Skyrim System In Westeros

The drinking lasted deep into the night. Wright, of course, did nothing but drink — his father-in-law and wife were right beside him, watching. It was all part of the local customs in Braavos.

By the time they were finished, the energy was drained from everyone. The tavern had lost its earlier bustle, and the group decided to return to the Sealord's palace to rest. As they exited the tavern, the streets outside were still lively.

The small canals of Braavos crisscrossed the area, and where several canals converged, forming a wider body of water where boats could dock, was known to the locals as the Moon Pool.

There, a crowd had gathered, both men and women, and Wright, being tall, could see that two people were dueling in the center. Both had drawn their weapons, though their movements were sloppy, clearly intoxicated. Within a few moves, one of the fighters had his throat slashed, blood spurting out wildly. The victor raised his arms in triumph, receiving cheers from the onlookers.

A person dressed in black approached, collected a small fee from the winner, and signaled for a few workers to come. Some began removing the body, others splashed water to clean the blood, and some took brushes to scrub the area — everything done with practiced precision.

The victor then walked up to a beautiful woman, said something to her, and the two left together.

Such scenes were happening all around the Moon Pool, and even the patrolling guards ignored them.

"Look, it's the Merling Queen!" many people on the street recognized her, and she waved back at them.

Wright and his group hadn't walked far when a drunken man stepped in front of Wright, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at him.

"Roar\~" The crowd became excited, quickly forming a circle to clear space for yet another duel.

Wright: "What's going on here? Isn't murder illegal?"

The Merling Queen: "In Braavos, duels are quite normal. These people are probably challenging you because of me."

"But I'm not from Braavos. I'm a foreigner," Wright said, confused.

The Merling Queen: "Because your clothes are so luxurious and you're wearing a longsword, they probably think you're an assassin. Only assassins wear such elaborate clothing in Braavos. The real wealthy people, skilled swordsmen, and the Faceless Men usually wear black or dark colors."

Wright glanced down at his outfit: dark black attire, with his sword, the Dark Sisters, at his waist — exactly the kind of gear that would mark him as a typical assassin in Braavos. "Assassins? People who get paid to kill?"

The Merling Queen nodded.

Wright asked again, "But if that's the case, why doesn't he challenge Oberyn to a duel? He's dressed more flamboyantly than I am!"

Oberyn, who had been wobbling from the alcohol, didn't say a word but casually pointed behind him.

Wright turned and saw that, despite Oberyn, Ellaria Sand, and Daemon Sand all being drunk, several of Oberyn's guards had remained sober. One of them, at some point, had already raised the Martell's heraldry.

"Then this duel can't be avoided, can it?" Wright asked, not afraid, but feeling that killing on the Sealord's turf as a guest was somewhat inappropriate.

"Wright, go!"

"Go! Go!"

Nymeria and Tyene, both with flushed faces from drinking, released Wright's hands and started cheering him on.

Hearing their words, Wright reluctantly walked to the center of the circle, standing face-to-face with the assassin.

Upon seeing Wright accept the challenge, the assassin ran a hand through his hair, then bowed to the Merling Queen. "Beautiful Merling Queen, in your name, I challenge the assassin by your side. He has accepted, and I will prove with his blood that I am the one truly worthy to stand beside you. I will serve you, dress you, and give up everything for you. I—"

"Will you fight or not?" Wright interrupted, drawing the Dark Sisters from his scabbard without a moment's hesitation. He had no time for the assassin's speech.

"Valyrian steel!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. Those who frequented the nearby entertainment districts, either nobles, wealthy merchants, or famous assassins, recognized it immediately.

The crowd now knew for certain that Wright was no ordinary assassin. He definitely wasn't one of them.

The assassin, feeling humiliated for being interrupted in front of the Merling Queen, raised his sword and yelled, "Die!"

With that, he charged at Wright.

In the light of the torches, his staff swung rapidly, creating an illusion of multiple afterimages as it moved through the air.

But Wright's speed was even greater. The crowd only saw him swiftly sidestep, and with a flash of the sword, Wright appeared behind the assassin. The sword's shadow barely had time to streak through the air before the assassin continued his forward momentum, charging two more steps before collapsing to the ground.

The assassin's head, sliced cleanly in two by Wright's strike, remained attached only by the chin, while the rest flew into the air.

The Dark Sisters had not even touched blood.

The crowd, including Oberyn and the others, was stunned, completely sobered by what they had just witnessed. For a moment, no one spoke.

Everyone had expected a few exchanges, some trash talk, and then the winner would be decided. Instead, Wright's speed had been so overwhelming that no one could react in time.

Oberyn still appeared slightly drunk.

Daemon Sand, however, was genuinely frightened. He had always thought that Wright's magic was a tale spun by Robert to make his brother seem more impressive, a story most people on the continent of Westeros believed. Those who had actually seen Wright's magic, some remained silent, while others were too low in status for anyone to believe them.

He hadn't witnessed any offensive magic, but now he had seen the power of Wright's physical ability. If Daemon had to face Wright, even if he could predict the first strike, what could he do about the second?

Daemon, stumbling slightly from the alcohol, continued looking for any possible weakness in Wright's form.

A cheer suddenly erupted from the crowd. Someone had started it, and soon everyone was chanting Wright's name.

The word had spread that assassins were challenging each other in the name of the Merling Queen, and the crowd only grew larger. Some even egged on the idea of another challenge for Wright.

From further away, someone who hadn't witnessed Wright's kill yet, encouraged by the cheers, stepped forward to face him. He wielded a thin sword.

Wright was growing increasingly frustrated. At this rate, the challenges would never end—defeat one, and another would step up.

"If people keep challenging me, do I just have to keep fighting?" Wright wondered, pondering whether his swift victories had failed to intimidate these people.

The Merling Queen replied, "That won't happen. Usually, there are no more than three duels initiated by an assassin in a single night. But some have been challenged repeatedly until they're killed. Assassins have no honor standards."

"Really?" Wright was growing tired of being treated like an entertainment spectacle. He wanted to intimidate them and get some rest. "Do you want to duel with me? Go ahead, make your move."

The assassin didn't immediately attack but instead circled around Wright with quick steps, constantly changing his stance while holding his sword. Wright stood still, watching as the assassin maneuvered.

When the assassin moved behind him, Wright shifted to follow, and the assassin suddenly lunged, aiming for his heart.

It was as if Wright had eyes on the back of his head. He smoothly avoided the strike and grabbed the assassin's hand, forcing him to release his weapon.

Wright sheathed the Dark Sisters back into their scabbard and then punched the assassin in the face, sending him stumbling, nearly unconscious, his limbs going limp.

Wright swiftly pinned the assassin to the ground, his hands cupping the assassin's head. He pressed his thumbs over the assassin's eyes, gradually increasing the pressure.

"Ahhh\~\~\~" The assassin screamed, struggling, but with no weapon, his punches and kicks barely moved Wright.

With a sickening crunch, Wright crushed the assassin's skull with his hands.

Oberyn placed his hand on Daemon Sand's shoulder, his drunken gaze quickly sharpening into something much more focused.

A moment of silence followed. Crushing a man's skull with your bare hands? The gruesome scene stunned the onlookers. Then, a wave of respect for strength began to take over, and the cheers and whistles that followed were louder than when Wright first fought. No one dared to challenge him again.

The Merling Queen walked over and kissed Wright, followed by Nymeria, who also kissed him and then embraced the Merling Queen. Tyene approached next, offering a handkerchief to help clean Wright's hands.

Daemon Sand, whether from too much alcohol or some other cause, suddenly began vomiting. He didn't even notice that some of the filth splashed onto his clothes.

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