A night for killing

It was a naked threat, delivered with the arrogance and certainty of a local thug on his own turf.

The alley fell deathly silent.

Only the faint bustle of the distant harbor and the uneven, heavy breathing nearby broke the silence.

Without a word, Aegon slowly turned to look at the mercenaries behind him.

Pinned to the ground, Luke heard Bali's words and saw Aegon turn away. The little flame of hope that had just kindled in his eyes flickered violently, like a candle in the wind, then went out.

He lowered his head in resignation and stopped struggling, leaving only a faint tremble in his body.

Bali's thick lips curled in contempt, and mocking sounds rose from the thugs behind him.

Carl and the mercenaries behind her tightened their grips on their weapons, their gazes fixed on Aegon.

They were waiting, and watching.

How would this "Your Highness," who had just declared that he would lead them to glory, choose when threatened by a local gang boss? Would he weigh the risks and back down for now, or...

Aegon glanced at the mercenaries' varied expressions.

Weigh the risks? Calculate the gains and losses? Assess the cost of clashing with a harbor thug?

No.

Those concerns belonged to the mercenary Lott Hayne, who had scraped by, forever hesitating and looking over his shoulder.

The man standing here now was Aegon Targaryen.

A... leader who needed to prove to his followers that he was worthy of their lives and loyalty.

Some things allowed no retreat.

Some lines had to be drawn.

A trace of icy killing intent flashed through his violet eyes.

Just as everyone, Bali included, thought he was struggling to weigh his options, perhaps even preparing to back down-

Aegon whipped around!

He moved like lightning, his silver hair tracing a cold arc through the dim light.

The ordinary longsword at his waist suddenly left its sheath as he turned!

Shing!

The clear ring of steel echoed through the narrow alley, drowning out every other sound.

The sword's tip rose, drawing a cold gleam through the air, then settled, unwavering, pointed straight at the fat, swaggering Iron Jaw Gang leader several yards away-Bali.

Aegon's face was hard as stone, his violet eyes filled with unquestionable resolve.

His voice was not loud, but every word rang clear and firm, carrying the force of a proclamation through all of Loach Lane.

"Now, you'll follow my rules."

"Let him go. Hand over the girl you took and the IOU. Immediately!"

"Otherwise-"

His wrist gave a slight tremor, but the sword's tip remained perfectly still, fixed on Bali's throat.

"None of you will leave this alley today."

The instant those words fell, it was as though a fuse had been lit.

After a brief, deathly silence-

"Raaagh!!!"

Behind Aegon, the previously silent mercenaries, Carl among them, erupted in a roar they had held back far too long!

Their eyes blazed with feverish hunger for battle and the anger of men who had been insulted!

The frustration of years spent struggling at the bottom, the terror of life and death they had just endured in Valyria, the exhilaration of surviving, and the shock and excitement that their boss had truly drawn his sword for them.

All those emotions mingled and became a primal roar!

"Fuck them up!"

"Didn't you hear him? Let him go!"

"Iron Jaw bastards! Come on, then!"

More footsteps sounded from the mouth of the alley.

The mercenary sent earlier to gather the others came pouring in with more than twenty comrades who had been resting nearby and hurried over the moment they heard!

Their clothes were a little disheveled, and some still held half-eaten bread or wineskins, but every face bore the ferocity and indifference of men freshly returned from hell.

Their eyes were sharp as knives as they spread out behind Aegon without being told, sealing off the alley's mouth.

Weapons slid from their sheaths, their edges gleaming coldly.

In just a few breaths, the situation reversed!

The Iron Jaw Gang, who had swaggered with the advantage of numbers, now found themselves hemmed in at both ends of narrow Loach Lane.

The "foreign mercenaries" they had thought they could push around exuded the killing intent of men who had clawed through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Mingled with their shared fury at a comrade's mistreatment, it struck every Iron Jaw thug's heart like a palpable tide of ice.

The fat on Bali's face shook violently, his little eyes filled with shock, anger, and a barely perceptible trace of panic.

He had never imagined that his opponent would actually dare draw a sword, much less that this ragged-looking band of mercenaries possessed such unity and presence!

Bali's face turned sickly pale in the dim light. The thugs behind him also felt that almost tangible killing intent, and cold sweat seeped from the hands gripping their weapons.

Just as the standoff was about to erupt into bloodshed-

"Wait! Everyone, wait! Gentlemen, we can talk this out!" A slightly hoarse voice suddenly cut in, breaking the taut confrontation.

Scorpion-Tail Kulker strolled out of the shadows at the far end of the alley with several of his men.

The scorpion tattoo on his bald head looked especially sinister in the dim light, but his face wore a complicated smile somewhere between diplomacy and warning as his gaze swept over the two sides.

"Now, now, Boss Bali, and our... silver-haired friend here, why take things this far?" Khurk spoke with the raspy accent peculiar to the harbor district.

He first waved to Bali, signaling him to calm down, then turned his eyes toward Aegon, his gaze carrying a hint of appraisal and a subtle warning.

He stepped between the two men, neatly breaking their locked gazes, then turned his head toward Bali and lowered his voice in a tone of familiar complaint. "Bali, my good brother, look at this! Over some nobody who owes you money, are you really going to pit your dozens of crack men against these desperadoes who just crawled out of a pile of corpses? Is it worth it?"

"Take my advice. The Tiger-Robe Army's patrol will be changing shifts in this area soon. If this gets out of hand, it won't look good for the triarch either, will it?"

The flesh on Bali's face twitched. Khurk's words had struck a sore spot.

A bloody fight with mercenaries who had nothing to lose would cost him dearly even if he won, never mind drawing the authorities' attention.

Then Kulker turned to Aegon, his tone growing gentler, though his words still carried weight. "My friend, I can tell you're a man destined for great things. But even a powerful outsider should tread carefully on another man's turf."

"Boss Bali has operated in this harbor for years. His connections run deep."

"You've only just arrived. You're looking for money and a way forward, nothing more. Why start a feud to the death the moment you step ashore? Do me, Kulker, a favor. Both sides take a step back, and there's room enough for everyone. What do you say?" As he spoke, his fingers absently rubbed a seemingly ordinary jeweled ring at his waist.

Aegon listened without expression. The chill in his violet eyes did not fade at these attempts at persuasion.

Bali snorted heavily, seizing the offered way out and blustering to cover his fear. "Fine! I'll do Boss Kulker this favor today! Boy, you and your men got lucky!"

He waved a hand and shouted to his men, "Let that pauper go!"

Released, Luke stumbled toward Aegon, where the mercenaries caught him.

Bali glared viciously at Aegon, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Boy, I'll remember you! In Volantis, even a dragon has to keep its head down! We'll... see about this!"

With that, he hurried out of the alley with his men, cursing as they went, a hint of panic in their retreat.

Only then did Kulker turn to face Aegon. His businessman's smile returned, but his eyes were sharp. "Young man, Bali likes to boast, but his sister is a certain triarch's mistress, after all. That connection counts for something."

"You still need to stay here and take on supplies. There's no need to burn every bridge." His words sounded like advice, but they also made the stakes clear.

Aegon drew his gaze back from the alley's mouth and settled it on Kulker. "I acknowledge the favor, Boss Kulker," he said calmly, his voice betraying neither pleasure nor anger.

Khurk smiled and was about to offer a few more words to ease the tension, but his smile stiffened slightly when he met Aegon's violet eyes.

There was no gratitude there, no compromise, only a bottomless, icy chill. The earlier killing intent had not vanished; it had been forcibly suppressed, like a beast that had momentarily sheathed its claws.

Khurk's heart lurched as he realized that his intervention might merely have delayed the storm rather than quelled it.

Aegon paid Kulker no further attention and turned toward the still-shaken Luke.

Luke struggled to kneel and plead. "Your Highness! My sister..."

Aegon raised a hand, stopping him.

"There's no need to say more." His voice carried an unquestionable resolve.

He glanced at the darkened sky. The harbor lights flickered in the distance, illuminating his stern profile.

He spoke quietly to Carl, his voice low but clearly audible. "Take two sharp, quick-footed comrades and follow them."

"Find out exactly where their lair is, how many men they have, and where the entrances and exits are. Be back before it's completely dark."

A keen light flashed in Carl's eyes. She immediately accepted the order, picked two men, and slipped silently into the night.

Then Aegon turned to the mercenaries behind him, silent but restless, their eyes burning with fire and excitement.

His gaze passed over every face, then he raised his voice, each word striking beneath the silent night sky like a cold iron hammer.

"All of you, head back."

"Put on the armor we brought back. Take the blades that suit you best, and check your bows and crossbows."

He paused, the faintest cold curve touching the corner of his mouth.

"Tonight..."

"Is a night for killing."

There were no cheers when the order came, only a subdued, unified sound of weapons being drawn or gripped tighter.

Bloodlust flared in the mercenaries' eyes. They swiftly dispersed without a word, like a wolf pack obeying its leader, heading for the docks to prepare.

Khurk stood where he was, watching Aegon's back as he calmly issued commands, then glanced at the murderous mercenaries moving swiftly into action. Unconsciously, he rubbed his bald head.

He understood that somewhere in Volantis tonight, blood was bound to flow in rivers.

This silver-haired, violet-eyed young man was no ordinary figure.

Still, that was not necessarily bad for him. Perhaps he could seize the chance to expand his territory?

He shook his head and quietly withdrew into the shadows with his men.