Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen
Chapter 62: At Least He Still Has His Upper Lip

Chapter 62: At Least He Still Has His Upper Lip

Viserys, Dany, and the others remained in their room, waiting for the tournament to progress. To pass the time, the brother and sister engaged in a game of five-in-a-row. Meanwhile, Gortave continued to escort Kethmo to the seventh arena. Many individuals with ulterior motives populated the arena, including Jorah, Illyrio, and the Bloodbeard mercenary group.

Bloodbeard had bribed the schedule coordinator to ensure that Viserys would face one of his own men, known as "Roaring Lutha." Lutha was skilled in martial arts, but his most notable trait was his deafening roar. Before a fight, he would bellow at his opponent, often stunning the inexperienced and creating an opportunity for a swift kill. Bloodbeard was desperate; he needed a decisive win to maintain his reputation for future dealings.

As the day progressed, time seemed to fly by, and it was already afternoon. There were several instances of deliberate delays in the arena, raising suspicions about a time extension. It appeared that House Fregar had prepared meticulously, setting up the arena to their advantage.

After a light meal, a servant in a blue uniform approached. "Lord Viserys Targaryen, you are next in the tournament. Please follow me."

"Brother, be careful," Dany urged.

"Don't worry," Viserys reassured her, setting down his chess piece and giving Kyla a meaningful glance, signaling her to stay vigilant.

After ten minutes, the penultimate match concluded, marking the final bout of the first round. By this time, many spectators had left, leaving the arena somewhat empty.

"Kill him..." Bloodbeard, growing increasingly irritable, shouted as his man entered the arena, drawing attention. His eyes were wide with anticipation, already envisioning Viserys' bloodshed.

"Is that Viserys? The Beggar King?" Gortave's eyes filled with amazement. How could such a handsome young man be the "Beggar King"?

Next to him, Kethmo noticed Gortave's expression and felt a surge of jealousy. His gaze on Viserys hardened with envy. He vowed to himself that one day, he would defeat Viserys in front of Gortave and become her most loyal and powerful protector.

Jorah watched Viserys enter the arena and couldn't help but think of Rhaegar. He wondered how different Westeros might have been if Rhaegar hadn't "taken" Lyanna, and how his own fate might have changed.

Clearing these chaotic thoughts from his mind, Jorah focused on assessing Viserys's strength. 'Relaxed body, firm gaze, steady steps. He seems like a good fighter,' he noted.

He then turned his attention to Bloodbeard's man, Roaring Lutha. Despite being half a head shorter than Viserys, Lutha had a solid, pillar-like presence. Such a formidable figure charging into battle would be a terrifying sight.

In Jorah's estimation, the odds were against Viserys, with a 40-60% chance in favor of Lutha. Although Viserys could win, his chances seemed slim.

Meanwhile, Pretty Meris, an experienced mercenary, observed the scene. She quickly realized that Viserys had been targeted. Yet, upon seeing him, her thoughts momentarily blanked. 'What a striking young man', she thought. His slightly curly silver hair tied back and his black long coat gave him a calm, commanding presence. He stood on the arena like a poised halberd.

Viserys's confident demeanor made Lutha feel a twinge of inferiority, but he quickly masked it with defiance. "Haha, with that appearance, which brothel did you run away from?" Lutha taunted.

"Huh? Didn't your mother ever mention me to you? I trained her myself," Viserys retorted coolly.

"You’re looking for death!" Lutha froze for a moment before shouting angrily. His battlefield experience didn't immediately register the indirect insult.

With the referee's signal, Lutha let out a deafening roar. The nobleman in the room shuddered, dropping his teacup, which shattered on the ground. However, Viserys remained unfazed.

In terms of battlefield experience and killing, Viserys was no less capable. Had Lutha ever faced a torrent of steel, carpet bombings, or a barrage of bullets? Had he ever been in the hellish chaos where each bullet claimed a life? To Viserys, Lutha's roar was useless, serving only to emit a faint stench of bad breath that mildly disgusted him.

Roaring Lutha swung his great sword, baring his yellow teeth in a savage grin, at Viserys. Seeing Viserys standing still, he grew excited, believing his opponent was paralyzed with fear. He thought he could decapitate Viserys with a single stroke.

The crowd held their breath. Gortave buried her face in Kethmo's shoulder, unable to watch. Jorah Mormont and Meris stared wide-eyed, transfixed by the unfolding drama. Regis gripped the railing so tightly it seemed he might vault over it, and Dany's knuckles turned white from clutching the same railing in sheer tension.

A flash of light blinded the spectators for an instant. Lutha's attack had missed. As he turned to strike again, he felt an intense burning on his cheek. Looking down, he saw a familiar, furry object on the ground. Touching his face, he discovered it was wet. The object on the ground was his chin—his entire lower jaw had been sliced off by Viserys' sword.

"Oh, uh, ah..." Lutha tried to speak, but his tongue and the structure of his mouth were gone, leaving him to produce only guttural, unintelligible sounds. The excruciating pain spread rapidly through his brain, rendering him incapable of continuing the fight.

Viserys slowly raised his sword and pointed it at a masked red-bearded man in the stands, his lips curling into a sneer. The speed of his attack was astonishing—too fast for the crowd to follow. The battle ended almost as soon as it began, and Viserys had not only defeated his opponent but severed Lutha's chin with precision.

The crowd was stunned by the swiftness of the duel. Viserys's victory required a masterful control of distance and angle, making the feat even more impressive. Lutha was left in a state worse than death; without the ability to chew, he would be relegated to a diet of liquid food, condemning him to a miserable existence. His future was bleak, destined to wither away like a stinking rat in a dark corner.

Viserys's single, lethal move shocked everyone.

Jorah announced that the assassination plan had been postponed.

Meris, intrigued by Viserys, decided to replace his residence to see if he might be interested in joining her.

Bloodbeard, who had been shouting and jeering, was rendered speechless, as if he had choked on his own words.

The swift outcome of the battle quickly reached House Fregar. "Father, his swordsmanship seems to have exceeded our expectations," a young noble remarked. "But Viserys is still a yonng; he must be weaker than those experienced swordsmen."