The old captain, the Tattered Prince, hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, which only deepened the dark circles under his eyes. His expression remained as inscrutable as ever, like a statue chiseled in stone, but his frequent rounds through the camp betrayed his inner turmoil.
It wasn't just him; the entire Windblown Corps was closely watching Viserys's movements. After all, Viserys had taken a significant number of their best soldiers, including four sergeant majors. If they were defeated by the pirates, the Windblown's combat effectiveness would be severely compromised in the short term.
The old captain secretly regretted his decision to take on "this business," realizing it may have been foolish. But he couldn't afford to show his doubt. Instead, he made regular appearances among the mercenaries to keep their morale steady.
As he made his way around the barracks, he came upon Darsent's camp. He noticed the soldiers weren't training but were instead engaged in idle chatter. Rather than reprimanding them immediately, he decided to listen in on their conversation.
Darsent had initially opposed Viserys's decapitation operation, never expecting him to pull off such a feat. Viserys had spent a fortune that could have hired half the Sellswords, taking away only the strength of one battalion.
"Boss, if Caggo and that Viserys don't come back, who do you think the captain will appoint as sergeant major of those battalions?" one soldier asked.
"Heh, it's not going to be you," Darsent replied with a disdainful glance.
In truth, Darsent hoped Viserys wouldn't return. Although the 7th Battalion had been decimated, there were still many capable men in it. Darsent had expected those men to be transferred to his command, but they had been intercepted by Viserys.
Over the past three months, Viserys had indeed rebuilt the Seventh Battalion. The quality of the soldiers and their equipment had significantly improved, and many sergeants were already eyeing the battalion as a desirable "inheritance."
Just then, Darsent heard the sound of a horse snorting. He turned to see the old captain approaching.
"Damn, when did The Tattered Prince show up?" Darsent muttered.
He and the others hurried to rise and greet him, but the old captain simply glanced at them and walked away.
"Captain?" one of the men ventured.
"Captain, my ass! Get back to training!" Darsent barked, his embarrassment evident.
Two days later, a rumor began to spread along the Rhoyne. It claimed that a powerful pirate sorcerer had killed everyone at a party and decapitated many of the pirates. Some versions said the sorcerer had slain at least 500 pirates; others claimed the number was in the thousands. Each version of the tale came with its own set of convincing details.
Regardless of which version was true, the rumors only deepened the Tattered Prince's anxiety. Whether the pirate sorcerer existed or not, the more pressing question was why Viserys and his men hadn't returned if they had already achieved their goal. Could it be that they had fallen victim to this sorcerer as well?
As the rumor spread through the camp, the Tattered Prince found himself spending even more time and energy trying to maintain the troops' morale.
"Commander, let me go find them," Meris volunteered to the Tattered Prince.
"Find them? How? Do you even know where they are?" the old captain replied, his voice tinged with frustration.
"But we can't just sit here and do nothing!" Meris insisted.
"All right! Don't worry about it. If they don't return in two weeks, you and I will head to Tyrosh and recruit some new sergeants."
The Tattered Prince was starting to regret his decision. He should never have let Viserys leave, even for the sake of the money. But at the time, Viserys had been so certain, so confident in his plan. Yet now, it seemed that the unexpected had happened, and who could have predicted they'd encounter a sorcerer? 'Is the bloodline of the Dragonlords about to be cut off?' the old captain mused, unable to suppress a weary sigh.
Three days later, as he was discussing the reorganization of Viserys and Caggo's camps with Denzo, he was preparing to summon Meris to travel to Tyrosh when news suddenly arrived. It was Jorah, who had been following Viserys, who brought it.
"Commander, Lord Viserys has arrived at the port of Tyrosh. We've also brought back a substantial amount of weapons and equipment. He requests that you send someone to receive them."
"Weapons and equipment? What happened? Take your time and explain," the old captain said, pouring Jorah a cup of tea with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Jorah, nearly taken aback, was surprised to have the old captain himself serve him tea. During his time as a mercenary, it was rare to even see the captain, let alone be treated with such courtesy.
As Jorah recounted the events, the Tattered Prince and Denzo listened intently, their expressions shifting from concern to astonishment. The old captain finally understood just how precarious the situation had been, while Denzo, usually so composed, was visibly shaken by Jorah's tale. They couldn't help but picture the tense moments, marveling at Viserys' sheer audacity.
"So you also went to Volantis?" the old captain asked.
"Yes, mainly to secure the equipment. We acquired over 800 sets of plate armor alone, not to mention other weapons." Jorah replied.
When the Tattered Prince heard the number "over 800," his eyes widened in disbelief, and even the deep bags under his eyes seemed to shrink a bit. He exchanged a glance with Denzo, both fully aware of what this meant for the Windblown. With over 800 sets of plate armor, they could immediately expand their forces by 1,000 men, the equivalent of three battalions, significantly boosting their overall strength. And with the looming conflict between Tyrosh and Lys, business opportunities would be plentiful.
But as the old captain's excitement grew, Denzo's mind quickly turned to the potential risks. If Viserys had this much equipment, what was stopping him from starting his own company? When Jorah mentioned that Viserys had arranged for his soldiers to celebrate for seven days in Volantis, Denzo's alarm bells went off. This sounded like a calculated move to win loyalty and perhaps prepare for a power grab. The initial euphoria of acquiring such a large cache of equipment quickly gave way to concern.
He had founded the Windblown with the long-term goal of returning to Pentos and exacting revenge. If he lost control of the Windblown now, lured by the promise of equipment, it would be a devastating blow. The Tattered Prince, now nearing 60, didn't have the luxury of starting a new mercenary group from scratch.
The two men dismissed Jorah, then began strategizing their next steps. "The key now is to make Caggo and the others remember that they are still part of the Windblown," Denzo remarked.
The old captain nodded in agreement. Seizing the equipment outright was out of the question—it would deal a severe blow to the Windblown's reputation. Alienating Viserys could push him to the other side, and such a move would undoubtedly distance the other mercenaries from their leadership.
"Let's take more men with us," the old captain decided.