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[Would you like to spend 50,000 trait points to upgrade Gluttonous (Blue)?]
(Warning: Traits of Purple quality and above will interact with this world and may cause unpredictable changes!)
Hmm…
Staring at the message before him, Jacaerys fell into deep thought.
In today's siege of Tyrosh, he had harvested a total of 49,270 points. At first glance, it seemed to correspond to about five thousand lives.
But in truth, just the northern district alone, consumed by the black-and-grey dragonflame, had seen nearly thirty thousand deaths.
Adding in the fallen Tyroshi garrison, a third of the eastern district, and several merchant ships that had just recently been reduced to ashes, even a conservative estimate placed the casualties between forty and fifty thousand.
Forty to fifty thousand souls!
That was already the total population of a mid-sized territory in Westeros.
The points he had gained today, when combined with the 3,150 collected from incinerating several small towns in recent days, as well as the 16,092 points he had saved up, brought his current total to a staggering 68,512.
When the word "Upgradeable" appeared next to the Gluttonous trait, Jacaerys moved to select the option without hesitation.
What he had not expected was the sudden appearance of a warning that required additional confirmation.
After a careful and deliberate consideration, he ultimately chose no.
It wasn't the warning that gave him pause. The trait panel had long since become the cornerstone of his survival and rise in the brutal world of A Song of Ice and Fire.
Even if the sky were to fall, he would continue to pursue stronger, higher-grade traits.
The reason he temporarily decided to hold off was simple.
Following the brutal storming of the city by his army, there were still around one hundred thousand prisoners remaining in Tyrosh.
With such an immense number, he could easily expect to harvest at least another several tens of thousands of points.
His decision was driven by two considerations.
First, he wanted to see whether crossing the threshold of one hundred thousand points would trigger any kind of transformation in the system—some qualitative change in the trait panel.
Second, since the system warning mentioned that higher-tier traits could produce unknown changes, he figured it would be best to be prepared.
Having more points on hand would give him greater room to maneuver in the face of whatever came next.
And since the system rewarded provoked hostility and death, he had to act in a way that maximized both.
Just like the burning of the northern district, he needed to stand high enough for the world to see what he was capable of—to witness the depth of his wrath.
At last, Jacaerys' gaze locked onto a towering structure within the port district—a grand tower built entirely from red stone.
The Bleeding Tower—one of Tyrosh's most iconic landmarks.
On ordinary days, it functioned as a colossal lighthouse, guiding ships into port. But during Archon elections, it became the ceremonial stage from which the victor would take the oath of office.
The plaza surrounding the tower, as well as the empty docks nearby, could easily accommodate tens of thousands of prisoners.
However, night had already fallen, and both sides had been through a grueling battle. Rest was necessary.
Thus, Jacaerys postponed the harvest until the next day.
As for the post-battle arrangements, he delegated them.
The first was to Coleman, who was tasked with managing the majority of the captives and preparing them for tomorrow's harvest.
The second was Stone, who led a smaller unit of prisoners in a search for spoils, collecting and loading them onto ships.
With the luxurious estates of the northern district now reduced to rubble, Jacaerys found a random large residence in the southern district to occupy for the time being.
He had no intention of staying long in Tyrosh, so he was not particular about comfort or aesthetics.
That said, he was not the least bit careless when it came to his own security.
Rudy, along with the remaining six hundred thirty-eight Unsullied under his command, surrounded the building in a tight formation. No one was permitted entry.
Even the command whip Rudy used had been temporarily handed over to Jacaerys himself.
This meant that not even Rudy, or a Faceless Man wearing his face, could approach without permission.
Vermax, meanwhile, lay silently on the roof of the neighboring house, his pair of cold, slit-like eyes fixated on the room where Jacaerys resided.
Lying on the large bed draped with fresh, clean bedding, Jacaerys' mind swam with scattered thoughts.
Some were guesses and theories about the warning on the trait panel, while others concerned how he might harvest more points tomorrow.
Having spent the entire day focused intensely on controlling his dragon, he was thoroughly exhausted.
Before he realized it, sleep overtook him.
---
Rustling and murmurs filled the air.
A great number of Tyroshi prisoners were working through the night near the Bleeding Tower, unknowingly preparing for their own funeral.
Coleman, along with more than a thousand soldiers from Bloodstone, stood idly nearby, watching the captives with vague disinterest.
The task he'd been assigned demanded heavy manpower but was simple in execution.
First, clear out a large enough area.
Second, transport and stack a sufficient quantity of flame-resistant materials to construct a firebreak around the tower.
It wasn't the first time Coleman had carried out such work. By now, he handled these operations with practiced ease.
Everything had been arranged in a smooth and orderly fashion.
He let out a long yawn.
Watching his commander stifle another yawn, one of Coleman's trusted subordinates sidled up to him with a flattering smile.
"My lord Coleman, you've worked so hard today. Why not let me handle the rest?"
"Hmm? You'll take over?"
Coleman narrowed his eyes and considered the offer briefly, but ultimately shook his head.
"No. This task was assigned personally by His Grace."
The subordinate chuckled in response, then leaned closer and spoke in a hushed voice. "You've already done more than your share, my lord. At this point, all that's left is to watch these low-born slaves move things back and forth."
His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.
"Incidentally, I happened to capture a few fine-looking boys from the largest pleasure garden earlier today. They've already been delivered to your chambers…"
"Ahem."
Coleman suddenly clutched at his forehead and let out a pained groan. "I think I'm feeling a little dizzy. Must be the stray arrow that struck my helmet earlier today…"
"No, I can't ignore this. I need to go lie down for a bit."
"Pushel, I'll leave the rest in your hands. Before the sun rises tomorrow, I will return for inspection. Should there be any slip-up…"
His voice trailed off ominously, but the gleam in his eyes revealed everything. The moment his subordinate's whispered words reached his ears, a gleam flickered across Coleman's eyes.
Without hesitation, he found the perfect excuse to excuse himself.
"Rest assured, Lord Coleman! If anything goes wrong, you may take my head as you please!"
"Good. Remember—you said it yourself."
Seeing Pushel so readily swear such an oath, Coleman's face lit up with barely concealed excitement.
Rubbing his hands together, he turned and led his personal guards away from the Bleeding Tower.
Even after his departure, the preparations continued in perfect order.
Late into the night, Pushel found a pretext to leave his post. Familiar with the streets of the southern district, he slipped through them quietly until he arrived at a narrow, unlit alley.
KNOCK. Knock. KNOCK. Knock.
Lowering his head, Pushel knocked on a hidden door with a specific rhythm. A moment later, the door creaked open.
As he raised his face, the man's appearance had already changed—an entirely different, unfamiliar face now looked into the room.
Without a word, he slipped inside.
CREAK!!
Before the door fully closed, one could catch a brief glimpse of the chamber within. Shadows of people lined the walls—figures garbed in striking attire.
There stood red-robed priests from the Temple of R'hllor, solemn men and women of the House of Black and White in their monochrome robes, and clerics clad in tricolor vestments of blue, violet, and green from the Temple of Trios.
…
From beyond the eastern sea, the morning sun slowly rose, its first golden rays brushing against the highest reaches of the city.
They touched the cold, scorched ruins of the northern district, where blackened corpses still lay strewn, with occasional wisps of smoke curling into the air.
Feeling refreshed and clear-headed, Coleman arrived at the Bleeding Tower right on schedule to inspect the final preparations.
Apart from Pushel's unnecessary attempt to build a secondary firebreak around the tower, the rest was mostly in order.
Coleman gave a few sharp rebukes and was about to command the removal of the excess construction, when Rudy and Stone entered the plaza with several well-organized squads of Unsullied, still covered in the sweat and grime from an entire night of labor.
At the sight of them, Coleman immediately realized that His Grace would be arriving soon. It was already too late to tear down the firebreak.
Cursing Pushel under his breath, Coleman quickly set the matter aside and turned his full attention to respectfully welcoming his king.
With a thunderous sweep of wings, Vermax soared into the sky from the southern mansion and, within the blink of an eye, descended over the Bleeding Tower.
"All hail His Grace, King of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones, the Scourge of Seas, Conqueror of Tyrosh, Lord of the Emerald Dragon—Jacaerys Velaryon the First!"
As Stone bellowed the meticulously crafted royal title, every soldier and prisoner within earshot dropped to their knees in unison. With one voice, they called out, "All hail… Jacaerys Velaryon the First!"
BOOOOM!!!
Vermax landed heavily in the clearing before the tower. Dressed in black dragon-scaled armor and a fine steel sword hanging from his waist, Jacaerys wore an expression of cold detachment as he stepped down from the beast's wing.
"Today… half of you shall live—"
SCREECH!!!
He had not even finished the first sentence when a piercing cry rang out from the northern peaks. Jacaerys lifted his gaze.
There, streaking through the sky, came a dazzling cloud of brilliant color, descending at breakneck speed toward the Bleeding Tower
..
..
[IMAGE]
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[Chapter End's]
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