Chapter 55: The Handwritten Letter
Yet Viserys did not hurry to speak as he sat on the cold throne.
The boy's crown, adorned with ruby flames, reflected a faint shimmer of light. His pale lilac eyes continued to observe the two people standing below.
A subtle silence permeated the great hall.
The Dragonstone guards on both sides tightly gripped their spears, their gazes locked on the two individuals in the middle of the hall claiming to be emissaries from Braavos. At Viserys' command, they would rush forward and capture them on the spot.
In their eyes, emissaries should be dressed in splendid attire, not like the two before them.
One wore a simple, dull grayish-brown robe, while the other was dressed like an assassin in black, complete with a cloak, and a thin, small "lady's longsword" at the waist – a toy of sorts.
Such unique weaponry was considered impractical by the soldiers of Westeros.
At the center of the great hall,
The two individuals, scrutinized by all, remained calm. The emissary in the grayish-brown robe appeared composed, his eyes still fixed on Viserys, while the warrior behind him kept one hand on the hilt of his sword.
The atmosphere in the hall thickened.
Viserys did not speak; he was observing the pair, gauging their identity, hoping to detect any inconsistencies.
However, it wasn't long before the emissary from Braavos broke first. He couldn't understand why he felt such pressure while staring at the exiled king who had lost the Iron Throne – a mere eight-year-old boy.
"Your Grace."
The middle-aged man in the grayish-brown robe couldn't help but bow again slightly, taking the initiative to speak.
"We come from Braavos, under the orders of the Sea Lord himself to visit Your Grace and deliver a handwritten letter from the Sea Lord."
The accent and word choice of the Braavosi emissary were slightly peculiar, making it difficult for the audience to understand.
But Viserys remained unruffled, his eyes piercing the man.
"A handwritten letter?"
Hearing that the emissary was delivering a letter from the Sea Lord of Braavos, Viserys finally began to believe their identity. Still, he would have to read the letter before making a final judgment.
However, he had more to say before examining the handwritten letter.
Viserys sat on the throne, one hand caressing the cold armrest, leaning forward to adjust his posture. The crown atop his head shone in the sunlight as he spoke.
"You may speak in Valyrian directly."
"I understand."
He knew that although Braavos was not a Free City of Valyria, it was a city-state founded by refugees fleeing Valyrian slavery about five hundred years before Aegon's Landing. Thus, their mother tongue was Valyrian as well.
As the heir to House Targaryen, Viserys was, of course, well-versed in Valyrian. There was no need for the two "old acquaintances" to speak the Common Tongue of Westeros.
Furthermore, the Braavosi emissary's Common Tongue was quite awkward, making it uncomfortable for Viserys to listen to.
"My apologies, Your Grace. I have been rude."
Upon hearing Viserys speak fluent Valyrian, the emissary from Braavos was both surprised and delighted.
Thrilled that he no longer needed to speak in the obscure Westerosi Common Tongue.
Yet alarmed as he didn't know if Viserys had heard him when he quietly complained to the swordsman beside him.
Otherwise, there was a high chance of being executed, and even if word got back to the Sea King, it would be his own fault.
He thought that the Targaryen family, having conquered Westeros nearly three centuries ago, had long abandoned the Valyrian language in favor of the Westerosi Common Tongue. After all, even Aegon the Conqueror converted to the Faith of the Seven after the conquest.
However, the truth was that this envoy had never met any Targaryen family members and was rather uninformed. The Targaryens had not given up the Valyrian language.
But Viserys hadn't actually heard him mutter something just now, as the throne was so far from the ground, and his ears weren't exactly keen.
The boy watched as the two envoys continued to speak.
"Tell me your names," he said.
Upon hearing Viserys' words, the lead envoy in a gray-brown robe straightened up slightly and bowed again.
"Your Grace, my name is Cleon Mysna. I am a magistrate of Braavos."
The magistrate was mainly responsible for conveying the Sea King's orders and managing the city of Braavos, essentially serving as the Sea King's assistant in governance.
Cleon then turned to introduce the swordsman beside him.
"His name is Syrio Forel. He is the Sea King's personal guard and serves as the First Sword of Braavos."
The black-robed swordsman standing behind Cleon also bowed slightly when introduced and spoke for the first time.
"Your Grace."
Viserys felt a faint sense of familiarity when he heard the name of the swordsman in black.
"Syrio Forel?"
He had a feeling he had heard the name somewhere but couldn't recall it at the moment.
Ser Joffrey, sitting next to him, thought Viserys might not know what the position of First Sword entailed and whispered an explanation in his ear.
"Your Grace, I've heard of this man."
"Syrio Forel, as the First Sword of Braavos, is considered the finest swordsman in Braavos at present."
"These people... they possess extraordinary insight, and their primary duty is to protect the Sea King's safety."
Viserys nodded slightly after hearing this, although he didn't need the old knight to remind him. He seemed to remember who this person was.
At that moment,
Cleon reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, holding it respectfully with both hands. He then spoke again.
"This is a personal letter from the Sea King to Your Grace."
A guard standing to one side of the hall approached and took the letter from the envoy. After inspecting it for poison or tampering, he brought it to the throne and handed it to Viserys.
Viserys took the Sea King of Braavos' personal letter from the guard's hand.
He was curious about what the Sea King, who had never meddled in his affairs, wanted to discuss with him.
With a rustle,
The boy tore open the letter in his hand. .