Three Sentences That Made a Courtesan Spend a Thousand Gold Coins

At the Red Door Courtyard, Viserys was still practicing Water Dancing.

Syrio, lean and gaunt with a hooked nose, watched Viserys with obvious expectation.

Perhaps because he had spent too long among the upper circles, Syrio also wore the gray-brown clothing of a high official serving the Sealord.

Viserys wore a studded vest and kept his silver-white hair cropped short and neatly trimmed.

Though Syrio no longer held the title of Braavos's First Sword, he lacked neither fame nor honor.

Many assassins were willing to spend vast sums to study under him, but Syrio was strict and rarely encountered apprentices who might comprehend the Way of Insight.

"I heard from Moro that you refined your Water Dancing within a few months. At first, I thought he was boasting." Syrio tossed Viserys a wooden sword. "But after seeing your duel at the Moon Pool, you truly do possess flashes of genius. Your courage and technique against Bero were both exceptional."

"But do not grow proud. My standards are stricter for geniuses."

Viserys picked up the wooden sword. It had a hilt, a guard, and a pommel decorating the grip.

This wooden sword was heavier than the ones he had used before, because it had more lead poured into it.

"This is not a two-handed greatsword, but a one-handed sword," Syrio said. "It is heavier than those used by ordinary apprentices, but since you have talent, you must make use of it. Your strength and endurance are equally impressive. That is also why you defeated Bero."

Viserys nodded and turned sideways toward his opponent.

Ordinary Water Dancers often emphasized speed at the expense of strength and toughness, but Viserys had put points into every stat.

Syrio was very pleased by this. As a Water Dancing instructor, Syrio was dedicated and held nothing back.

The Arya Syrio would meet in the future was also a ruthless, gifted child who dared kill at ten years old, but Viserys had gotten to Syrio first.

"Switch to your left hand," Syrio told Viserys. "The left is best. If you reverse your hands, your enemy will find it very unfamiliar. Your stance is good. Do not face your enemy directly; turn your body slightly to reduce your target area."

Viserys took up the sword. Moving sideways really did resemble the posture used in fencing matches.

"Very good. You are thin as a spear, which makes you a smaller target. And you are tall, so you have a longer reach and more striking angles." Syrio stared at Viserys's hand. "Your fundamentals are solid. Moro may be an idiot, but with good fundamentals, you get twice the result with half the effort."

So Viserys began charging at Syrio, just as Syrio had instructed.

Do not use too much force with the sword, but be flexible and elegant.

"The sword must become one with your hand," bald Syrio told Viserys. "Would your hand fall off? Of course not."

Viserys continued attacking like flowing water, elegant, dazzling, and dangerous.

"Well done. Your training mainly consists of trying to attack me," Syrio said. "Your posture is extremely standard. We use rapiers, not the scimitars or war hammers of barbarians. So be elegant. Be dangerous."

Syrio also began performing dazzling Water Dancing, while Viserys thrust at him with all his strength.

It was not easy. Syrio had many feints, and he was extremely fast. Hitting him took skill.

Viserys tried for several hours, until every inch of his muscles ached.

Viserys felt it was worth it. Syrio's swordsmanship stood at the pinnacle among Braavosi Water Dancers.

It would be difficult for him to improve by comparing himself with ordinary people.

"You did very well, boy," Syrio said. "Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed someone who had never learned Water Dancing before could advance so quickly."

"I will pursue the Way of Insight," Viserys said. Talent was good, but having cheats was even more important.

"Correct. Insight is the highest realm of a Water Dancer. What we learn is not Westeros's Iron Dance or Knight's Dance, swinging and hacking away. No. This is the dance of killers, Water Dancing: swift in action and unexpected in attack. People are made of water. You have dueled before. When you stab a human body, the water flows out, and the person dies."

Viserys felt that the Water Dancers' Insight was somewhat aimed at the Faceless Men, whose greatest skill was transformation and disguise.

Thus, the Faceless Men pursued becoming nobodies, while the Sealord demanded that his First Sword attain Insight.

Water Dancers and the Faceless Men had a relationship somewhat like spears and shields.

Perhaps the Sealord did not completely trust the Faceless Men either. He used them, feared them, and kept his distance.

"Then what do you do when you encounter an armored knight?" Viserys asked.

"Knights always have moments when they let their guard down, don't they?" Syrio replied.

Viserys was speechless. It seemed Syrio did not have much experience fighting armored knights either.

When dueling in Westeros, how could one not wear a helmet?

This was only the first day of training. There was still an entire set of lessons to come.

"This is Nightingale, Viserys." The Female Swordswoman introduced a new visitor to Viserys.

Today, not only had the Female Swordswoman arrived, she had also brought another courtesan.

Nightingale was one of Braavos's Seven Courtesans, renowned for her beautiful voice.

Viserys was somewhat surprised. He had thought the Female Swordswoman and Nightingale now overlapped somewhat in their fields, so their meeting should have been at least a little awkward.

Yet from the way things looked now, Nightingale and the Female Swordswoman chatted and laughed together. The Female Swordswoman had likely offered a gesture of goodwill, and they had instead shown one another courtesy.

Of course, the Female Swordswoman also understood that Viserys would surely cooperate with first-rate courtesans. That was not something she could stop.

Every one of these first-rate courtesans was a shrewd operator.

Though the Female Swordswoman was reserved, she probably could not afford to provoke the forces behind Nightingale.

"Your Majesty Viserys." Nightingale gave Viserys a bow.

Viserys looked at Nightingale. The courtesan wore a yellow gauze dress, while her silver shoes were inlaid with pearls. She had even brought speed boots.

Nightingale was beautiful and captivating, probably only sixteen or seventeen years old.

Nightingale looked somewhat Lyseni, with golden hair, blue eyes, fair skin, affectionate eyes, and a sweet, enchanting voice.

"You are indeed an honored guest," Viserys said.

He was quite natural when these courtesans came calling.

Viserys only needed money and materials such as Dragonbone.

"Nightingales are not clever birds. Otherwise, how could they have failed to notice the true dragon of the Secret City?"

Nightingale also studied this last true dragon. Silver hair, purple eyes, handsome and fit, like a dangerous spear.

Nightingale had heard that Viserys had gained some fame as a Water Dancing apprentice, and he carried an air of danger.

He was extraordinarily talented, yet he also possessed House Targaryen's madness for dragons.

What a pity. Nightingale considered it. Viserys's plans were far too grand.

Three people wanting to return and restore their kingdom—it was hard to say whether they were madmen or great figures.

"Your words have made my heart blossom," Viserys said with a smile. "But I am not a true dragon now. I am a traveler of the Secret City."

"You truly are a humorous man. Ordinary travelers do not stir up storms in Braavos. The whole city is searching for the Silver Traveler." Since Nightingale had come here, she apparently intended to barter as well.

"A small gift, unworthy of your notice." Nightingale waved her hand.

Her guard brought forward a box. When it was opened, it revealed various Dragonbone items.

Most were jet-black, glossy Dragonbone ornaments, though there were also a few daggers with Dragonbone handles.

Viserys picked up a Dragonbone hairpin. Power—the scent of power.

It seemed Nightingale had keen judgment, and her ability to mobilize resources far exceeded the Female Swordswoman's. That was the value of one of the Seven Courtesans.

Perhaps Viserys could also have Syrio obtain some, since Syrio had even broader connections.

"You want a song?" Viserys looked at Nightingale.

A meal was too shallow. Nightingale could not possibly sleep with him, so she must be after something artistic.

"Let us be friends. These are merely my gifts," Nightingale said. "They are not a deposit."

As the singer among the Seven Courtesans, Nightingale naturally needed a genius artist like Viserys. But she understood even better the value of offering goodwill and returning favors.

"Straightforward. Let's speak plainly. I like beautiful girls like you, especially one so generous. The Female Swordswoman is my friend, so you are my friend too. I can give you this favor." Viserys took out a page of lyrics.

Nightingale was also rather shocked. Could this man truly be a god-tier creator?

She had heard that Viserys had recently become obsessed with the path of Water Dancing, yet his creative ability had not diminished in the slightest.

"In my arms, in your eyes

There, the spring breeze is intoxicating; there, the green grass is lush

Moonlight scatters love across the lake"

"This song can be called By the Great Lagoon," Viserys added.

He had originally considered calling it By God's Eye, but after thinking about it, it was far too inauspicious and would reveal his identity, so he dropped the idea.

"Five hundred."

"No, one thousand gold coins." Nightingale put away the letter, then named an extremely expensive price.

Nightingale truly was wealthy. Her offer was five times that of the Female Swordswoman.

That amount is practically the Kingslayer's ransom. An enormous sum, Viserys thought.

"My investors take a larger share, so I can give you a larger deposit while taking a smaller cut afterward," Nightingale said apologetically.

"I understand." Viserys shrugged.

"A group of people may wish to meet you. I wonder whether you would be interested," Nightingale said.

"Who?" Viserys was curious.

"Moonsinger priests."

Viserys immediately understood. He knew who stood behind Nightingale.

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