The final price caused the nobles to murmur among themselves. Though the contract was only for five years, five years was a long time—long enough for new players to emerge. Some of the weaker nobles had to consider whether they would even still have a place in the council hall by then.
Seeing that the majority seemed ready to accept the terms, Qaga, who had remained silent for some time, decided it was his moment to act. Had Rovi won the battle for Dragon’s Flame Fortress, the influence of the Alchemist’s Guild in Lys would have soared. But the defeat had left their previous investments unrecouped. Now, Qaga needed to step up and secure new advantages for the guild.
“Everyone, we know that an ambassador must possess both the courage of a warrior and the wisdom of a sage to fulfill his duties. Lord Viserys, please forgive my boldness, but this matter concerns the survival of Lys, and we must approach it with utmost seriousness.”
Viserys regarded him with a slight frown, recognizing the familiar maneuver. It wasn't unusual for someone to intervene just as a deal was about to close—often due to internal power struggles, just like when he had negotiated soap contracts with Morel. The man’s attire clearly marked him as part of the Alchemist’s Guild, which held significant sway in Lys. Having already dealt with Rovi, Viserys knew he couldn’t handle Qaga in the same manner.
Tregar, standing next to Qaga, also recognized his intent but knew he couldn’t interfere directly.
“Does the Lord think I’m unfit for the role of ambassador?” Viserys asked, his tone edged with challenge.
“It’s not that I doubt you, but I need to ensure that you truly possess the capabilities necessary, so that everyone can have peace of mind,” Qaga replied smoothly.
“Oh, I see. You want to test me?” Viserys’s eyes narrowed.
“If you must put it that way,” Qaga conceded.
“Then let’s proceed.”
The nobles in the hall leaned forward, curious to see how Qaga would test Viserys. Qaga gave a few quick instructions to his apprentice, and after about a quarter of an hour, two alchemist apprentices approached, carrying trays with goblets of wine.
“Lord Viserys,” Qaga began, “one of these two glasses contains Lys’s Tears, a poison I’m sure you’ve heard of, and the other is simply wine. One of these apprentices will speak the truth, and the other will lie...”
As Qaga explained the rules, many in the room exchanged uneasy glances, thinking Qaga was pushing his luck. Using poison in such a way was risky. Qaga’s plan was simple: if Viserys hesitated, it would cast doubt on his abilities, allowing the guild to push for better terms and solidify its influence.
But before Qaga could finish explaining the “rules,” Viserys acted. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured both glasses of wine into his mouth, drank them down, and then shattered the goblets on the ground.
“I bet there’s no poison in your wine!” he declared, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
In truth, Viserys had calculated that the wine was likely harmless. It was a high-stakes gamble, but he knew Lys needed him more than he needed them. Though he had already laid out why Tyrosh was about to face trouble, another crucial factor loomed: time. Without a swift and suitable ally, Tyrosh would break through Lys’s defenses, and while the invaders might eventually retreat, the nobles’ wealth would be plundered.
Lys desperately needed an emissary, and they needed one quickly.
Viserys assumed the wine was likely safe. But even if it wasn't, he was unafraid—he could ignite a flame in his stomach to neutralize the poison. As he lifted the glass, he discreetly opened his status panel, keeping a close eye on his “Health” attribute. When no reaction occurred, he was certain. Even if there had been a reaction, it would have only enhanced his mystique. Although not as dramatic as Daenerys's immunity to fire, the sight of someone drinking poison and remaining unharmed would be chilling enough to make an impression.
Qaga was stunned by Viserys's audacity. 'This is poison! Deadly poison! How could he not hesitate for even a second?' In truth, Qaga hadn’t poisoned the wine; he had been bluffing, trying to test Viserys's resolve. Now, he found himself the one outmaneuvered.
Viserys turned to the assembled nobles with a calm smile. "How about it, my lords? Is my courage sufficient?"
Qaga, feeling the situation slip from his grasp, conceded with a hint of reluctance. "Enough, but..." He still harbored doubts and wanted to use his wit to counter Viserys, but before he could, Viserys laid out his reasoning with such clarity that Qaga found himself with nothing more to say. With the five-year contract secured, the Windblown would soon triple in size, quickly becoming the largest army in the Free Cities.
...
After the meeting, Viserys and Qaga accompanied Tregar to his mansion. Though the title "Merchant Prince" was more symbolic than substantive, the mansion lived up to the name. While it couldn’t rival the grandeur of the Sealord’s palace in Braavos or the Archon’s residence in Tyrosh, the estate boasted an impressive fountain, garden statues, and a five-story house that showcased the wealth of its owner.
As soon as the carriage arrived, a slender blonde woman in a flowing blue gauze dress approached to greet them.
"You're back, my love," she said, her voice soft and welcoming.
"Yes, my love," Tregar replied, exchanging a few affectionate words with her.
The woman then turned to Qaga, acknowledging him politely, "Lord Qaga." When her eyes fell on Viserys, she hesitated. ‘And this is…?’
"I’m just a mercenary," Viserys interjected before Tregar could respond. The woman's initial interest waned immediately at this modest introduction.
"Just call me Lynesse," she offered, though her enthusiasm had noticeably dimmed. This was Lynesse Hightower, Jorah’s former wife.
"Let's go inside," Tregar suggested, relieved that Viserys had kept his identity concealed. Lynesse knew that Jorah had joined the Windblown and had recently led them to victory against Lys's forces. The thought had kept her awake at night, haunted by the memory of how she had flaunted her relationship with Tregar in front of Jorah. If Jorah had truly attacked Lys, she feared she might not have escaped unscathed. Had she known Viserys’s true identity, she likely would have broken down in tears.
The three of them proceeded to Tregar’s secret chamber to discuss the next steps.
“When do you plan to depart, my lord?” Tregar inquired.
"I’ll need to dye my hair first," Viserys replied. Tregar blinked in surprise but quickly understood. With Viserys's unmistakable silver hair and purple eyes, he would be recognized long before he reached the shore.
"How about three days from now? We’ll prepare a ship for you," Tregar suggested, nodding in agreement.