“Young Master, your favorite incense has arrived.
Come home early tonight.”
Shamira rested her hand on Aegon’s chest, gazing at him with a seductive, teasing look.
“The military camp is a bit far from home, so I might not be able to come back every day.
Just take good care of yourself.”
With that, Aegon left his residence and headed toward the military camp, followed by Belwas.
Watching Aegon’s departing figure through the window, Shamira’s eyes were filled with worry.
Shamira was a bed slave.
As the name implied, she was a slave who served her master in bed.
In Aegon’s impression, a bed slave was somewhat similar to a ‘bedchamber maid,’ but in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, they were even worse off.
At least a bedchamber maid had a chance to raise her status and secure personal protection by bearing her master a son, whereas bed slaves had no such chance at all.
The moment they were bought by a master, the countdown on their ‘useful lifespan’ began.
Until their master grew tired of them, gave them away, or they faded with age, losing all means of livelihood and dying in a forgotten corner.
Yet humans live on hope, no matter how slim.
Even among the ‘profession’ of bed slaves, there were legendary figures.
It was said that one bed slave was bought by a nobleman who fell completely in love with her, not only marrying her but also leaving all his estate to her.
Those who trained the girls to be bed slaves wouldn’t bluntly tell them: You are merely objects for men to unleash their lust.
Instead, they would ‘point the way’ for the girls in training—to cling to promising noblemen, for even the crumbs leaking from such men’s fingers would be enough to keep them fed and clothed for the rest of their lives.
The faint hope of the future enabled them to endure the humiliation of their dignity and flesh in the present.
Shamira hoped to quickly find someone who could secure her future while she was still young.
Now, it seemed Aegon might not be a good choice.
Their trainers had taught them that important figures would never allow their heirs to indulge in wine and women; they would only train them strictly.
Only unimportant second sons were allowed to indulge in pleasure.
This made Shamira somewhat puzzled.
Aegon was clearly Illyrio’s only son, yet Illyrio treated Aegon with extraordinary leniency.
On the other hand, Young Griff was said to have tutors for martial arts, scholarship, and etiquette.
Coupled with Illyrio’s terrifying expression when Aegon asked him that day if Young Griff was his bastard…
Faced with this situation, Shamira felt conflicted, unsure of how to respond.
…
…
Rows of barracks looked like moldy bread, soft and sagging, as if a single kick could knock them over.
Large holes in the roof could even serve as skylights; though wind and rain leaked through, the soldiers living there seemed oblivious to it.
The warhorses in the stables were skin and bones, and there were even donkeys mixed in to pad the numbers!
On the overgrown training grounds, soldiers clad in wrinkled, faded uniforms had long finished gathering, sitting in the shade like a band of beggars.
At that moment, they were chatting aimlessly:
“Our new officer is coming today.
Does anyone know where he comes from?”
“I heard he’s the son of some magister, very young,” said a soldier who was visibly more knowledgeable.
“Then he really came to the wrong place, unless this new officer can squeeze blood from a stone.”
The speaker had a helpless smile in his voice.
As an officer, perks included but were not limited to embezzling pay, withholding military supplies, making soldiers work for them, and so on.
Even during holidays or birthdays, the soldiers had to find ways to give gifts to their commanding officer.
The previous officer had served for three years and tortured these poor soldiers to hell and back.
“Hmph, a magister’s son,” someone muttered quietly.
“A position like this can be bought with money, but it can’t be earned through seniority or skill.”
The magisters of Pentos didn’t trust armies; they only trusted city walls.
The walls of Pentos were the tallest and most grand among the Nine Free Cities.
Setting aside structures like the Wall built with legendary magic, they might well be among the greatest in the entire world.
While everyone was discussing, a skinny soldier ran over and said, “Get ready, everyone!
Our new officer is coming.”
Learning that the new officer was arriving, the cavalry and infantry straightened their attire and headed to the training grounds to wait.
Followed by Belwas, Aegon arrived at the camp.
The dilapidated barracks before him and the stench of horse dung in the air almost made him think he had stepped into a slum.
Perhaps the slums smelled better.
Aegon arrived at the training ground, only to look around and discover that out of the official quota of 300 men and horses, barely over 100 had actually shown up.
Aegon knew there would be phantom soldiers in the army, but this was far too exaggerated.
The ratio of phantom soldiers was actually two-thirds!
Speaking of which, the City Watch of Pentos had 20,000 men in total; calculated this way, the actual strength might only be seven or eight thousand.
It would be a miracle if an army like this could win any battle.
Then again, Pentos had indeed won no victories over the past century.
When the Targaryens still had dragons, they clung to the Targaryens; as soon as the Targaryens declined, Pentos was beaten up by Braavos.
Pentos originally had the ‘Flatlands’ and the ‘Plains of Andalos’ as its sphere of influence, but the latter was ceded away.
One must know that the Andals originated from the Plains of Andalos, and many Pentoshi were descendants of the Andals.
These fellows essentially lost their ancestral lands.
And the Braavosi fought under the banner of ‘liberating slaves,’ which was clearly an excuse to beat up Pentos.
After Braavos won, they restricted Pentos’s fleet size, requiring the Pentoshi magisters to keep only a small number of warships.
To this, the Pentoshi had no choice but to agree.
Aside from Braavos, the Dothraki didn’t pass up this fat piece of meat either.
Facing Dothraki aggression, the magisters of Pentos could only rely on offering gifts and currying favor with the Khal lords to buy moments of peace.
And the money for gifts and building walls was entirely extracted from exploiting the lower classes.
Over time, the magisters of Pentos came to trust only their private guards who maintained internal control, rather than the army that repelled foreign invasion.
This created a vicious cycle: the magisters distrusted the army, reducing army funding and benefits; reduced army funding lowered combat effectiveness; lowered combat effectiveness made the army even less trustworthy…
Thus resulting in today’s mess.
“Commander, the Pentos Field Cavalry has assembled and awaits your command.”
‘What on earth?
Field army?
Can you lot even fight in the field?’ Aegon scoffed internally as he looked at the unevenly lined soldiers, who resembled an old man’s crooked teeth.
Just then, a light screen unfolded in front of him, with an exclamation mark appearing in the upper right corner.
Aegon knew this meant a quest had been triggered.
[Side Quest: The military is the cornerstone of power and rule.
Forge a rated army and turn it into your sharp sword.]
[Item Obtained: Cavalry Training Manual]
[Quest Reward: Level 1 Skill Card * 2, Level 2 Skill Card * 1]
[Current Quest Progress: (0/100)]