"This game is way too realistic!"
In the crowd, a new player was marveling at the graphics when his nose suddenly twitched. Where is that weird smell coming from?
He turned around. Good lord. There was a pale, beardless fellow posing and preening as if no one else was around.
That pungent odor was clearly radiating from him.
"Holy crap, they really let anyone play games these days." The player pinched his nose, his face full of disgust.
"Hey, don't judge a book by its cover. Maybe he's roleplaying as the 'Spider', Lord Varys," his companion said.
If you ignored the companion's winking and lecherous expression, an unknowing bystander might think he was actually defending the guy.
"I didn't want to attack his looks, but his getup is attacking my fragile soul."
The two of them went back and forth, their words drifting clearly into the ears of the "Court Eunuch."
But the player in question clearly didn't give a damn.
Two morons. What the hell do you know?
Although this update added the "Court Eunuch" class for players...
Who in their right mind would want to experience being a eunuch just for fun?
So, among the four hundred new players, aside from this brother with the ID Nine_Thousand_Years, there was absolutely no one else.
This brother, whose name alone revealed his ambition (a reference to the historical title of a powerful Chinese eunuch), was truly one of a kind—like a scorpion's dropping, unique in the world.
Facing the increasing confusion and ridicule around him, Nine_Thousand_Years remained calm. In his eyes, these were just stumbling blocks before he achieved his ambition.
As a certain man once said: How can a man's path be smooth sailing all the way?
He wasn't here to suffer; he was here to be the first person in the game to eat a crab—a pioneer!
When that pioneer, Mouse_Is_Duck, became the Intelligence Assistant—effectively the Master of Whisperers—and started showing off his title with screenshots offline...
Nine_Thousand_Years already had an idea. When the update introduced the Court Eunuch role, it was like a lightbulb went off in his head. He thought of a brilliant way to make money.
And that was to become a eunuch by the King's side and sell intelligence to other players!
Whether it was intelligence submitted by Mouse_Is_Duck or decrees the King was about to issue, he could use it all to exchange for cash. In his view, state affairs at this stage were practically transparent.
Probably similar to the British government—full of leaks.
As long as he could get firsthand intelligence, there would definitely be people willing to buy it.
One by one, the players in front of him were led away by guilds. The solo players remained where they were, indifferent, gathering in twos and threes with veteran players. No need to ask; they were negotiating offline cash for in-game Kingdom Coins.
"Are you... a Court Eunuch?"
A figure walked over and stopped in front of him.
It was him. The Man. The rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the True Dragon—Viserys Targaryen!
"Your Grace!"
Nine_Thousand_Years bowed his head. The first step to making money was getting "Vi-bro" to accept him. His heart was pounding like a drum. If he got stuck right at step one, his name would go down in history as a joke.
"Mm. Follow me from now on." Viserys's gaze swept over the player's lower body with a meaningful look, coughed lightly, and turned to leave.
Good lord. There really are "warriors" among the players.
Phew.
Nine_Thousand_Years breathed a sigh of relief. Then, under the baffled gazes of the other players, he mimicked the eunuch walk he had frantically studied from TV dramas, taking small, mincing steps as he followed behind Viserys.
---
Meanwhile.
Inside the barracks, the "Laughing Storm Legion," formed by the Thunder Hall of the [Storm] guild, was fully assembled. All eight hundred members were looking up at their Guild Leader—now Legion Commander—as he spoke.
Viserys wasn't aware of this yet, but if he had noticed the name, he would have definitely come to ask which genius picked it. It would undoubtedly remind him of a certain Baratheon ancestor.
The Heroes Guild, led by Nebula_Breaker, also rallied players to form the "Windblown Cloud Legion," numbering seven hundred strong.
Pineapple_Pizza_Lover's Templar Knights converted directly from a guild to a legion, with five hundred members.
Below the three major guilds, there were over a dozen smaller legions like the "Spear Corps," the "Iron-Blooded Lads," and the "Heathen Crusaders." They ranged from seventy or eighty members to two or three hundred. It gave the impression that the water was shallow, but the turtles were many—everyone wanted to be a boss.
Although Viserys sighed when he learned about this, the players were having fun.
Viserys could only say: As long as you're happy.
He was incredibly busy right now. Merchants were dissatisfied with customs seizing different currencies at different tax rates; there were complaints about the unfairness of a flat tax rate for small caravans regardless of ship size, and so on.
Although the West didn't use "memorials to the throne" like in the East, the nature of the work was the same. A mountain of envelopes filled with nonsense and complaints piled up.
Daenerys sat quietly to the side, watching her frowning brother. The three dragon eggs lay quietly nearby, like napping house cats.
The newly appointed Nine_Thousand_Years was organizing the envelopes that had been replied to. Since the King opened them all personally, it was convenient for him to read them.
To be honest, he had gathered a lot of intel, but most of it was garbage. Things like, "Your Grace, what did you have for lunch? Your servant had grilled trout with pigeon soup."
Or it was about tax adjustments for different ship sizes. Important, sure, but it had nothing to do with the players for now.
"Mm?"
Another envelope was tossed over by the King. Nine_Thousand_Years instinctively scanned the contents while organizing it:
"Plan for the Full Occupation of Ghoyan Drohe."
Nine_Thousand_Years skimmed it. It was written to "Vi-bro" by an NPC named Belwas. It mentioned a proposal to fully occupy Ghoyan Drohe and integrate all the Andal and Rhoynar tribes. The King had drawn quite a few circles on it.
Likely suggestions for revision.
Nine_Thousand_Years didn't read it in detail. Instead, he directly used the player's built-in screenshot function to snap a picture of the letter. Then, he placed the envelope into the "Class A" pile, according to the King's A, B, C, D priority sorting system.
A moment later, a white-cloaked guard walked in from outside. Nine_Thousand_Years knew he was a player, too—he could tell by the ID above his head. He also knew that most of these guys in white cloaks were foreigners.
Seeing the man take the envelopes away, Nine_Thousand_Years turned back and continued sorting.
The envelopes were categorized by urgency. The guard at the door would come in every so often to take them, prioritizing the return of important letters.
He had already become proficient at the job, so he didn't have to scramble to sort the mountain of mail when the white cloak walked in.
Being a eunuch doesn't seem that hard. Nine_Thousand_Years, whose goal was to become the "Lord of the Seal," began to handle his primary and secondary jobs with ease.
Occasionally snapping photos of letters that seemed useful to players, he soon made it to the moment when Viserys finished his government affairs.