Chapter 205: The Widow’s Invitation

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, Dany and Barristan crossed the long bridge and returned to the Fishmonger's Square in the western city.

At this hour, foot traffic in the square had decreased by sixty percent. The fishmongers were no longer shouting, instead lounging in the shade of their stalls, lazily dozing off.

However, the square was not entirely devoid of shouting. In the shaded area outside the Merchant's House, seven or eight round oak tables had been set up, each accompanied by a flag fluttering in the wind.

Behind the tables stood three to five mercenaries with fierce expressions—some sat idly by, drinking, while others shouted at every passing man or boy.

"Hey, that old man, the one with the red cloak playing the guitar—isn't he Denzho, the deputy commander of the Windblown?" Dany lowered the brim of her hood and whispered to Barristan.

The old knight dismounted without a word, casting a sidelong glance at the second table from the east. He recognized the familiar blue-and-white striped swallowtail banner and muttered, "It's the Windblown. Looks like they're recruiting. The other seven tables are also mercenary recruitment points."

"In the name of the Seven, all of them belong to top twenty-ranked large mercenary companies."

"The Cat's Company, led by Bloodbeard, boasts three thousand elite infantry."

"The Long Lances, commanded by 'Cobbler' Gyllo Reyhar, field eight hundred lance cavalry."

"The Stormbreakers, under 'Demon Blade' Kendy, are similar to the former Rose Company—founded by exiled Westerosi nobles during the Blood Dragon Rebellion. They have a mixed force of a thousand cavalry and infantry."

"The Bright Banners, led by 'Two-Headed Demon' Jiggs, number three thousand Unsullied, sworn to defend Qohor. Their reputation in the story of the Second Sons wasn't exactly honorable, but you've seen the strength of the Second Sons yourself—today's Bright Banners are not to be underestimated."

The old knight had no time to introduce every mercenary company in detail, as a servant from the inn quickly approached, taking their horses and asking what services they required.

Finally, a pockmarked youth with a tattoo of double doors on his face informed Dany, "Lady Layla, the Widow by the Water wishes to see you once you return."

"You call her that too?" Dany asked curiously.

"The widow says her old name came from the slave masters, and though her late husband called her by that name all his life, she herself cannot change it—so she can only let it be forgotten by the living," the pockmarked youth explained.

Dany nodded and asked, "What does she want? Is it urgent?"

"I don't know."

As they passed one of the round tables, a pig-faced, brown-skinned mercenary gave Barristan a once-over, then reached out and tugged at the edge of his cloak. Grinning, he called out, "Hey, old man! You're big and strong, with a longsword at your waist—an old knight, are you? How about joining our Iron Shields and marching to Slaver's Bay to deal with the Dragon Queen?"

"I am no hedge knight."

Barristan's icy gaze nearly froze the mercenary's heart. His grip loosened immediately, letting the old knight pass.

Only after Dany and Barristan crossed the threshold into the Merchant's House did the mercenary curse under his breath to vent his frustration.

"When did the mercenary companies arrive?" Dany asked the pockmarked youth.

"In the past two months. Every day after lunch, they come to the Fishmonger's Square to recruit."

"The Windblown were nearly wiped out by the Dragon Queen, so it's no surprise they're in Volantis looking for new members," Barristan said, frowning. "But are the other mercenary companies also short on men?"

"They're all hiring to join the Eastern Expedition to Slaver's Bay," the youth said with a worried sigh. "For the Alliance, the more, the better.

"Almost every mercenary company has expanded their forces by one or two times their original numbers—after all, the United Council is providing all logistics support.

"But that woman isn't an easy foe. When the war is over, win or lose, I reckon most mercenary companies will be crippled. Just look at what happened to the Windblown, the Second Sons, and the Stormcrows."

"If they know what happened to the Stormcrows and the Second Sons, why are these companies still daring to provoke the Dragon Queen? Are they not afraid of being wiped out?" Dany sneered.

"For mercenaries, there's only one thing in the world that truly scares them," the pockmarked youth shrugged. "An empty purse."

By the afternoon, the hall was much emptier. Most of the round tables were unoccupied, and the loud merchants who had been shouting to buy and sell goods had disappeared.

Passing through the front hall, the pockmarked youth led the two of them into the courtyard, where a vacant wine table stood beneath a grapevine trellis. After settling them in, he gestured toward a blonde slave girl standing in the northwest corner of the colonnade. The two exchanged a few words before the youth turned back, bowed to Dany, and departed.

The blonde girl then approached Dany, carrying a plate of golden-fried locusts.

Setting the plate on the table, she spoke in Valyrian with a Lysene accent. "Honored priestess, may I ask you to wait here for a moment? The Widow is currently receiving a guest from Westeros—you will be seen next."

"What? We're not next?"

A displeased voice erupted from across the grape trellis. A tall, handsome young man with golden hair slammed his palm against the table in protest.

Dany turned her head and immediately recognized him—it was someone she had met before.

It was the same two young men she had entered the city with from the eastern docks yesterday evening. They had gotten separated while crossing the long bridge, but she hadn't expected them to be staying at the Merchant's House as well.

Besides the golden-haired man and his dark-haired, honest-looking companion, there was also a hulking brute—a man nearly identical in build to Belwas.

With broad shoulders, a round belly, tree-trunk-like legs, and hands as thick as hams, the bald man's head gleamed like a smooth, pink stone.

"It's you?!"

Upon seeing Dany's face, the tall, golden-haired youth was momentarily dazzled, but he quickly regained his composure and recognized her. With a graceful bow, he smiled and said, "Hello, my lady. We've met before—do you remember?

"Yesterday evening, we entered the city from the dock district together. On the way, we even discussed the Dragon Queen with a nobleman riding an elephant."

Oh my, I must say, you shine as brightly as the Nymeria Star in the sky. If that woman were even a tenth as beautiful as you, our—"

"Ahem, ahem." The dark-haired, honest-looking young man tugged at his companion's pant leg a few times and let out a few light coughs.

"Oh, my apologies. That was rude of me." The handsome young man gave a gentle smile, then turned to the Lysene slave girl and asked, "We can accept letting this beautiful lady cut in line, but at least give us a reason?"

"You have come bearing gifts to see the Widow, and the Widow wishes to see Priestess Leila. Is that reason enough?"

"Uh..."

The blond youth was momentarily stunned, quickly understanding the meaning behind the slave girl's words. Then, he smiled again and looked at Dany. "So, your name is Leila, and you're a priestess."

Dany discreetly glanced at Barristan, who had his face hidden beneath his hood. She guessed he had already figured out that these three came from Westeros.

"Are you Dornish?" she asked, her voice muffled as she bit into a fried locust coated in fine flour.

In this strange world, apart from the moon, the most striking celestial body at night was a bright white star in the northwest. When Dany had nothing to do in the evenings, she would gaze at the stars and the moon, once even suspecting that this star was a distant sun from the Trisolarian system.

Just like the Chinese astronomers of ancient times who referred to the western White Tiger constellation as "Shen," the Greeks had classified it under Orion's Belt.

This world was no different. The races and cultures varied, and so did the names they gave to that white star.

Jhiqui called it the "Handmaiden's Star."

To her, the sun was the Great Stallion, the moon was his wife, and the white star was the servant of the Khaleesi—just like Jhiqui herself.

The Andals, on the other hand, chose the seven brightest stars in the sky (besides the moon) and named them after their Seven Gods. The white star was called the "Crone's Star," guiding lost souls through the night.

Dorne, being most influenced by Rhoynar culture, named it the "Nymeria Star," with its milky-white tail symbolizing the ten thousand ships Nymeria led across the sea.

"I am the son of a Dornish wine merchant," the dark-haired, steady young man finally explained to Dany after glancing at the slave girl. "Ghiscar wine is known to be the worst in the world. Our fine Dornish wines, however, might fetch a good price in Astapor."

"Smart thinking." Dany nodded, picking up another plump locust and popping it into her mouth. In a low voice, she told the White Knight beside her, "Try it—it tastes like chicken, but crispier and more flavorful."

The slave girl held back for a moment but finally spoke. "Times have changed, dragon. That woman has brewed an exquisite spirit so fine that even Volantene merchants are sneaking off to buy it!"

"Oh? Then we definitely need to have a look." The blond youth grinned.

"Suit yourself," the slave girl said, tilting her head toward the northwest corner. "You're up next. Remember, have your gift ready."

Hearing this, Dany and Barristan stood up. They saw a maid in the corridor beckoning to the Lysene slave, signaling that it was time to meet the Widow.

"Do we need to prepare a gift too?" Dany asked, pulling out a silk scarf to wipe the grease from her lips.

The slave girl thought for a moment before answering, "Most people who visit the Widow do so because they need something from her. However, she isn't interested in her guests' money. Many of the gifts people bring aren't even worth ten copper coins."

"Hmm, I see." Dany nodded thoughtfully. The gift was more of a gesture of respect for the Widow on the Waters. That former bed slave had inherited her late husband's wealth—she had more money than she could ever spend. What she truly lacked was respect.

With that in mind, Dany quietly removed the cat's-eye gemstone bracelet from her left wrist.

"Ah—!"

Before she could take more than a few steps down the corridor, a sharp, high-pitched scream came from the west corner of the hall, followed by a burst of laughter from drunken patrons.

"Shorty, get her!"

"Wow, a dwarf fight!" A sailor whistled and clapped his hands.

As they entered the hall, Dany peered through the gaps in the crowd and was stunned by the sight before her. The floor was littered with overturned cups and plates, and in the midst of the chaos, Tyrion, covered in grease and grime, was wrestling furiously with another dwarf.

It was a female dwarf, dressed as a man. Ale had soaked through her gray clothes, revealing the faint outline of a small breast, while the other was fully exposed—thanks to Tyrion's tight grip on her tunic.

"Enough!"

A towering middle-aged man—likely the owner or the tavern manager—stormed out from behind the counter, wielding a club.

He struck both of their heads a few times before grabbing the small demon and lifting him into the air. Tyrion, choking as his collar dug into his throat, turned red-faced and kicked his legs in a frantic struggle.

Tyrion's companion, the maester-like Halden, rushed over and shouted, "Put him down! Are you trying to kill him?"

As soon as the Volantene man let go of the little demon, the female dwarf rolled up from the floor like a crazed she-calf, ramming her head into Tyrion's chest and sending him crashing into a table. Bowls and plates clattered to the ground, and the poor imp, his golden hair now soaked in soup, groaned in pain.

But she wasn't done.

With a fierce cry, the female dwarf scrambled up and straddled his chest, her fists raining down on his face, brow, and forehead.

She beat him until his lips split, his eyes swelled, and his already ugly, noseless face became even more grotesquely deformed.

(End of chapter)

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