The sudden appearance of Viserys diverted everyone's attention from the current discussion. The nobles were abuzz, speculating about the true purpose of his visit. If he was here to negotiate a surrender, why had Tyrosh sent a sellsword instead of a proper emissary?
"Could it be that the Windblown and Tyrosh haven't reached an agreement?" Tregar asked Qaga.
"It's possible. It would be beneficial if the Windblown were willing to join us, but who knows what kind of price they'd demand?" Qaga replied. Some nobles who had previously fought alongside Rovi noted that without the Windblown's unexpected intervention, they might have won. In other words, the Windblown were truly formidable—fighters who could turn the tide of battle. Aligning with such a mercenary group could be advantageous. The Windblown had no strong ties, so even if they charged a high price, they could be dismissed easily afterward. However, as a trading city-state, Lys prided itself on being more "refined" than mercenaries. Many of the Free Cities' nobles looked down on such groups, and they were likely to be critical and make things difficult for Viserys.
Despite whatever plans the Lysene nobles were concocting, Viserys soon arrived at the Council Hall. As a true descendant of the Dragonlords, his presence softened the hostility of some female nobles. In fact, a few of them even entertained the notion that being captured by such a man might not be so terrible. The majority of those present regarded Viserys with mixed emotions—surprised to learn he had come alone with only one servant. Seeing him standing before them, they couldn't help but feel a blend of admiration and awe. In his position, none of them would have dared to venture out alone.
However, among the many gazes, Rovi's was tinged with resentment. If not for Viserys, he wouldn't have ended up a defeated general. Deciding to take the initiative, Rovi spoke with a condescending tone: "Haha! Viserys! I recall the last Targaryen who was almost sold to a brothel was also named Viserys, wasn't he?"
Viserys's mouth twitched, but he stopped Regis from reacting in anger. In House Targaryen, there had been three "Viserys", including himself.
If he succeeded in claiming the Iron Throne, he would be Viserys III. Rovi was referring to Viserys II, who had been captured by a Lysene general during the Dance of the Dragons and nearly sold to a brothel. The Targaryen family had been forced to sign a series of unequal treaties to secure his release, even marrying him to a Lysene woman before he could return to Westeros.
"Yes, but the last person who was disrespectful to Viserys met a violent end," Viserys retorted, alluding to the Lysene general who captured Viserys II and was later murdered.
As the tension between the two escalated, Tregar intervened, cutting through the pointless verbal sparring. "I wonder what brings the Prince to Lys under these circumstances?" From the man's appearance, Viserys recognized him as the one who had taken Jorah's wife, which was why he had not brought Jorah to Lys.
"Cooperation, of course. Tyrosh is about to face significant trouble, so why should the Windblown be sacrificed?" Viserys replied.
"Trouble?" The word sparked confusion among some of the nobles. Tyrosh seemed to be winning, so how could he be in trouble? But as Viserys elaborated, the pieces began to fall into place.
Their recent string of failures suddenly made sense. With Viserys's insight, they realized that Free Cities like Sunspear, Myr, and even Pentos and Volantis, would not idly watch Tyrosh annex Lys. They actually had many potential allies.
'The leader of the Windblown is no ordinary man,' Tregar thought. Viserys's approach aligned perfectly with his own intentions. As the leader of the nobles, Tregar exchanged a glance with Qaga, and in each other's eyes, they saw a flicker of hope.
At that moment, they all realized that the Windblown were led by a shrewd strategist who understood the complexities of the situation. But could a single mercenary group like the Windblown really handle the responsibility of such a broad and delicate "chain alliance"?
Tregar questioned further, "So, what's your plan? Are you going to persuade Myr and Sunspear to support Lys as a mere mercenary?"
Viserys replied with a touch of disdain, "What else? You? Is there a better option? I'm a guest here, yet I've been in your presence for nearly a quarter of an hour without so much as a cup of tea offered. Is this how the nobles of Lys treat their guests?" He turned as if to leave.
"You want to leave? Guards!" Rovi, who had remained silent until now, could no longer contain himself and barked the command.
"Stop! Stand down!" Tregar's voice boomed louder, halting the guards in their tracks. He shot a furious glare at Rovi before signaling for tea to be served to Viserys. Then he addressed him, "My lord, are you truly willing to form an alliance with the other Free Cities on behalf of Lys?"
"Of course," Viserys responded, "as long as you can meet my price."
Sensing that Viserys was about to name his terms, the nobles leaned in, eager to hear his proposal.
"Speak," Tregar urged.
"After the alliance is formed, Lys will sign a ten-year contract with the Windblown for three thousand permanent soldiers."
A ten-year commitment and three thousand soldiers. The numbers alone made several nobles wince. The entire Lys garrison numbered only around ten thousand men, and this deal would essentially place their security in the hands of outsiders.
"No! This is impossible!" Rovi erupted once more.
"Gentlemen, if this man doesn't shut his mouth, I believe this meeting is over," Viserys warned, his patience wearing thin.
"You—!"
"Lord Rovi!" Tregar cut in sharply. Despite the hope Viserys's analysis had inspired, they all knew that this hope hinged entirely on his willingness to help. If Rovi continued to disrupt the meeting, their chances of survival could vanish.
"Lord Rovi," Tregar said coldly, without even glancing in his direction, "I think it's time for you to go home and rest. The damage you've caused to Lys will be addressed at a later time."
Rovi felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. His personal guard had been decimated at Dragon's Flame Fortress, leaving him powerless—a tiger without claws. To many in the room, Rovi no longer deserved a seat at the table.
"No! You can't do this! You can't..." His voice trailed off as he sank into his chair, defeated and hollow, like a dog stripped of its dignity.
Tregar ignored Rovi's collapse and turned his attention back to Viserys. "Lord, ten years is too long, and three thousand men is too many. What do you think of one thousand men for five years?"
The leaders of Lys were all present, and Tregar knew that securing favorable terms for the city would enhance his own standing.
"Seven years, three thousand men," Viserys countered.
"Five years, two thousand," Tregar negotiated.
"Five years, four thousand," Viserys shot back.
This time, Tregar refrained from further bargaining. Instead, he looked to the gathered nobles and asked, "Everyone, is this price acceptable?"