"Ha! Forgive my honesty, but it is hard to sit at the same table with such a false friend!"
The Braavosi envoy wore a look of utter disdain, but internally, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He had actually been worried that the Targaryen would offer something more valuable than he did and persuade the Lorathi to side with them.
But he had overthought it. In terms of wealth, who can compare to the Iron Bank? In terms of trade, who can rival the purple-sailed merchant fleet of Braavos?
Now it seemed his opponent was either dirt poor or just like that Beggar King in Pentos—arrogant enough to believe the world owed him allegiance simply because of his name.
Hmph. Arrogant fool.
Across the long table, the faces of the three Princes darkened. Their subordinates had warned them that the Targaryen envoy had arrived empty-handed.
But to not even offer verbal promises of profit? Why the hell are you sitting here negotiating with us?
Unexpectedly, Jiang-Gan's next words made the three of them laugh in anger.
"I have come to save Lorath. Do the three Princes not realize that disaster is looming over your heads?" Jiang-Gan said slowly.
"Guards! Escort this envoy out!" The Fisher Prince stood up abruptly and barked orders to the surrounding attendants and guards.
The Braavosi envoy was beaming. I thought he was a rival. Turns out he's a clown.
Schlick!
The envoy's smile froze on his face. A gleaming dinner knife—meant for cutting bread—was now buried in his neck, the hilt gripped firmly in Jiang-Gan's hand.
Jiang-Gan pulled the knife out. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
The envoy tried to cover the wound with his hands, but Jiang-Gan, expressionless, stabbed him again and again until the people around them finally reacted and rushed over to restrain him.
But it was too late. The envoy from Braavos was dead as a doornail.
Unless the Seven Gods intervened personally, no one could save him now.
"You! You killed him!" The Harvest Prince stared in disbelief at the Targaryen envoy, who was pinned to the floor but still holding his head high with stubborn pride.
"Isn't... isn't that obvious?" Jiang-Gan struggled to breathe under the weight of the guards, but a smile crept onto his face.
Bang!
The doors to the inner chamber of the council room were violently thrown open. Two tall guards with halberds took their positions, and a group of finely dressed nobles stormed out aggressively.
"Look at what you've done, you damned fool!"
An old man, dressed like a wealthy merchant and clearly the leader, pointed a shaking finger at Jiang-Gan.
"I know exactly what happened. The envoy of Lorath and Targaryen has killed the envoy of Braavos."
"No matter how you spin it, he died in Lorath. What do you think the Sealord of Braavos will think?"
Jiang-Gan spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.
"Kill him! Send his head to the Braavosi!" a noble shouted.
"Hand him over to Braavos directly! They need us. Even if the Sealord suspects us, he won't do anything drastic!" a priest yelled.
"True! But what happens after Braavos wins? You will be in the wrong. During the war, Braavos will use you as cannon fodder. You will suffer countless casualties.
And when victory comes, a weakened Lorath that has bled itself dry... won't you just be a piece of meat on Braavos's plate?"
Jiang-Gan spoke with confidence, acting completely fearless.
"In contrast, House Targaryen does not require Lorath to send troops. We only ask that you remain neutral in the coming war. When it is over, my King will reward you generously!"
Seeing that his words had silenced the room, Jiang-Gan swallowed hard and continued to bluff, wrapping himself in the tiger skin of Targaryen power.
"Release the envoy!"
The members of the Magisters' Council whispered among themselves for a moment. Having reached a consensus, the wealthy merchant—the most influential man in the room—ordered the guards to let him go.
His angry expression softened into a warm smile as he walked over and personally helped Jiang-Gan back to his seat.
Just a little joke earlier! No hard feelings!
Everyone sat back down. The Braavosi envoy, now lying in a pool of blood, was dragged away by servants like a sack of potatoes.
The three Princes remained in the seats of honor but didn't say another word.
Jiang-Gan, who had just been pinned to the floor like a criminal, was now the guest of honor.
"Envoy, it is not that we do not trust you, but we really haven't seen any sincerity from King Viserys!"
A priest spoke slowly. Although he hated Jiang-Gan's guts, the deed was done. For their own benefit, he had to ask.
The other members of the Magisters' Council turned their eyes to Jiang-Gan. Sure, you talked your way out of execution and explained the stakes clearly. But you still came empty-handed. That shows a lack of sincerity.
Jiang-Gan knew exactly what they were thinking. Coming empty-handed was indeed insincere. The problem was, he was a fake envoy. He hadn't received permission or support from Viserys beforehand.
He was here to gamble—empty hands trying to catch a white wolf. He was playing the "Su He forces Ying Bu to rebel" card. Burn the bridges so they have no choice but to join us.
Guess I have to paint them a big, beautiful pie to bluff them, Jiang-Gan thought. If we beat Braavos, who cares about Lorath? Maybe the Boss will conquer Lorath next anyway.
As for ruining the diplomatic reputation of House Targaryen? Jiang-Gan shrugged internally. I'm Secret Police, not a diplomat. After me, let the floodwaters rise.
Mind made up, Jiang-Gan cleared his throat. He radiated such confidence that many council members secretly sighed in relief. Judging by his attitude, the offer must be huge.
No wonder he dared to come alone and empty-handed. He has a massive cake to offer.
"We will split everything in Braavos fifty-fifty!"
If words could kill, these would be mass murderers.
Jiang-Gan's soft words caused everyone in the room to hold their breath. Silence reigned for a long time.
You could hear a pin drop in the hall.
Finally, the old merchant sitting next to Jiang-Gan broke the silence, asking tentatively:
"Surely the envoy is joking? The Braavosi fleet is unrivaled. The Iron Bank has enough gold to hire tens of thousands of sellswords instantly. Winning a battle is one thing, but splitting Braavos itself? Surely you jest."
Though he asked, there was a hint of certainty in the old man's tone that Jiang-Gan was crazy.
Jiang-Gan sneered.
"Everyone knows of the Invincible Fleet of Braavos. But can his ships sail on land? As for the Iron Bank? My King's soldiers are warriors who can fight ten men each. Let him hire as many sellswords as he wants; my King will crush them all!"
The members of the Magisters' Council began whispering again.
"How many years has it been? How long has Lorath been poor? Do you gentlemen wish to sink into obscurity forever? This is your only chance! Braavos may have an invincible fleet at sea!
But my King has an invincible army of justice! No mercenary hired by Braavos can stand against them. Unless their ships learn to sail on land, the advantage is ours!"