"An apple?" Drogo murmured, his eyes narrowing as he observed Viserys's actions. A small tremor of awe rippled through the Khal's heart. Even the greatest warriors could never achieve such precision.
Drogo leaned forward, leaving his back exposed, captivated by the unfolding scene. He wondered if Viserys could truly pull off this feat—and if he did, what would it mean for their duel?
Though Drogo meticulously prepared for every duel, he often found that his research was in vain once the battle began. Over time, he had grown accustomed to a sense of invincibility, a loneliness that came with knowing no one could challenge him. None of the Dothraki warriors dared face him one-on-one, and the reason he chose Cohollo and the others as his Bloodriders was simply because they had lasted the longest among his subordinates.
Now, at last, he felt he might have found a worthy opponent in Viserys.
With the blast of a horn, Viserys set off in search of a target. Several civilians, seeing him bend his bow and aim an arrow in their direction, instinctively tensed up. Though Young Connington had instructed them to hold the apples high above their heads, fear took hold when the moment came. Some hid the apples in their arms, while others threw them away and tried to flee.
Viserys grew anxious. No matter how skilled an archer, he couldn't shoot a hidden target. He shouted, "Pick up an apple! If you want to live, pick up an apple!"
This blunder provoked unrelenting laughter from the Dothraki, who had briefly entertained the possibility that Viserys might succeed.
"I thought he could really shoot the apple off," one jeered. "Those cowardly milkmen, they shit themselves at the sight of a horse."
Viserys ignored their taunts, calculating the time in his head while searching for a target. Soon enough, a few civilians with stronger nerves raised the apples high above their heads. One young man, about 18 or 19 years old, exposed as much of the apple as possible to Viserys.
Snap!
Viserys didn't disappoint. An arrow flew past the young man's head, striking the apple dead center. The young man stared at the pierced apple, shocked and overjoyed—he knew he had survived.
Once someone took the lead, the others followed suit. One arrow, two arrows... eight arrows, ten arrows... each shot was precise.
"Long live Prince Viserys!" cried Regis, Viserys's self-proclaimed cheerleader, unable to contain his excitement.
"Stop shouting! You'll distract the Prince!" Young Connington quickly admonished him. This wasn't a swordsmanship competition, and in archery, silence was essential.
Realizing his mistake, Regis fell silent. Meanwhile, the Dothraki were no longer amused. They watched in stunned disbelief as Viserys continued his miraculous display of archery.
Soon, some clever commoners realized a crucial detail—if the nobleman in the black cloak didn't intend to kill them, why were they running? The first to notice this stopped in his tracks, standing still to let Viserys take aim. A stationary target was much easier to hit than a moving one.
No more running. Just stand still.
Viserys felt so confident he thought he could shoot blindfolded. Before long, he had used all 36 arrows in his quiver, earning the admiration of the Free Cities nobles.
"You despicable milkmen! You cheated, you damned slaves!" Haggo roared in fury. He mounted his horse, drew his sword, and charged at the civilians.
Viserys couldn't let the lives he had just saved be lost so easily. Without hesitation, he flung his dragonbone bow at Haggo. The bow struck the horse's head, causing it to rear in pain and collapse on top of Haggo.
When the Dothraki pulled the horse off Haggo, they discovered his thigh was twisted at a grotesque angle—a broken bone. For a Dothraki, this was almost as good as a death sentence.
"Tell your Drogo this battle is a draw, and if he agrees, prepare for the next one," Viserys declared.
Drogo agreed.
Without pausing to accept the nobles' congratulations, Viserys instructed Jorah to stay behind and prepare for the next battle.
"Prince, our 10,000 cavalry can set off for Chroyane tonight," Connington said.
"Feles, Shinelli, I'm leaving you in charge," Viserys ordered the two men.
Feles and Shinelli had taken on the faces of Viserys and Dany, respectively. Their task was to remain behind and confuse the Horselords and others. Despite the size difference, as long as they maintained a certain distance, it would be difficult for anyone to notice the deception.
Viserys and Regis took a long detour to avoid drawing attention. Now, with the cavalry, they would head straight to Chroyane, arriving in just over a day.
Two days later, Viserys planned to appear behind Drogo and confront him face-to-face.
"Don't worry, Prince!" Feles assured him confidently.
That night, on a secluded beach, Cohollo approached Kambron, his face twisted with anger.
"Why haven't the Faceless Men done their job yet?" Cohollo demanded.
"It's almost done. Viserys only arrived at the barracks the day before yesterday. Even the best assassins need time," Kambron replied.
"You'd better not waste Khal Drogo's time! You know what will happen if you do," Cohollo threatened.
In truth, Cohollo knew Jess's identity was solid, and Kambron's anxiety seemed genuine. Drogo had committed everything to this expedition, bringing his entire horde along. If they couldn't secure enough supplies from the Free Cities, their situation would deteriorate rapidly.
After the tense exchange, Kambron vented his frustration on Cassius. "Why haven't the Faceless Men made a move yet?"
"How should I know? Do you think I can control a Faceless Man?" Cassius snapped back.
"My daughter is still in the hands of the Dothraki!" Kambron shot back.
"And you've been pocketing profits from the tobacco trade!"
"But Viserys is still alive!"
"Enough!" Cassius roared, ending the bickering.
Tregar intervened, silencing them both. The truth was, none of them had ever dealt with the Faceless Men before. They didn't fully understand how the assassins operated. Rumors painted them as highly efficient, yet their apparent delay was unsettling. To be fair, the men had been impatient—Viserys had only just appeared, and no matter how skilled the Faceless Men were, they weren't omnipotent.
"I'll tell the Alchemist's Guild in Lys to prepare more wildfire," Tregar decided. "If Viserys wins this battle and the Faceless Men can't kill him… well, aren't the Targaryens known for having 'blood and fire in their veins'? We'll let the wildfire take care of him!"