While secretly transporting the army into Tyrosh, Strickland had shown the sellswords of the Golden Company portraits of each mber of the Dragon Party. There was a substantial reward for bringing back their heads, even if they were dead. As for Viserys and Dany, their capture was of the highest priority.
“Damn, if I hadn’t been joking around with Strickland at the ti, I’d have gone with him,” grumbled a red-haired sergeant as he watched the rcenaries set up the long ladders. His na was Tristan Rivers, an exiled bastard from the Riverlands.
“Didn’t the guy keeping the ledger say that Viserys and Daenerys might already be dead?” replied a younger rcenary nad John Mudd, also a Westerosi.
In the Golden Company, the majority of middle and senior officers hailed from Westeros. This was largely because, for many criminals and bastards exiled from Westeros, the Golden Company was the first choice. Bittersteel, the company’s founder, was a fellow Westerosi, and this connection gave them a sense of belonging.
After Viserys’s recent victory over the Dothraki, many had considered joining his forces, viewing it as a ticket back to Westeros. With such strength behind him, Viserys was a strong contender for the Iron Throne. But now, that dream seed shattered. They had been involved in setting the wildfire—hundreds of pounds of it. No one could have survived that explosion. All they wanted now was to finish the job, though the hope of returning ho seed more distant than ever.
“Strange... why are there so many guards in the palace?” John suddenly noticed sothing was off. Kambron had told them there were fewer than 500 Unsullied in the palace.
With the throne hall still burning, most troops should have been fighting the fire or on patrol, leaving few to man the walls. Yet, spears and arrows rained down on them in great numbers—far more than a few hundred soldiers could muster. It would take thousands.
Suddenly, the rcenaries of the Golden Company felt a tremor under their feet. Tristan, who was taller, looked into the distance and saw a cavalry unit materialize without warning.
“Damn it! We’ve been ambushed!” he shouted.
The sudden appearance of the cavalry completely cut off any escape route for Kambron and his allies.
“Drop your weapons!”
“Surrender, and you will not be killed!” Caggo, leading the cavalry, ordered as they surrounded the rcenaries.
Kambron was forced back by the sharp points of spears, stumbling into a cart. His hand brushed against the wheel, feeling sothing cold and wet—blood, left by the coachman who had run over a pedestrian.
The soldiers and officers of the Golden Company were quickly taken into custody. Kambron, Tregar, and the other nobles suspected of plotting against the throne, along with Strickland, were dragged to the ruins of the throne hall. There, they found the mbers of the Dragon Party and the nobles from the Nine Free Cities, all waiting. The truth had already been revealed, and the disgust on their faces was unmistakable.
Realizing they were now prisoners, Tregar, who had originally devised the plan, began to panic, his face pale with fear.
“Prince Viserys! This was all Kambron’s doing, not mine! I had no idea what he planned with the wildfire!” Tregar Ormollen pleaded desperately, dropping to his knees despite not even seeing Viserys's face.
As he scanned the room and saw that nearly all the nobles were unhard, a sinking realization hit him—he had been outmaneuvered by Viserys, led into a trap step by step.
Harrumph-harrumph—
Suddenly, the three n heard strange cries, unlike anything they could recognize.
“Tregar Ormollen, for attempting to assassinate the heir to the Iron Throne, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the First n, Regent of Tyrosh, Viserys Targaryen, you are sentenced to death by law,” Connington intoned solemnly.
“Princess! No! I’ll give up all my possessions, I’ll—”
“Dracarys!” Dany’s voice cut him off, cold and unyielding. The seven young dragons behind her opened their mouths, spewing thin streams of yellow fla, no thicker than a pinky. The fire wasn’t intense, but it was enough to ignite Tregar’s luxurious silk clothing.
“Aaaah!” Tregar’s screams filled the hall as the flas engulfed him, shattering the resolve of Strickland and Cassius.
“Cassius, for hiring the Faceless n to assassinate Prince Viserys Targaryen, you are sentenced to death,” Connington continued.
“Dracarys!” Dany repeated, and the seven young dragons again unleashed their fiery serpents, wrapping Cassius in flas.
“Strickland, leader of the Golden Company, for colluding with Kambron and Cassius to attack the palace, you are sentenced to death.”
“No! Princess! I’ll surrender the Golden Company, just don’t—” Strickland’s voice trembled with fear.
“You’re the one who called my brother the Beggar King, aren’t you?” Dany’s voice was icy, the mory of those difficult days still raw. Even after leaving Pentos, the title “Beggar King” had haunted Viserys, and Dany could only imagine what they had called her—"Beggar Princess"?
“Strip him naked and let everyone watch him beg,” Dany ordered, her tone unforgiving. She wanted vengeance for Viserys.
As Strickland’s screams echoed in the hall, Kambron’s face twisted into a mask of despair and madness. Connington began to speak, but Kambron interrupted him.
“Where is Viserys?” Kambron demanded, scanning the room frantically. “He’s dead, isn’t he? Hahahaha! I killed a Dragonlord! A real Dragonlord!”
Kambron’s laughter was wild, tears streaming from his eyes.
“Dracarys!” a voice rang out—this ti, it wasn’t Dany’s. Seven flas erupted, turning Kambron into a living torch. But unlike the others, Kambron didn’t thrash or scream. Instead, he stared at the source of the voice, as if he had seen a ghost.
The others followed his gaze and froze in shock. Erging from the shadows behind Dany was a figure—a humanoid shape, blackened and bald, like sothing out of a nightmare. At first glance, it resembled a suspect in a cri scene.
“This... how... Nissa Nissa doesn’t have to die?” Kambron murmured, his voice trailing off in disbelief as the flas consud him.
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