Chapter 4: Slaver's Gambit
Ambush on the Road –
Pentos outskirts, dawn The sun was a pale, watery light, barely peeking over the horizon. The air was cool, the dust settled. The road, a winding, rutted path, stretched before them. Adam, Daenerys, and Lyra were walking, a small, silent party. The Dothraki had gone ahead. Adam had insisted on a more… personal approach. A safer one. He felt it on the back of his neck. The prickle of danger. The scent of blood. The sound of a whispered ambush. Slavers. Of course. Viserys's doing. The fool.
"Inner monologue: He's desperate. He's a pathetic, desperate man. He's a cockroach. I'll squash him. I'll make him pay for this. For this ambush. For this attempt on her life. He thinks he can get rid of her? I'll show him what happens when you try to get rid of a queen. I'll make him regret the day he was born. The slavers are just a taste of what's to come. They're just a lesson. A lesson in pain. A lesson in fear."
They came out of the shadows, a group of five, their faces hidden behind masks, their eyes a predatory gleam. They were armed with whips and rusty swords. They were looking for a prize. They were looking for a queen. They had found death.
"Slavers? Big mistake," Adam said, his voice a low, gravelly hum, a promise of violence. He didn't even draw his sword. He reached into his bag and pulled out a Grapeshot bomb. He pulled the pin. He threw it.
GRAPESHOT BOMB USED. STAMINA: 15/100. 200 XP GAINED.
The bomb exploded in a shower of lethal, shrapnel-like steel. Two of the slavers went down, their bodies a bloody, mangled mess. The other three stared, their faces a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. Adam didn't hesitate. He used Igni. A jet of searing flame erupted from his hand, a pillar of fire. It consumed them, their screams a high-pitched shriek of agony.
IGNI SIGN USED. STAMINA: 15/100. Slavers killed: 4/5. 100 XP GAINED.
Daenerys stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. She was safe. She was unharmed. She was… a queen. "You're a fortress," she said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft.
"You'll pay for this!" one of the slavers, his face a bloody, mangled mess, shrieked, his voice a high-pitched wail. Adam's eyes were cold, his face a mask of grim determination. "You already have," he said. He used Igni again, a final, lethal burst of fire. The slaver was a smoking ruin.
QUEST COMPLETED: PROTECT DAENERYS. 100 XP.
Aftermath – Campsite, morning The sun was a pale, watery light, barely peeking over the horizon. The air was cool, the dust settled. Adam and Lyra were sitting by a small fire, a quiet, contemplative duo. Adam was tending to Lyra's wounds, a few nasty cuts from a slaver's rusty sword. He had crafted a Swallow potion, a small, lethal concoction, and had given it to her. Her wounds were already healing, the raw, red skin closing, the pain subsiding.
ALCHEMY LEVEL 3, SWALLOW POTION CRAFTED. 100 GOLD USED. 50 XP GAINED.
"Inner monologue: Viserys is a plague. A disease. A cancer. I'll end him. He's getting more and more desperate. More and more dangerous. He's a walking, talking mistake. I'll make him pay. And I'll make sure everyone knows what he did. What he tried to do. I'll make him an example. A lesson in what happens when you cross a queen and her Witcher. He's a dead man walking."
He heard the sound of Viserys's voice, a high-pitched, whiny protest from the other side of the camp. Adam gave Lyra a small, grim smile. "He's at it again," he said. He focused on Viserys, a subtle mental compulsion. Axii. He made him confess. He made him tell the truth. To his own face.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
Viserys's face contorted, a mask of agony and rage. "I paid them to take her!" he shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "I just wanted my army! My crown!" Daenerys, who had been listening from a distance, came closer, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated contempt. "He's a traitor," she said, her voice a whisper, but with the force of a command. Adam's lips curled into a small, grim smile. "He's a dead man walking," he said.
Dothraki Respect – Campsite, noon The sun was high in the sky, a blazing inferno. The air was thick with dust and the smell of sweat. Adam was sparring with a group of Dothraki warriors. They were fast, ferocious, a whirlwind of steel and muscle. They were also… respectful. They were no longer sneering, no longer mocking. They were looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear. He had earned their respect. He had earned their trust. He had earned their loyalty.
"Inner monologue: They see me as a fighter. A leader. They respect strength. And I am a force of nature. They're my allies now. My soldiers. My army. I'll use them. I'll get her to the Iron Throne. And I'll make sure everyone who stands in our way pays a price. No slaver, no snake, gets near you. That's my promise."
"Fire-walker's a khal," one of the Dothraki warriors said, his voice a low, guttural growl. Adam gave him a small, grim smile. "Just call me trouble," he said, his voice a low hum. He used Quen, a shimmering blue shield, to block a powerful arakh strike. The Dothraki warrior stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: GAIN ALLIES, 100 XP.
Daenerys came closer, her face a mask of quiet contemplation. "I'm safe with you," she said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft. Adam nodded slowly. "And you'll stay that way," he said, his voice a low, firm promise. "No slaver. No snake. Gets near you. That's my vow. My oath. My purpose."
Evening Schemes – Tent, night The night sky was a vast, inky expanse, dotted with a million pinpricks of light. The air was cool, the wind a gentle caress. Adam and Daenerys were sitting in a small, private tent, a map of the world spread between them. They were planning the journey to Qarth. The defenses. The strategy. The purpose. Adam was the one who had a plan. A strategy. A purpose. He was the one who had unlocked Yrden. A trap sign. A subtle, lethal spell.
"Inner monologue: Qarth's next. Viserys won't last long. He's a fool. He's a liability. He's a disease. I'll get rid of him. But I have to be smart. I have to be careful. I can't just kill him. I have to make it look like an accident. A tragic, poetic end. A golden crown. It's a perfect plan. A perfect end to a pathetic man."
"Qarth will test us," Daenerys said, her voice a whisper, her eyes distant.
Adam's lips curled into a small, grim smile. "Tests are my specialty," he said, his voice a low hum. "We'll be ready. We'll be safe."
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from outside. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a pile of mud, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The crowd around them erupted into laughter. Adam grinned. He had used Aard. A simple, telekinetic push.
AARD SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"Who keeps doing this?!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a muffled cry. Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath. The man was a joke. A pathetic, whimpering fool. A walking, talking mistake. Adam was going to end him. And he was going to enjoy it.