After Xyso, Moro, and the courtesan left, the one-eared black cat, which had been dozing nearby, opened its green eyes wide.
The original mess of cups and plates in the reception room had already been cleaned up by the cook and the housekeeper.
The cook, who was working overtime, had no complaints; her culinary skills had improved significantly under Viserys' guidance, and she wished Viserys would teach her more tricks.
That way, she could transform into a cook for the Governor's mansion or a wealthy merchant's residence, which wasn't impossible.
Everyone was eager to improve; everyone wanted to progress.
A moment later, Rhaenys Targaryen, with black hair, black eyes, and olive skin, emerged from her room. She hadn't been asleep; she had been observing everything through the eyes of the black cat.
In terms of intellect and astuteness, she was more mature than Daenerys, not to mention having truly experienced national and familial hatred.
Daenerys was truly asleep; she was young and fell asleep quickly.
"Can they be trusted?" Rhaenys asked.
"Making money with me, eating and drinking together, of course they can be trusted. But to help us restore our kingdom, that's not very realistic," Viserys commented on his new friends.
The City Watch commander, the courtesan, and the exiled king now seemed to have a good relationship, but that was limited to everyone making money together and enjoying good food.
The courtesan could gain greater fame, the City Watch commander had his own benefits, and Viserys expanded his social circle.
This kind of superficial camaraderie was not enough to form the foundation for restoring the kingdom. Restoration required blood and fire, and different people.
However, with internal connections in Braavos, Viserys was confident he could earn even more money.
Money was the lubricant that could help Viserys raise an army.
"But right now, we need the help of these local people. I can't yet get into the highest circles," Viserys said. "Circles of slightly lesser power, like the City Watch commander and the courtesan, are easier to integrate into."
Xyso came from a second-tier noble family in Braavos, and the swordswoman was also a second-tier courtesan. Taking steady steps, Viserys was confident he could enter larger circles.
Rhaenys nodded, "That makes sense."
"Most of the capable people are now in Robert's court. To deal with the Baratheons and Lannisters, we have very few people left to rely on. But those failures and the disillusioned are all our hope," Viserys said.
"You mean those who have been exiled and criminals."
"Think bigger," Viserys said mysteriously.
Rhaenys didn't understand what he meant.
"Chaos is a ladder. It's unlikely that the vested interests in the Free Cities will cooperate with us. So we must unite those who have failed, those who are oppressed.
For example, the fallen Silver Tongue family of Tyrosh, the Rogare family, the Beggar Prince of Pentos, and even slaves." The flames of ambition burned fiercely in Viserys' eyes.
Viserys not only wanted to stir up Westeros but also to turn Essos into a powder keg.
A league of restorationists, the ghosts of those who had failed, still lingered. From Westeros to Pentos, Lys, and Tyrosh.
"Won't this be too crazy?" Rhaenys said. "If we really rally those failures, or even those slaves, we will offend the entire known world."
"I have no choice, Rhaenys. The Free Cities have plenty of sailors and merchants, but these people are not warriors. And sellswords only care about gold; most of them scatter at the first sign of trouble. To raise a large army from the ground up, besides liberated slaves, there are only the barbarians of the Dothraki Sea."
Viserys clenched his fingers. Since he was doing it, he might as well go all out.
This couldn't be considered him acting perversely; this was a dimension-reduction strike.
Viserys had already considered the plot: in the future, large-scale troop mobilization could only rely on slaves and horsemen. Sellswords were too slippery and difficult to control.
In the not-so-distant Dothraki Sea, those horsemen were a major source of soldiers for Essos.
Viserys didn't know why there were so many Dothraki horsemen there; perhaps it was because the overall latitude of Essos was low, which could support those horsemen. Anyway, the Creator said it was so, so it was.
Another path, liberating slaves to raise an army, had been validated by Daenerys in the future as a dangerous but viable path.
However, the slave trade was the core of the world's trade routes; no one was crazy enough to completely shatter this order.
Meereen, Astapor, and other cities in Slaver's Bay trained slaves; the Three Daughters and Volantis, Qarth, and others extensively used slaves and also sold them. And the Dothraki and pirates would sell the slaves they plundered.
This was a tight chain. The city-states and powers that relied on slaves for their livelihood were numerous and powerful, a true "million boatmen" whose livelihoods depended on it.
Even Braavos, which was most opposed to slavery, only thrashed the nearest Pentos and could not change the overall situation.
Everyone ate from the same pot; very few people would directly smash the pot. It's like playing chess: winning the game doesn't necessarily happen on the board; flipping the table can also win.
"You are either a genius or a madman, Viserys," Rhaenys said, looking at her uncle, her eyes filled with wonder. This was not the Viserys she knew, but a genius and an ambitious man.
Viserys' words were like a ray of sunshine piercing through the clouds; Rhaenys felt that the confusing path had suddenly become clear. Previously, Rhaenys had thought Viserys was just a handsome good-for-nothing, but also her kin.
Now, every single thing made Viserys seem profound and unfathomable.
"I am the True Dragon," Viserys said.
With Viserys by her side, everything was difficult at the beginning, but they had already taken the first step.
The next day, Moro arrived on time as expected, and the hundred gold coins, the payment from the swordswoman, would be brought by Moro in installments.
Viserys didn't have the luxury of two and a half years of practice; he wanted everything done quickly.
Moro also brought Viserys' practice tool, a wooden sword with a hilt, a guard, and a pommel decorating the hilt.
Moro threw the wooden sword to Viserys, "Boy, catch this sword, with one hand. By rights, I wouldn't teach an apprentice like you; you're too old, and your body certainly isn't as flexible as a child's. But the courtesan commanded, and Moro obeys. Even if you don't learn well, you still have to feed me."
Viserys caught the sword with one hand; it was filled with lead and actually had some weight.
Moro looked at Viserys. Regardless of whether his movements were standard, Viserys was qualified in terms of strength alone. Next, he would have to check his flexibility.
Viserys was also very grateful; if not for his added strength buff, swinging the wooden sword would certainly not have been so easy.
Viserys held the sword with one hand, maintaining the posture Moro requested.
"Yes, just like that. According to your stance, turn your body slightly; don't face me directly. Also, reduce the area an enemy can attack you, make the target smaller. In response, seize the enemy's weaknesses. Be flexible, elegant."
"Are you really a genius?" Moro rubbed his bald head.
Viserys was much better than he had imagined; both his strength and flexibility were very good.
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