar had destroyed his political life filled the Sealord with a resentment and anger he had never felt before.

He had lost everything, and Maekar was becoming king of an entire continent? Just thinking about it made Bessaro’s face twist with envy, anger, and resentment.

He couldn’t accept this outcome. Maekar had to die for him to feel even a little peace of mind. Or rather, he didn’t even need to die; losing an arm or an eye would be enough for Bessaro. Because it would mean Maekar would remember him for the rest of his life.

“Just do what I ordered.” Bessaro looked at Peter and spoke in a cold tone.

“We don’t have the money, my lord.” Peter showed a trace of helplessness in his expression and reported in a calm tone.

War was a gold-devouring lion. Even Braavos, one of the wealthiest cities on the planet, couldn’t sustain a war for long. They weren’t a centralized monarchy where the Sealord could hold that much power; there were disputes and power struggles within Braavos.

Not even the Sealord could control the entire city, since it was too complex.

“There will be a caravan bringing money from the Iron Bank. Gather loyal men and rob the entire caravan.” Bessaro thought for a moment and said in a calm, cold tone.

Peter’s eyes widened at what he was hearing. Rob the Iron Bank? That was even worse than plotting the death of a dragon rider showing an extremely large adult dragon.

If the robbery were discovered… Peter felt chills running through his body. He could imagine it would be complete chaos. Braavos would descend into civil war to recover the Iron Bank’s lost gold.

And once the truth came out, dying would be a gift from the gods, since his enemies wouldn’t let him die so easily. Swallowing hard, Peter looked at the Sealord and mentally apologized.

There was no way he could accept such a suicidal, insane mission. The consequences were too great. It wasn’t worth risking so much to kill a Targaryen prince who would never give Braavos a second thought.

“My lord, you must be mad with vengeance, but I am not.” Peter was direct in his words. The First Sword of Braavos served the Sealord, but that had its limits. Especially at times like this.

Bessaro stopped walking; he didn’t look at Peter. He stood still in front of the window, calmly looking out at the city below. After a moment of silence, he spoke in a rather casual tone. “Your daughter Nyria is a good girl, Peter. She came to play with my daughter a few hours ago.”

Peter’s face turned as cold as a snowstorm. He gripped the hilt of his sword and looked coldly at Bessaro. The Sealord kept staring silently at the window. The implication in his words was clear to anyone.

A threat.

Peter wanted to draw his sword and cut off Bessaro’s head, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t dare risk his own daughter’s life. He didn’t dare risk whether it was true or not, nor did he even dare think about whether Bessaro would actually do such a thing.

After a suffocating, heavy silence hung in the air, Peter released the hilt of his sword and refused. He looked at Bessaro and spoke in a calm, cold tone. “Very well, my lord.”

“I’ll watch you die and burn in the flames of hell.” Peter said, looking directly into Bessaro’s eyes.

He had no doubt that this man, mad with vengeance, would die painfully. Starting a war was one thing; starting a war against the Iron Bank was something else entirely. Although the damage might be similar, economic warfare killed silently; it was more frightening than knowing they’d die under dragonfire.

Bessaro didn’t care what Peter thought. He was certain he wouldn’t die, even by robbing the Iron Bank. The reason he thought this way was simple.

The Iron Bank couldn’t be placed in any city other than Braavos. Not just because Braavos was an economic hub, but because, without Braavos, the Iron Bank was like a defenseless maiden.

If the Iron Bank struck at Bessaro, it would be striking at Braavos.

If Peter had known the depth of Bessaro’s confidence, he probably would have been left speechless. It was true, but the Iron Bank could kill Bessaro in the shadows and blame anyone. Bessaro’s enemies wouldn’t even care how Bessaro died.

———–

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard