Encountering the Golden Company (Please Keep Reading)

Braavos, Great Fountain, Moon Pool.

The Moon Pool lay northeast of Braavos, south of the Sealord's Palace and before the Iron Bank headquarters. The Sweetwater Canal eventually flowed into the Moon Pool.

The area around the Moon Pool and the Sealord's Palace was effectively Braavos's district for the highborn, like the houses near the Red Keep in King's Landing or the Black Wall in Volantis.

In this prime location where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, besides the Moon Pool where people watched duels, there were also plenty of fine taverns, brothels, and inns. Their prices were steep. Cheap inns were not here; one had to look near the Old Dock.

There were rather more Braavosi here and fewer outsiders.

That was because only Braavosi were permitted to use Purple Harbor, from Drowned Town to the Sealord's Palace. Ships from the other Free Trade Cities and around the world could only dock at Ragman's Harbor.

The killing at the Moon Pool was merely an interlude. The assassins had long grown accustomed to such things.

Besides the earlier bloodshed, there might be further duels later.

"Clams, fresh clams." The fishmonger's daughter sold clams in the alleys near the Moon Pool every day, or peddled them at the temples on the Isle of the Gods.

Viserys and Moro bought some clams and chatted as they ate.

Reading novels every day was effortless and worry-free.

"When you meet Water Dancers, you can't back down," Moro shared from experience. "You have to be fiercer and stronger than them. Otherwise, they'll challenge you to a duel, or demand your boots, then your coat, sword belt, and weapons. You'll flee the Moon Pool stark naked."

Viserys swallowed a warm clam tinged with sea salt. It would have been even better with some lemon, but lemons were exorbitantly expensive these days. "Braavos truly has an abundance of seafood. I feel like I'm about to turn into a salted fish."

Moro studied Viserys. "It seems you are very different from the true dragons of legend. From what I heard, your family is supposed to be immensely proud—the arrogant House Targaryen."

"Of course I'm a true dragon, but even true dragons have their drowsy moments." Viserys neither confirmed nor denied it. This was not the time to show off. Even if he put on airs as a true dragon, no one would bow and scrape to him.

"Now you're truly famous. The entire city is calling out that name—the Silver Traveler." The bald, bearded Moro said to Viserys.

"Let them guess." Viserys smiled.

"But being too famous brings trouble as well. It seems you anticipated that," Moro reminded him.

"For example?"

"Courtesans have an entire chain behind them, and those people have investors backing them..." Moro said softly.

"Every courtesan tries to rival the Black Pearl, but they do not possess that kind of ability. Still, important figures work hard to pull all kinds of resources for them. Some of those important figures are retired courtesans, while others are wealthy merchants and magistrates."

It was easy to understand. It was like a form of medieval venture capital: high risk, high returns.

Courtesans were like Braavos's celebrities and brokers. Investors cultivated them in hopes that they would shine brilliantly, then bring lavish returns to their backers.

Every famous courtesan supported a large number of people. Countless livelihoods depended on them.

Courtesans needed pleasure barges, boatmen, reception halls, villas, and guards. All of that cost a fortune, not to mention the investors' share.

But that also showed just how profitable courtesans were. It was an industry with staggering profits.

"You mean other courtesans might take notice of me?"

"That is inevitable. A genius singer has considerable value as a partner. But it is not always a good thing. Some people may come looking for trouble. For example, your peers. Peers are enemies." Moro spoke meaningfully.

People feared fame as pigs feared growing fat. It had always been so.

Once Viserys's alias, the Silver Traveler, became famous, he could earn quite a bit of money. If that meant taking on some risk, he could accept it.

Viserys needed to make money and raise funds in Braavos.

"Then wouldn't the struggles between courtesans be especially brutal?" Viserys asked.

Moro shook his head. "There are struggles, but with the Sealord around, there are still limits to them. Then again, trouble is everywhere."

Viserys understood the implication. There was conflict, but overall it remained under the Sealord's control.

The top courtesans were backed by major figures such as the Sealord, magistrates, and great families. This market truly needed rules.

After the two left the Moon Pool, they passed several-story luxury inns. Only wealthy people stayed there.

Viserys spotted several plank tables in a shaded area outside one inn. Different banners stood beside each table, fluttering in the wind.

Since it was late at night, the mercenaries recruiting and those being interviewed had all gone back to rest.

"Those are mercenary company banners?" Viserys recognized them immediately.

"Yes," Moro replied.

A swallowtail banner of blue and white stripes fluttered in the wind. It represented the Windblown.

Besides the Windblown, there was another banner painted with a blood-red hunting cat, representing the Company of the Cat.

And there was, of course, a banner bearing a golden skull, tied alongside the others to a spear.

That golden skull banner naturally represented the Golden Company.

The Golden Company had ten thousand men, the Windblown had two thousand, and the Company of the Cat had three thousand. By scale, they were all large mercenary companies, with the Golden Company standing foremost among them.

Though the Golden Company was a company of defeated exiles, drifting without roots, it had always maintained excellent discipline, comparable to a regular army.

An army of ten thousand regular soldiers was not to be underestimated even in Westeros.

"These three are the largest mercenary companies today, and they are not short of money, so they stay here. They also maintain recruiting points in Braavos and draw in a small number of people every year," Moro explained. "But their headquarters are all in the Disputed Lands, where war never ends."

After the Three Daughters' Alliance dissolved, the Disputed Lands had remained in chaos and division. Combined with another powder keg, the Stepstones, the Eastern Continent supported a great many mercenaries.

"Even from the distant Sunset Lands, I had heard the Golden Company's name," Viserys said.

House Targaryen and the Golden Company were far too familiar with one another. This mercenary company, founded by Bittersteel, had originally been prepared to fight its way back into Westeros.

"The Braavosi know them well too. Mercenaries entice swordsmen who lack money. You know how young people are always short of coin. They need money, they need women. Many assassins who fall for it are taken away to start swinging longswords and spears, heading to the battlefield with the Beggar Prince."

Viserys looked at the Golden Company's banner. When enemies met, their eyes burned with hatred.

Viserys remembered the original plot. During his exile, he had borrowed money to host a feast for a group of Golden Company commanders, hoping they would help him reclaim his throne.

Unfortunately, those bastards ate the food, listened to his plea, then mocked Viserys.

It hurt. It hurt far too much.

Seeing the Golden Company's banner again, Viserys had no extra feelings left.

An army of ten thousand men would not even glance at the few gold coins in his pocket. Besides, the Golden Company had already made a secret agreement with Illyrio and Griffin. Why would it move for him?

Young Aegon's side had a powerful lineup of magistrates, spies, and the exiled Griffin. They were far stronger than Viserys's beggar lineup.

Unless... a thought shifted in Viserys's mind.

Unless Viserys got rid of Young Aegon. Then he would become the only choice.

If Young Aegon was gone, the Golden Company could only choose the true dragon. But the chances of carrying out such a scheme were far too low. He should focus on his own affairs first.

"Let's go," Viserys said to Moro.

He had to abandon his previous impatience. Taking things one step at a time was the surest path. Contacting the Golden Company now would only invite humiliation.

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