The group soon arrived at the designated meeting tent.
Because someone had to keep an eye on the wall construction progress, Oswell left midway.
Arthur stood to the right of Viserys, tall and imposing like an iron tower. Oberyn and the Old Crab flanked him on either side.
The man they were meeting was none other than the steward of Elder Terno.
His name was Ruchel.
The moment he saw the lineup Viserys had arranged, a wave of nervousness wrapped around him.
Let alone Arthur, whose strength was obvious at a glance—even that man with a hint of Rhoynar blood didn't look like someone ordinary.
Just a single glance from him made Ruchel feel incredibly uneasy.
Still, Ruchel had a decent eye for things. He didn't mistake the person of importance and, after bowing to Viserys, stated his purpose.
"Your Grace, King Targaryen, after deliberation among our Council of Elders, we hope you would consider raising the wages for our people."
Ruchel forced a stiff and unconvincing smile as he spoke.
"Heh, Lord Ruchel, you jest. No one is forcing those farmers to help build my walls. If I'd set the wages too low, they simply wouldn't have come.
Since they have come, it means they find the pay acceptable. So why should I increase it?"
Viserys hadn't expected this man to come here asking for more money!
Clearly, he had overestimated these so-called Rhoynar Elders.
His gaze toward Ruchel held a faint trace of contempt. Yet, he didn't throw his royal authority around immediately.
After all, the Rhoynar had once created a magnificent civilization—they carried great pride in that history.
Both sides were maintaining a stance of courtesy before force.
But this turn of events made Oberyn's face hard to keep straight. He'd actually spoken in support of these people before—and this was how they repay that?
He had hoped those of shared blood would cause Viserys a bit of trouble.
What a disgrace. How did the proud Rhoynar come to be reduced to this by a bunch of worms?
"Your Grace, the additional wages are for the Council of Elders," Ruchel added with an even more ingratiating smile. "Managing the constant flow of laborers has been very difficult for us."
Before Viserys could respond, Oberyn let out a short, sharp laugh.
Unlike Arthur, who stood tall and righteous—like he could be worshipped in a shrine—Oberyn exuded a far more sinister air.
His sneer chilled the atmosphere in the tent.
"Why should we pay for that? Does your Council of Elders think our money grows on trees?"
Viserys wiped away his smile. Clearly, the other side had stopped pretending.
What Ruchel was saying, in plain terms, was: "Give us a cut."
Realizing Viserys might be getting upset, Ruchel quickly tried to smooth things over:
"Please, Your Grace, if you're willing to slightly raise the wages, we're prepared to organize the workers for you. That way, your wall will be completed faster, and the poor farmers can earn a little more food."
Seeing Ruchel put it that way, Viserys's expression eased slightly.
Although from observing Baelor, Viserys already knew Ruchel's talk of improving the farmers' lives was utter nonsense…
It didn't matter. All he wanted was to confirm whether the Council of Elders was just trying to cash in on this.
"Very well. What rate do you want the pay increased to?"
Seeing that Viserys had softened, Ruchel's eyes nearly squinted shut from his grin.
"Well, if you could raise it by ten iron coins per person, I believe that would be fair."
"Absolutely not!"
Before Ruchel had even finished, Viserys shut him down decisively.
The daily wage of thirty iron coins per person was a carefully calculated figure.
Any increase in that rate could lead to a dangerous consequence—they could afford to buy grain from the south, from Volantis.
And if that happened, Viserys's entire plan would fall apart.
Thirty iron coins. Not a single coin more!
Ruchel's offer only confirmed for Viserys that the man was here purely for profit.
If they'd asked for thirty or fifty coins, that might've meant they were provoking war. Because Viserys would never accept such terms.
But a mere ten Braavosi iron square coins… That meant they truly wanted to make money without causing war.
"Your Grace, you really won't reconsider giving just a bit more?"
"No. Thirty iron coins. Not a single copper more!"
Ruchel's fat face instantly lost its smile. Straightening from his ever-so-slight bow, he spoke:
"Then, I shall relay Your Grace's words exactly to the Council. But I must inform you that, in a few days, there may be no Rhoynar workers left to build your wall."
Though his expression shifted, Ruchel's tone remained calm and respectful.
But Viserys slammed a hand down hard on the table.
BANG—
He stood up abruptly and glared at Ruchel with intensity:
"What do you mean by that? Are the Rhoynar preparing to attack my city?!"
His reaction caught Ruchel off guard—especially the overwhelming pressure he now felt.
Ruchel had been underestimating this young king. But under Viserys's furious gaze, he felt as though he were being hunted by a wild beast.
And Arthur's stare—sharp as arrows—made cold sweat run down Ruchel's back.
He quickly bent into another bow.
"Your Grace, please don't misunderstand. We have no intention of launching an attack."
"No intention of attacking?" Viserys shouted. "What do you mean by that?
You're obstructing my wall's construction—what else could that be but preparation for an attack, hmm?!"
Ruchel hadn't expected such a huge reaction. He hadn't even thought that far ahead.
Their entire purpose was to make money, not risk their lives.
They couldn't afford to risk their lives—how would they make money then?
"Your Grace, I—I assure you, the Elders have no such intentions. Please don't be angry. I'll return and make it clear to them. I'm sure they'd be willing to compromise on the wages."
Ruchel cursed himself for not speaking faster. He felt like his tongue was no longer enough to keep up.
Viserys didn't say another word. He simply ordered his guards to escort the man out.
Ruchel felt like the tent he was in had become a cage full of beasts.
He practically fled.
He even tripped over the carpet on his way out.
Once he was gone, Oberyn asked, "What now?"
"What now? Ser Arthur—assemble the army. I'm going to bring war to Terno."
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