The dark prison echoed with the clatter of chains.
As footsteps approached, Modro heard news even better than being released.
"His Majesty has agreed to see you."
At those words, the battered man—his body covered in crisscrossing wounds and dried blood—curved his lips into a smile.
It was the smile of someone whose scheme had succeeded.
The soldiers escorted Modro from his cell toward the Dragon Palace within the Walls of Balerion.
The Walls of Balerion were towering and formidable, yet he found nothing about them worth admiring.
After witnessing the magnificent temple in the realm of the Lord of Light, every structure in the mortal world seemed no more impressive than a peasant's hut.
Once they passed through the walls, however, Modro faintly heard the cries of dragons.
Over the past weeks, he and his companions had uncovered nearly everything about Gohor's military strength.
The only thing they had failed to see was the dragons themselves.
Not even a single scale.
Although dragons only a few months old could not possibly have grown very large...
They had been born together with Viserys in the flames, a miracle unlike any other.
To deliver the most accurate intelligence possible, Modro had already prepared himself to die beneath dragonfire.
'I need to provoke Viserys.'
'If I can distract him, perhaps I can buy the Dragon-Slaying Alliance a little more time.'
'Or perhaps...'
'I can demonstrate the miracle of the Lord of Light. If his ministers witness it, they'll lose faith in him.'
With that thought, Modro was escorted into one of the palace gardens.
He looked around eagerly, hoping to spot the dragons. Instead, he heard cheerful laughter in the distance.
"What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll gouge your eyes out!"
The Targaryen soldier escorting him barked the threat.
In truth, the man was hiding his own unease.
These spies were unnerving.
Not one of them had been willing to talk.
Their attitude toward death wasn't courage. Nor was it indifference. It was something closer to longing.
It was inhuman.
People who no longer feared death unsettled everyone.
None of the soldiers wanted anything to do with them.
Modro, however, was completely unfazed.
"You can take my eyes," he said with a smile. "But while you're at it, carve out my heart as well."
"I'd like to offer it to the Lord of Light."
The expression on his face made the soldier's scalp tingle.
"Still talking tough? Move!" The soldier shoved him forward.
Moments later, Modro stood before Viserys. The young silver-haired king sat comfortably upon a broad chair.
Behind him stood the tall, imposing Ser Arthur.
To his left and right stood the Hand, Clinton, and Davos.
Modro had investigated both men thoroughly. He knew exactly who they were.
He had seen Viserys before as well, though only from a distance.
Never this close.
Close enough to distinguish the loose strands of silver hair falling across the king's forehead.
"Kneel!" one of the guards shouted.
"I kneel only before the Lord of Light." Modro stared directly at Viserys.
Arthur gave a slight signal.
The guards immediately kicked the back of Modro's knees and forced him down by his shoulders.
Though kneeling before the king, there wasn't the slightest hint of submission on his face.
If Viserys merely wanted to harvest his memories, it would have been easy.
He could have taken the man to the archery range and shot him with a single arrow.
But these Red Priests' willingness to embrace death had already shaken many of his soldiers and ministers.
Viserys intended to conceal the existence of the Lord of Light for the time being.
Still...
There was clearly something wrong with these priests.
Sooner or later, others would notice.
If the Lord of Light refused to reveal himself personally...
Then Viserys would make sure everyone saw his followers as fanatics and fools.
Destroying a man's spirit was often more effective than killing him.
"So," Viserys said calmly. "What exactly is your objective?"
"Our objective?"
Modro laughed.
"To carry out the will of the Lord of Light. To exterminate the last Targaryen in this world, Your Majesty."
For a brief instant, even Viserys's fingers, which had been tapping lightly on the armrest, froze.
The young king almost wondered if he had misheard.
This man truly wanted to die.
Viserys suddenly became very curious. Why was he so utterly fearless?
"How dare you!"
Even Arthur, commander of the royal guard, was momentarily stunned. Recovering instantly, he drew his sword.
The palace guards clad in Valyrian steel armor stepped forward in fury.
One command was all it would take.
The Red Priest's head would fall.
"Seriously... Who exactly gave you this confidence?" Viserys's initial contempt quickly gave way to calm vigilance.
Modro's eyes, meanwhile, burned with madness.
"Hahaha!
You still don't understand! House Targaryen has already been cursed by the gods!
You'll all perish!
Come on! If you still dare call yourself the Dragon King... Burn me alive with dragonfire!
Hahahahaha!"
His laughter echoed through the garden.
Because of his albinism, even his pupils were a reddish brown. At that moment, they looked almost blood-red.
Clinton and Davos exchanged uneasy glances.
Arthur's expression turned grave.
Never before had they encountered someone so completely insane.
"The Lord of Light's judgment is coming! You'd better abandon this land that was never yours!
If you leave House Targaryen now, perhaps the Lord of Light will still spare you!
Remain loyal to them... And there's only death waiting for you!"
He all but had the words Burn me with dragonfire written across his face.
Arthur, Davos, and the others looked at him with the same disgust one might reserve for discovering ants in their bed.
They weren't afraid.
Just deeply uncomfortable.
Viserys simply followed the conversation where Modro wanted it to go.
"Look at yourself.
You think this performance will provoke me?
You keep talking about the Lord of Light... Have you ever actually seen him?
I have.
Back on Mother of Mountains, I even kicked him in the backside with my boot.
If you answer properly, I might even reward you with a mouthful of dragonfire."
The calmness of Viserys's response completely caught Modro off guard.
Instead of provoking the king...
He suddenly felt like a clown.
Realizing it, a surge of fury ignited inside him.
"You're lying!"
"You've been abandoned by the gods! The Lord of Light will burn you for ten thousand years!"
He continued shouting and hurling insults. But Viserys remained completely unmoved.
"So, you wanted to see my dragons.
Tell me why you were investigating my army? Who's planning to attack Gohor?
Answer honestly, and I'll grant you a quick death."
His voice remained calm, tinged only with faint disgust.
Compared to him, Modro looked more and more like a raving lunatic.
Even Clinton and Arthur had stopped taking him seriously. Now they simply wanted him executed.
After all, every faith had its share of fanatics.
But Modro wasn't finished.
This time he ignored Viserys altogether. Instead, he turned toward Arthur, Clinton, and the others.
"I know you don't believe me."
His expression settled.
For a moment, he seemed perfectly sane.
"Give me only half a quarter-hour. The wounds on my body will heal completely.
That is the power of the Lord of Light.
If you're willing to abandon House Targaryen... You can still receive his forgiveness."
His plan was obvious.
Drive a wedge into the Targaryen court.
If Viserys refused... Seeds of doubt would remain in the hearts of his followers.
If he agreed... The miracle itself might shatter their loyalty.
After all...
Who would willingly oppose a god?
Viserys had indeed met the Lord of Light. He also suspected Modro really could heal within half a quarter-hour.
But...
This was his palace.
There was no way he'd let an outsider steal the spotlight here.
He smiled and nodded. "I believe you. I believe you can."
"I knew it, you abandoned by the—"
Modro suddenly stopped. He tilted his head, "What... did you say?"
"I said I believe you."
Viserys nodded again with complete sincerity.
Modro suddenly realized everything was spiraling out of his control. "N-No... You're not supposed to believe me."
"Oh? I do."
Now Modro was completely bewildered. What kind of person reacted like this?
He glanced toward Arthur, Clinton, and the others.
They were looking at him as though he were an idiot. Even the Targaryen soldiers wore mocking smiles.
At that moment, a dark shadow swept overhead.
Every soldier instinctively looked up. The black dragon Balerion had arrived unnoticed.
It circled twice above the garden before landing behind Modro.
He immediately realized what was happening. Viserys was finally going to burn him.
Yet he had failed to provoke the king.
Failed to divide his followers.
"I really can heal my wounds in half a quarter-hour! You have to believe me!"
"Yes."
"I believe you."
Viserys wore a satisfied smile.
"No! No! No!"
"You... Viserys! You can't believe me!" This time Modro completely lost control.
Beside him, Clinton couldn't help feeling embarrassed. He never should have brought this lunatic before the king.
But somehow...
He had been compelled to report the matter.
Leaning back in his chair, Viserys released a trace of killing intent.
Balerion sensed it immediately. The black hatchling walked forward until it stood directly before Modro.
Golden eyes locked onto the prisoner.
°Dracarys°
The young dragon inhaled deeply. Then black flames burst from its jaws.
"No!"
"No!"
"No—!"
Panicking because his mission had failed, Modro screamed in terror.
To everyone watching...
The fearless fanatic had completely fallen apart.
The image of fearless devotion he had carefully cultivated shattered in an instant.
But then something unexpected happened. The dragonfire deliberately missed him.
The flames skimmed past his scalp.
Everyone stared in confusion.
Only then did Viserys speak. "The Dragon Palace is my home. I don't kill people inside my own home."
"Viserys—!"
Realizing he had been toyed with yet again, Modro nearly went mad with rage.
Bang!
One of the guards smashed a fist directly into his mouth.
Teeth scattered across the ground together with blood.
'Whatever this Dragon-Slaying Alliance is... I'll have my answer soon enough,' Viserys thought as he watched Modro being dragged away.
"Execute every one of them."
"At once."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Clinton replied immediately.
At that moment, Viserys felt the familiar response from his gift.
[Essence acquired: Fire Mage]
A sorcerer... a mage... a wizard... Looks like this man held quite a high rank among the Red Priests.
As Viserys absorbed the [Fire Mage Essence], Modro's memories rapidly unfolded before him.
"He has silver hair too."
"Aren't all silver-haired people supposed to be Valyrians?"
"Valyrian? Him? He's a monster."
"Look at his eyes. They're red. Even his eyebrows are white."
"Monster!"
"Stay away from us!"
The memories of Modro's childhood discrimination didn't surprise Viserys.
Soon the memories reached the turning point of his life.
The earthquake.
The one who had saved Modro...
Was Benerro.
Within the Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis, Benerro had discovered the boy's remarkable affinity for fire magic and personally trained him.
As an agent raised from childhood by Benerro's own hand, Modro's feelings toward him were complicated.
He was his teacher.
His father.
His master.
Then came the ambush on the Long Bridge.
Moments later, Viserys witnessed the memory of Modro being drawn into that mysterious realm.
"...They can do that too?"
___________
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