However, given the circumstances, Morel could only comfort himself. He noted that both Helbo and Regis seemed to respect the Beggar King greatly. Perhaps this descendant of the Targaryens truly possessed some unique talents. With a sigh, Morel sent his son away and tried to maintain a positive outlook.
...
Viserys was unaware of Morel and his son's reservations. He only knew that this job suited him perfectly. After receiving the map, he went straight to the workshop to study it. The workshop was situated on a hill with a lower elevation to the east and a waterway to the south. The workshop's sewage had turned the waterway murky, but in these medieval times, providing jobs and feeding people took precedence over environmental concerns.
Viserys quickly devised a plan for sentry posts and patrol routes. He divided the more than thirty people into two groups, with him and Regis each leading a team in two shifts. Initially, Morel shared his son's skepticism about Viserys's abilities. But upon seeing Viserys's meticulous arrangements, he felt inexplicably reassured. Despite his lack of understanding in these matters, the professionalism that Viserys exuded instilled a sense of trust.
Viserys's constant presence at the various posts and his direct intervention when someone slacked off further solidified this trust. While some were unhappy with his strictness, they dared not express it openly. Most had witnessed him easily overpower Regis with one hand.
Rabbi, however, still harbored resentment. Assigned to the day shift by Viserys, he felt insecure during the day and couldn't sleep well at night.
A week had passed since Viserys' arrival at the workshop, and things had remained quiet. Viserys also noticed a change in his own physiology. Since his Constitution upgrade, his need for sleep had decreased. Now, less than seven hours of sleep was enough to keep him energized for the day.
...
“Burn them all!”“Burn! Burn!”“Ahhhhh~”
The orange flames swept through the workshop like a storm, engulfing everything in their path. The roaring inferno drowned out the cries of people and consumed the whale oil along with countless lives.
Viserys, who had just fallen asleep, suddenly opened his eyes. The thousand-degree flames had surrounded his quarters. In his dream, he had seen several figures emerging stealthily from the water, attacking the workshop and causing a massive fire. His Dragon dreams had been triggered.
Someone had breached his defenses, but his plan was solid. The patrols were designed to respond swiftly, with the ability to gather reinforcements within minutes. Each team member had a specific role, including one dedicated to communications. Unless faced with an army, they should have been able to hold their ground.
This breach could only mean two things: either someone had slacked off, abandoning their post, or Helbo's rapid expansion had allowed for infiltration by enemy spies.
These street thugs were no match for professional soldiers. Viserys had wisely moved the rest area to the south near the ditch, anticipating such a scenario.
With no time to call for reinforcements, Viserys decided to take action himself. He quickly donned his leather armor, grabbed his long sword and dagger, and jumped out of the window.
His immediate goal was to assess the situation and coordinate the patrol members to get help.
...
At this time, a member of the patrol stood by the waterway, looking left and right. Seeing that the other two team members were not far away, he relaxed a little. Suddenly, something felt wrong. He couldn't immediately pinpoint the issue.
“Wait! The toad isn't croaking!”
The patrol member immediately became vigilant, recalling Viserys' teachings. Viserys had told them to pay attention to their surroundings while patrolling. Frogs, toads, and crickets, for example, would stop croaking if someone approached. This could help determine the direction and location of an enemy during patrols.
The patrol member shouted in a threatening manner toward the waterway:
“Who’s there? Show yourself!”
This bluffing tactic was also taught by Viserys.
The leader of the intruders was annoyed. Viserys's patrols were too well-organized. They had been watching for days but had not found a suitable place to breach. Even the filthy waterway was patrolled. However, since there were fewer patrols here, they decided to attack from this direction. They thought the patrol would be easy to deal with, but the patrolman's vigilance was beyond their expectations.
“Who goes there?”
The patrolman was flustered when he saw a dozen men appear suddenly, so much so that his voice wavered. In the moonlight, he saw the glint of knives and daggers. He quickly sounded the alarm, but it was already too late. This group had come to set the workshop on fire. Unless he could hold them back, they would cause great damage once inside.
The other two team members quickly came running after hearing the whistle. But after a few steps, they saw at least thirty people in the shadows. They didn't have the courage to fight off ten men each, and they immediately thought of running away.
The intruders seemed to have the same idea. The leader shouted to his men:
“Charge in and burn this place to the ground!”
“Ooh!”
The crowd let out strange cries, like a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey, with some even laughing cruelly. Just when several patrol members were beginning to despair, they suddenly heard a shout from behind:
“Go back and get help!”
"Lord Viserys!" They were relieved to see Viserys running over but anxious upon realizing he was alone.
“Hurry!”
Without needing further urging, the patrol members sprinted away as fast as they could. Under the crescent moon in the night sky, Viserys didn't have time to question why all three had fled. With the moonlight still relatively bright, he estimated there were about thirty attackers. Although their faces were hidden in the shadows, their figures were clearly visible.
Viserys's silver hair made him conspicuous, even more so now. One of the attackers suddenly said:
“Isn't this The Beggar King? What are you doing here? Aren't you Targaryens supposed to be proud dragons? Why are you acting like a watchdog?”
As soon as he finished speaking, the others burst into laughter.
Viserys raised the corner of his mouth and replied, “Your mother didn't want to let me go, so I had to stay in Braavos for a while.”
Verbal attacks centered on family were always Viserys' favorite. Though he couldn't see the man's face clearly, he sensed the man was taken aback.
“You fool! I'll see if your bones are as hard as your mouth! Attack!”
Several subordinates armed with short knives surrounded Viserys. The sharp blades glistened in the moonlight, looking even more menacing. They gradually approached, their eyes flashing with cruel intent.
This is a descendant of the Targaryens, a genuine noble. They would boast for years about killing such a person.
Viserys calmly drew his sword, silently assessing the strength of the men and looking for a position that would be advantageous to him.