Huh… what just happened?

Aegor had just finalized two deals, each worth 2,000 gold dragons, and was considering the best way to reinvest the 4,000 once they were in his hands. He had barely taken a moment to relax when, right before his eyes his beloved disciple was kidnapped!

Margaery’s ability to turn strangers into instant friends was truly astounding. Moments ago, she had been a tough negotiator, yet in the blink of an eye, she had transformed into a “Highgarden girl who loves swordplay but has never been given the chance to learn.” Her seamless performance was nothing short of masterful.

If I didn’t already know what kind of person she is, my first meeting with her in the camp might not have gone much better than Arya’s just now…

She was as charming as she was sharp, and her ability to read people was terrifying.

Just a moment ago, she had been unwilling to budge on the price. But the moment Arya appeared, she had suddenly become far more agreeable. Was she merely trying to get rid of Aegor quickly so she could focus on charming the Hand of the King’s daughter?

Wait… does that mean I could have pushed for 2,500, and she still would have agreed?

But then again, Margaery was the only daughter of House Tyrell and had come to King’s Landing on a mission to secure Robert’s favor. How would she possibly have the time to train in swordplay every day?

…

“Hey, just agree already!”

Arya’s impatient shaking jolted Aegor from his thoughts. He sighed and nodded helplessly. “Fine.”

(I’ll have to tell Nina to put away any important documents in the office. I don’t want anyone sneaking around in here… Jaqen alone is enough of a problem. I don’t need another.)

“Master, you’re the best!” Arya beamed, grabbing Aegor’s arm and rubbing against it affectionately before dragging him out from behind the table. “Come on! I want to challenge you, Miss Margaery has to see how much I’ve improved!”

“You want to challenge Lord Aegor?” Margaery asked with apparent curiosity, then suddenly clapped her hands as if remembering something. “Oh, I nearly forgot to introduce you. This is Prince Oberyn Martell—and his lover, Ellaria Sand.”

“Oh! Hello, Lord Oberyn… and Lady Ellaria.” Arya greeted them with the etiquette Aegor had drilled into her, but a moment later, her eyes widened. “Wait… Oberyn? Are you the ‘Red Viper’?”

“I suppose that’s what my friends call me,” Oberyn replied with an amused smile, giving Arya a small nod.

“Prince Oberyn is one of the greatest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms,” Margaery added. “The number of people who could best him in combat can be counted on one hand.”

There was no need for Margaery to introduce the Red Viper, of course Arya had heard of him. She looked at the Dornish prince with open curiosity, and her mind naturally jumped to a comparison. “Master, who’s better—you or the Red Viper?”

“Of course the prince is stronger. Even ten of me wouldn’t be his match.”

If ten Aegors attacked him at once, the outcome might be uncertain. But if they came at him one by one? That statement was no exaggeration. Aegor answered honestly. The mere fact that he was being compared to Oberyn was already overestimating his abilities. “I’ve already sparred with the prince once. He showed mercy, so I surrendered without hesitation.”

He still remembered that duel well. How much mercy had Oberyn shown? To put it into perspective, it was like a game of table tennis, Oberyn had given Aegor a ten-point lead, yet Aegor still lost 10 to 12. To an outsider, it might have looked like a close match, a hard-fought battle where one side simply fell short in the end. But to those involved, the truth was clear: Oberyn could have stretched the gap to 10 to 100, or even 10 to 1,000, if he had wanted to. Surrendering before making a complete fool of himself had been the best outcome for Aegor.

“Lord Aegor is a fine warrior as well. I learned much from our match,” Oberyn said politely.

A Dornishman, being polite? If he meant he had gained experience in toying with weaker opponents, then sure, that made sense… Aegor smirked inwardly, but before he could respond, something felt off.

Too late.

Arya had already released him and dashed across the table. “That’s perfect—I challenge you, Prince Oberyn!”

“Hmm?” The Dornishman blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Your little admirer wants to fight you. Does she need a reason?” Ellaria giggled, slipping gracefully from his lap back into her seat. “Go on, humor the little wolf.”

“Arya, stop messing around,” Aegor warned with a frown. “You’ve only been training for a few months, and you want to spar with someone who’s been practicing for over a decade? I’ll fight you this afternoon, as many times as you want—how about that?”

Oberyn’s reputation wasn’t just for show. The number of people who had been maimed or killed in duels with him could fill this entire room. Back in the military camp, when Aegor had been forced into a match against him, even though they had no real enmity, he had been the one to back down and offer flattery before daring to fight.

Oberyn wouldn’t harm Arya, of course but nothing in life was absolute. If she got injured, he would be the one held responsible as her guardian.

“No, I want to see a true swordsman in action the stronger, the better!” Arya barely even glanced at Aegor before grabbing Oberyn’s wrist. Despite her small size, she was deceptively strong, strong enough to yank the Red Viper straight to his feet.

“Alright, alright, little one—no need to pull me, I can walk on my own.” Oberyn smiled helplessly, seemingly amused by Arya’s enthusiasm. “Get me a similar sword, and I won’t bully you.”

“Prince Oberyn!” Margaery suddenly looked concerned. Her eldest brother, Willas Tyrell, had shattered his leg in a sparring match against the Red Viper. Though it had been a fair duel, and Willas had accepted his loss without complaint, the incident was proof enough that even in practice, swords had no eyes.

She had only wanted to befriend Arya and subtly probe for gossip about the Queen and her brother, anything that might help her decide whether she should linger in King’s Landing or move on. Introducing the Prince of Dorne had been mere courtesy. But if an accident happened because of a few casual words, her already difficult journey north would become completely pointless.

“Please… be careful,” she urged.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Relax. I don’t play dangerous games.”

…

The entire group followed Arya and Oberyn to the backyard, most of them looking uneasy. Jaqen was seated on a bench, sipping water, and raised an eyebrow at the sudden influx of people. When he heard that Arya wanted to challenge the Red Viper, his expression flickered with mild surprise.

After a brief pause, he selected a training sword identical to Arya’s small blade, as requested, and tossed it to the Dornish prince.

The two stepped into the center of the yard and faced each other. The duel was starting to feel all too real.

“Come on, then.” Oberyn barely spared Arya a serious glance. He swung the wooden sword lazily, as if it were a mere toy. “Show me your best moves. The patience of a viper… is very short.”

(To be continued.)

***

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep