Chapter 123: The Mercenary Company

Less than half an hour after the three commanders of the Raven Company departed, the eunuch Beworth returned from the opposite camp, bringing along three men and one woman. The men had rugged appearances, with shoulder-length, curly black hair, towering physiques clad in gray-black plate armor over brown leather, and thick beards covering their faces—all looking like formidable warriors.

However, their similar attire and features made it hard for Daenerys to distinguish one from the other.

It was the woman who caught Daenerys's attention. She had a high-bridged nose, strikingly defined features, and a beauty tempered with a bold, martial aura. Standing around 1.75 meters tall, her imposing presence was undeniable. Her long, strong limbs and powerful legs were accentuated by tight leather armor, and her fiery red hair gleamed like flames under the torchlight.

Unlike the casual attire of the Raven Company, each of the four bore a blue rose emblem, about the size of a palm, on their chest.

"Are all four of you commanders of the Rose Mercenary Company? Equal in rank?" Daenerys frowned.

Convincing one person to surrender was undoubtedly easier than persuading multiple leaders. Often, even if one or two were inclined to agree, they might hesitate in front of their peers.

"I'm the commander; they are captains. They just wanted to see the dragon," said the man in the middle, who had a centipede-like scar on his brow. His gaze kept shifting to the unsheathed sword resting on Daenerys's knee, his frown deepening with each glance.

Daenerys nodded. "Hello, I'm Daenerys Targaryen. However, the dragon isn't here, so I'm afraid you won't see it tonight."

"That's unfortunate. I'm Jon Snow, commander of the Rose Mercenary Company."

"What?" Daenerys couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

Jon Snow? Here?

She scrutinized him. Indeed, he had black hair and a full beard, much like in the show, hardly resembling a 15-year-old boy.

Yes, Jon Snow was about the same age as Daenerys, possibly even born in the same month.

Surprisingly, the four showed no reaction to her outburst.

"Your Grace, you heard correctly. I am a Snow. My ancestors hailed from the North of Westeros, and we've maintained Northern customs," the bearded commander nodded, his expression complex.

Oh, right. The surname Snow marked him as a Northern bastard.

A familiar face in a foreign land.

Daenerys quickly masked her slip with a feigned, nostalgic "Oh," as if merely surprised to meet a fellow Westerosi so far from home.

In the North, there were plenty of Snows, and "Jon" was as common as "Brandon" in House Stark. Robb, for instance, had two subordinates named Big Jon and Little Jon.

Besides the main characters, there were probably dozens of Jon Snows in the North.

"Not just me. All four of us have Northern blood," the red-haired woman chimed in with a smile. "I'm Lyla Umber. Greetings, Mother of Dragons."

"I'm Bruce Wayne. Greetings, Mother of Dragons."

"I'm Hermantor."

The other two introduced themselves in turn.

After meeting a Jon Snow, even someone named Batman couldn't faze Daenerys anymore.

"Your Grace, the Rose Company was founded during the time of Aegon the Conqueror. Witnessing the might of dragons and Aegon's formidable army, King Torrhen Stark of the North chose to surrender his crown without a fight.

However, many Northerners disagreed with Torrhen's decision and exiled themselves. These Northerners, who settled across the Narrow Sea, formed a mercenary company serving various city-states, which eventually became the 'Rose Company.' Their emblem is the Northern flower, the blue winter rose," Ser Barristan explained slowly.

Torrhen Stark's decision was wise. The other five kingdoms had already surrendered, and Aegon, with the combined forces of the realm and three dragons, vastly outmatched the North. There was no chance of victory. Yet, because he was the only king to surrender without a fight, history dubbed him "The King Who Knelt." In the context of ancient China, he'd be titled something like "Duke of Submission."

No wonder some hard-headed Northerners chose exile.

"Is this... the legendary 'Barristan the Bold'?" Commander Jon scrutinized the white-bearded knight beside Daenerys, astonished. "What are you doing here?"

"Indeed, it is I. I am here to protect the true dragon," the old knight replied proudly with a slight nod.

Jon Snow's expression shifted again, while his companions whispered among themselves.

"Sigh, your ancestors refused to kneel to Aegon. It seems today's negotiations won't fare much better," Daenerys remarked.

Lyla's eyes gleamed as she set down her cup with a laugh. "Why serve wine without meat? I'm still hungry!"

"During wartime, I do not offer food or salt to those outside my allies," Daenerys replied firmly.

"I see. Placing your unsheathed sword on your knee is your way of refusing guest rights," Jon mused.

"Oh, you haven't forgotten your roots," Daenerys replied.

"But what does it matter? Others might not understand your gesture," Lyla said curiously.

"Etiquette and tradition are not chains to bind others. I study them to discipline myself and guide my own actions," Daenerys said calmly.

Her words left Barristan, Jon Snow, Lyla, and the others visibly moved.

"Your Grace, we're deeply sorry. We cannot break our contracts. As you said, understanding tradition means we must uphold it, regardless of what others do," Jon eventually replied, his tone softer and more respectful than before, even changing his form of address.

Noticing the regret on the faces of the other three, Daenerys pondered for a moment before speaking, "This afternoon, I promised the 'Ghiscari Alliance' that I would not attack your camp tonight. So, at least for tonight, we are not enemies. Considering our shared Westerosi heritage, I will send you..."

"How many are in the Rose Company?" she asked Beworth.

"Three hundred cavalry, five hundred infantry."

"Send Commander Jon 160 barrels of 'Wall Red,' so all our Northern kin can drink their fill," she declared generously.

"Wall Red" was, of course, a name concocted on the spot, referencing the famous Wall of the North.

In truth, it should be called "Three Bowls and You're Down."

The barrels, each five liters and filled with high-proof distilled liquor mixed with sweet grape juice, would be more than enough to ensure that 800 foreign mercenaries, unaccustomed to such strong spirits, would sleep well past dawn.

"Great Wall Red Wine?" The red-haired Lyra was momentarily stunned before bursting into hearty laughter. "We have the blood of our ancestors—whether man or woman, our alcohol tolerance is legendary! I fear 160 barrels won't be enough!"

"No problem. We'll add another 80 barrels. Hopefully, that will satisfy you."

After the four members of the Rose Company left, Barristan asked in confusion, "Weren't you planning to send the wine to the Ghiscari?"

"Don't worry. We have more than enough."

About an hour later, the plump eunuch led the leader of the Second Sons into the wooden palace.

This time, it was just one man.

Mero, commander of the Second Sons, was a towering Braavosi. He had given himself the nickname "Titan's Bastard." His eyes were a pale green, and he had a long, thick red-gold beard.

It was even longer than Dany's braids, nearly reaching his waist.

The Braavosi, with his beard practically growing from his lips, was arrogant. He sat down without a word, grabbed the wine on the wooden table before him, drained it in one gulp, belched disgustingly, then leered at Dany.

"The Silver Queen? Heh, I remember having a good time with your countrywoman in a brothel back home. Or was that you? Take off that helmet and let me see. Silver-gold hair, violet eyes, full-bodied… Damn. Even under all that armor, you're not as big as her. My mistake. Apologies." He smirked, then laughed crudely. "But we could always find out now, hahahaha."

Inside the wooden tent, Barristan, Belwas, the Unsullied guards, and even the Dothraki handmaidens all wore expressions of barely restrained fury. They looked ready to charge forward and hack the "Titan's Bastard" into pieces.

Dany, however, remained calm. She smiled faintly. "Am I mistaken?"

"Huh? What?" Mero was caught off guard by her reaction.

"In the tale of the Three Thousand Defenders of Qohor, wasn't it your Second Sons who wisely fled the battlefield? And now you're acting like a fool?" Dany's voice turned cold.

"Hmph! That was ages ago! Now, the Second Sons follow me—the Titan's Bastard!" Mero roared.

"So, does that mean you're prepared to lead your 500 men to fight to the death against my 100,000-strong army?"

Well, as someone from the Celestial Empire, how could she not uphold the traditions of her ancestors?

When Cao Cao fought at Red Cliffs, he boldly declared his army to be 800,000 strong, even when he only had 70,000. Dany hadn't even claimed 200,000 troops—she was already being modest.

Hearing her veiled threat, the bearded giant merely laughed.

"Little girl, are you trying to recruit me?" He waved at Dany, who sat high on her wooden throne, then patted his thick thigh. Leering, he sneered, "Take off that bothersome armor and sit on my lap. Please me, and maybe I'll consider bringing the Second Sons over."

"I'll castrate you," Dany said coldly.

"White Banner Commander," Dany called out.

"Here!" Grey Worm stepped forward and knelt on one knee.

The Unsullied bore a white banner with faint gray lines forming the shape of a dragon—a symbol of their purity and loyalty as the Dragon Queen's soldiers.

They had every right to wield pure white, for they did not pillage, did not violate, and were the most disciplined army in the world.

A quick note— in the world of Ice and Fire, a white flag did not symbolize surrender. Instead, striped and multicolored flags were used for peaceful negotiations. Even a defeated army could raise a colorful banner to signal surrender.

Hmm… that would be inconvenient for the people of this world. They couldn't just wave their underwear in desperate moments! After all, white underwear was more hygienic, cheaper, and more common.

But who the hell wore striped, multicolored underwear?

"Grey Worm, before the attack tomorrow afternoon, spread this order throughout the army." Dany pointed at the bearded Braavosi, her voice as cold as a winter spring. "Regardless of whether they are friend or foe—any soldier who kills a man with a beard longer than my braid will be made a lord and rewarded with ten thousand gold."

"Yes!" Grey Worm hesitated for only a fraction of a second before responding expressionlessly.

"Hiss—" The Titan's Bastard sucked in a sharp breath. His vulgar smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a look of grave concern.

"T-There are many men with long beards in this camp…" He forced a laugh.

"Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one slip away," Dany's voice was laced with murderous intent. "I am a queen. I have both wealth and titles to spare."

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09