A gentle breeze swept across Freygo's Smiling Ship.
The hanging smiling masks clattered together, producing an eerie sound like strange laughter echoing across the deck.
Inside the captain's cabin stood a figure dressed in a long robe with a black hood concealing his face.
His mere presence seemed to lower the temperature of the room.
"Nameless One," Freygo asked, "are you certain you can kill Viserys?"
"I am highly confident, Your Majesty."
With the return of dragons and the surge of magical power sweeping across the world, the Faceless Men had also grown considerably stronger.
Ancient techniques that had existed only in forgotten records could now be used once more.
That was the source of their confidence.
"I've heard Your Majesty intends to return the payment to Viserys," the hooded assassin continued. "I came to confirm whether the contract is still in effect."
Ever since returning to Braavos, Freygo had been occupied with two matters.
One was expelling the Red Priests.
The other was gathering the enormous ransom owed to Viserys.
The sum amounted to four years' worth of taxes collected from the North, the Vale, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands combined.
Raising such an astronomical amount of wealth was no easy task.
The House of Black and White could not simply ignore the situation. If Freygo no longer wished to kill Viserys, they would return the payment.
After all, Braavos was the only place where the Faceless Men truly enjoyed protection.
If Braavos were destroyed, they would lose their sanctuary as well.
Nothing in this world was absolute.
Faced with the Nameless One's question, Freygo clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly around the cabin.
Viserys was preparing to invade Westeros.
Perhaps there was no longer any need to kill him.
But what would happen after he conquered the Seven Kingdoms?
According to the Iron Bank's latest assessment, Viserys stood an excellent chance of defeating Robert.
There were several reasons.
For years, Viserys had waged an aggressive propaganda campaign through inexpensive printed publications.
House Baratheon's reputation had already been utterly ruined.
Robert's oppressive taxation had also turned the common people against him.
More importantly, the feudal structure of Westeros meant the five rebel kingdoms could raise no more soldiers than they had during Robert's Rebellion.
Meanwhile, the Reach and Dorne still possessed tremendous untapped military potential.
And above all...
There were the dragons.
Even though they had not yet reached maturity, their effect on morale alone was immeasurable.
Viserys could afford to lose one battle.
Perhaps even two.
Robert could not.
Even a limited defeat might trigger the collapse of his entire kingdom.
The Iron Bank and its advisors predicted that Viserys would seize the Crownlands, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands during the first phase of the war.
The Baratheon royal family would most likely flee either to the Westerlands or to the Vale.
But none of that was Freygo's greatest concern.
What truly worried him was what would come afterward.
If Viserys conquered Westeros, House Targaryen's strength would enter yet another period of explosive growth.
Especially considering...
Viserys was only seventeen years old.
Combined with everything he had already accomplished, that single fact was terrifying.
Freygo did not even dare imagine what Gohor would look like ten years from now.
Much less thirty years.
More frightening still...
Thirty years later, Viserys would only be forty-seven.
Provided he maintained his health, he would still be in the prime of his life.
Even worse, he would have three decades—or perhaps far longer—to carefully train his heir.
That meant an even more enduring Targaryen dynasty.
Everything pointed toward one conclusion: Viserys was an extraordinarily ambitious man.
Pentos had already become little more than his client state.
Yet...
If the assassination failed, Braavos itself would be forced to face Targaryen wrath.
We still possess the greatest fleet in the world. We still have the Braavosi mountains.
Our heavy scorpions are being manufactured at full speed.
Thinking of Braavos's own strength, Freygo regained his confidence. He looked at the Nameless One before him and nodded firmly.
Receiving his answer, the hooded assassin vanished like a wisp of smoke.
The display strengthened Freygo's confidence even further.
Not long after the Nameless One departed, another message arrived.
A Red Priest wished to meet him.
While Viserys was preparing to march on Pentos, the scattered followers of the Lord of Light had already begun reconnecting with one another.
In Volantis, Benerro had gathered another group of Red Priests and managed to recover nearly two hundred Hands of the Sacred Flame.
Even some of the slaves still undergoing training in the temple had been promoted directly into their ranks.
Once again, Benerro commanded several hundred followers.
In Braavos, Freygo's purge had been considerably less brutal. As a result, the expelled followers of the Lord of Light quickly regrouped.
Rather than weakening their faith, the persecution had only strengthened it.
After all...
Their distant god had finally demonstrated what a true miracle looked like.
Every Red Priest now possessed absolute confidence that House Targaryen could be destroyed.
Their conviction bordered on fanaticism. It had become an unshakable creed.
The Lord of Light would triumph.
Through various connections, Zhulte, the High Priest of Braavos, secured an audience with Freygo.
After extensive discussion among the chosen apostles, they had reached a conclusion.
Simply telling governors and nobles the truth would accomplish nothing.
They would never believe it.
Instead...
They would show them.
Only by proving that even the gods themselves wished to destroy House Targaryen could they persuade the rulers of the world to unite.
Freygo held little personal dislike toward the Red Priests—or the fire mages, as some called them.
Coupled with the encouraging news brought by the Faceless Men, he readily agreed to the meeting.
"So you're saying your Lord of Light also intends to eliminate Viserys?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Zhulte replied.
"The Lord of Light has bestowed a remarkable gift upon his followers. If Your Majesty wishes, we can demonstrate it."
"Then show me."
Truthfully, Freygo did not entirely believe that a god intended to intervene against Viserys.
Zhulte bowed slightly.
"The miracle I wish to demonstrate requires the cooperation of people in another part of the world."
"How so?"
"You may imprison me here," Zhulte explained. "Then travel to an inn in Volantis and find the Red Priest staying there.
"Whatever you tell him... I will know as well."
"You mean..." Freygo said slowly, his expression changing, "your Red Priests can communicate with one another even across an entire continent?"
As the ruler of Braavos, he immediately grasped just how terrifying such an ability would be.
Nothing frightened a ruler more than the possibility of different groups within his realm secretly coordinating with one another.
That kind of unseen network could ignite rebellions everywhere at once.
It could even bring down an entire kingdom.
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