The Moonsinger Saintess and Recklessly Feeding Dragonbone

Drawing close to the courtesan, Viserys Targaryen carefully looked Nightingale over, though not for her looks.

Beyond her beauty, Nightingale carried an added aura of mystery.

Viserys could not help admiring how these top courtesans were all so extraordinarily well-connected, with such powerful backing.

Black Pearl and Lady of Darkness had ties to the House of Black and White, while Nightingale had ties to the Moonsinger Temple.

Beside every doorway of the Moonsinger Temple stood a pair of tall marble maidens supporting crescent-shaped lintels.

Perhaps it was not only Nightingale. The other courtesan, Moonshadow, might also have ties to the Moonsingers.

A leading courtesan like Black Pearl was most likely not merely working with them; she probably had connections at every level.

"The Moonsinger Temple? Miss Nightingale, you are not joking with me?" Viserys asked.

Viserys had not expected Nightingale's great patron to be the Moonsinger Temple.

"Braavosi never joke about dragons or Moonsingers. Without the Moonsingers, there would be no such city." Nightingale smiled. Her red lips possessed an utterly seductive charm, while her face held both allure and innocence.

Her teeth were white and lustrous, and even her breath was richly fragrant.

Beauty was merely the foundation for a courtesan. Beyond that, there were languages, customs, literature, history, art, dancing, singing, swordsmanship, wine tasting, and more.

The effort and money needed to cultivate a courtesan were likewise enormous.

These courtesans are not so easy to bed. Viserys thought. They had all been raised up by powerful patrons and represented major forces.

Female Swordswoman nodded as well. Compared with Nightingale, the difference between first-rate and second-rate became apparent.

That beautiful and gentle courtesan had actually connected Viserys with the Moonsingers.

The Moonsingers held an extraordinary position in Braavos. It could be said that they had made the greatest contribution to the city's founding.

At the very beginning, when a slave ship from Sothoryos mutinied, a group of Jogos Nhai slave women from the Jogos Nhai Plains took control of the slaver and sailed north instead.

The Moonsingers had prophesied that there would be a place that could serve as a refuge for fugitives: behind pine-covered hills and sea rocks lay a lagoon shrouded in mist all year round, concealing the refugees from the eyes of the Dragonlords flying overhead.

Because the Moonsingers' prophecy came true, Braavos was founded. The Moonsinger Temple was the largest temple on the Isle of the Gods.

Nightingale looked at Viserys. He was tall and handsome, carrying an air of adventure and taboo. His violet eyes shone with the confident warning that strangers should stay away.

The last true dragon was magnificent and dangerous, vigorous and full of life—a multifaceted man of art, food, and Water Dancing.

"You truly are your brother's brother," Nightingale said. "Just as handsome, and just as extraordinarily talented."

"You knew my brother?"

"No." Nightingale shook her head. "I merely heard stories of the Silver Prince. He often took his harp to the ruins of Summerhall, and the songs he sang upon returning were so beautiful that they brought women to tears."

"He was a failure. The shadow of Summerhall had always haunted him," Viserys said calmly.

War was not merely just or unjust; there was also victory and defeat.

Nightingale looked at Viserys, somewhat surprised by his words. Still, for a prince who had lost his kingdom, criticism and anger were only natural.

If Rhaegar had not destroyed the dynasty, Viserys would still have been living a life of extravagance and indulgence.

"Enough. Why do the Moonsingers want to contact me?" Viserys asked curiously. "If I remember correctly, they hate the Dragonlords to the bone."

"Times have changed. There are no dragons left in this world, nor is there a Valyrian Freehold." Nightingale smiled. Her voice truly held a sweet sincerity that could intoxicate anyone. "The Moonsinger priests naturally mean to establish friendly relations."

"They will invite you to compose a sincere song. That is the highest honor." Nightingale looked at Viserys. "Many singers dream day and night of writing a song for the Moonsinger Temple."

So they wanted a hymn. Every temple and church had many pleasant songs, with priests leading believers in song. It was, at least, within his professional field.

A hymn was essentially a themed composition. Its general purpose was to heighten the religious atmosphere; as long as it touched upon that, it would do. Something like a Puritan chant.

Viserys still had fragments of hymns to the Seven in his memory. They were generally praises of the Seven, perhaps songs Queen Rhaella had sung to him as a child.

"Gentle Mother, fountain of mercy, bless Your sons through bitter battle. Stop the stray arrows, ward off blades, and let them see a brighter tomorrow.

"Gentle Mother, hope of women, help Your daughters escape suffering. Calm anger, tame madness, and teach us to treat one another with tolerance."

"As I recall, the Moonsingers do not worship any gods," Viserys asked.

"The Moonsingers do not worship gods, but they praise the moon. Anything related to the moon will do..."

Viserys: "..."

The Moonsingers' customs could sit at the same table as those of the Lord of Light: moon and light.

Still, Braavos had managed to cram so many religions together without exploding into religious slaughter. That was indeed open-minded and impressive.

"Such empty fame has nothing to do with me," Viserys said coldly. "I want something tangible: money, dragon eggs, dragonbone, Valyrian steel, and other materials. High-quality ingredients like sea snails would work too."

"You truly are greedy. Dragon eggs are priceless; even the Moonsinger Temple may not be able to produce one. The rest, though, may be possible..." Nightingale smiled at the practical Viserys. "Since the Moonsingers have the largest temple, there is naturally no need to worry about their wealth. The amount will satisfy you."

"Braavos truly is a practical city. It turns people into slaves of money," Female Swordswoman said. The two sides reached a preliminary agreement.

"You may write a hymn for the Moonsingers. The Moonsingers do not worship any particular god; they merely praise the moon," Nightingale said. "With my judgment, those priests will surely regard it as a masterpiece."

"It would not hurt to give it a try," Viserys replied.

Everything is negotiable, as long as they pay, Viserys thought.

"This is the symbol and invitation of the Moonsinger Temple. You may visit the Moonsinger Temple at any time, and the priests will receive you." Nightingale handed Viserys a coin bearing the image of a maiden raising a crescent moon. It was likely the image of a Moonsinger.

Viserys accepted the coin. Did all these Braavosi like using coins as tokens?

Still, Viserys was not in the mood to go just yet. What if someone set him up?

"That hymn you mentioned—can you sing me a bit of it?" Viserys asked Nightingale. Nightingale clearly had deep ties to the Moonsingers, probably occupying a position similar to that of a saintess.

"It would be my honor." Nightingale sang a song softly, her voice graceful and moving.

Viserys listened. It was roughly a song praising the moon, asking it to protect mortals and such.

Yet the melody and calls of a hymn truly gave him a feeling of spiritual cleansing. It was not entirely psychological.

While listening, Viserys also discovered that his spirit attribute was slowly but genuinely increasing.

It seemed listening to such hymns had this effect as well.

"If possible, I truly hope I can often hear your singing, Miss Nightingale."

"Every Braavosi says that," Female Swordswoman said with a smile.

"Others do not understand art, but for you, I would gladly sing often." Nightingale smiled, thinking she had moved Viserys.

"No need for anything else. You can sing this hymn for me often."

Viserys pointed out, and the atmosphere instantly became incredibly awkward. Nightingale's smile gradually froze.

Could this Viserys truly have a heart of stone?

After seeing off the courtesan, Viserys began feeding himself dragonbone.

Compared to last time, his capacity had increased somewhat, but it was still limited to two pieces. The stacked attributes also did not surge as much as they had the first time, showing diminishing returns.

Even so, Viserys was deeply moved. After all, there was still positive feedback.

It was as though he had opened several mines. If he still could not grind himself into a superhuman warrior, that would make no sense.

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