area51novel Chapter 51: West Ice Storage
Chapter 51: West Ice Storage
boom!
The woman's laundry room door was kicked open.
Three players from the Action Division stormed into the laundry room, one of them grabbing the male homeowner by the collar:
"I just told you not to close the door, didn't you hear me or are you hiding something! Speak! Are you the prince's henchman, the lackey of the governors who rebelled against the great King Viserys III! Speak!"
"I...I was just scared, please forgive me, sir!"
The male homeowner stammered as he begged for mercy.
"Still trying to argue! Hit him!"
The player shoved him to the ground, and before he could get up, his two companions rushed up and started hitting him on the head with sticks.
The woman behind the counter came out to stop her, but was pushed away. The woman didn't give up and lunged at him again. One of the players got impatient and hit the woman on the head with a stick.
The woman fell backward, and blood quickly pooled on the ground.
died.
The player was taken aback at first. After a while, he looked up and found that no punishment mechanism had been triggered. He immediately hit the wailing man in the mouth with a stick.
"It's clearly written here that this property belongs to former Governor Frank. You think you can just say it isn't? Take it away! Throw it in the western icehouse! Torture it properly!"
Inside a tavern, the action team leader waved his hand, and the players behind him, as fierce as wolves, swarmed forward and pinned down the pale-faced tavern owner.
"What are you all looking at! This is what happens when you oppose the great King Viserys III!"
"When the secret police are on a mission, anyone not involved should get out!"
The action team leader, with his hands behind his back, looked at the tavern patrons who had gathered around to watch the commotion and shouted sternly.
This shout instantly dispersed the onlookers, who poured out of the tavern.
After everyone has left.
The action team leader personally sealed the tavern door.
Viserys, who was meeting with a group of merchants at his temporary palace, was unaware that his secret police players had already begun to use his name as a pretext to arrest rebels and were letting loose.
A former governor's courtyard has now been converted into a makeshift prison for interrogating prisoners by order of misdirection.
Its name is: West Ice Warehouse.
"Will you tell me or not! Will you tell me or not!"
A prisoner tied to a cross was nearly beaten unconscious by a whip soaked in salt water.
"I really don't know, sir!"
The prisoner kept begging for mercy.
The shirtless player in front of him was panting heavily. Seeing that the prisoner was still being stubborn, he couldn't help but turn around and look at the chief pointing fingers at the mouse.
Leaning back in his chair, the player who had been resting with his eyes closed slowly opened them and beckoned to the other player, signaling him to come closer.
The player put down the whip and walked over:
"President... no, Director!"
"Since he doesn't understand what you mean, just tell him directly," he said casually, referring to something as trivial.
"clear."
The player turned and walked over to the prisoner, whispering in his ear:
"Tell me! Where did you hide all your money?"
The prisoner suddenly looked up and yelled, "Damn it, you should have said you wanted money earlier!"
"I'll tell you, I'll tell you, I've hidden all my money in..."
"Snapped!"
"What nonsense are you spouting! I'm asking where the funds you used to fund the bandits fighting against the Targaryens are!"
The player shouted righteously.
"Okay, okay, in my room, the seventh brick in the second row from the entrance is a hidden compartment. Find it, and you'll find the money," the prisoner mumbled, blood trickling from his mouth.
This scene was playing out simultaneously in several other rooms nearby.
If we weren't short-handed, we could have arrested all the wealthy people in the city right now by calling a mouse a duck.
"Do as they say, take the money." Having asked enough questions, he pointed at the mouse and ordered.
Soon, the swaggering and domineering members of the Action Section were gathered together and began to collect money from house to house in small teams and groups, taking the addresses with them.
The governors who had surrendered earlier when things turned bad hadn't even had a chance to express their loyalty to Viserys before these agents came knocking on their doors, demanding money right off the bat.
Those who tried to resist were turned away by the agents, but then players from the Grenadier Corps came to block the door with Wildfire Canisters, forcing them to give up their weapons, and eventually doubling the price.
The remaining governors, seeing this, dared not act rashly and could only choose to pay money to avoid further trouble.
The merchants had just received Viserys's promise that everything would continue as before, and left the palace with peace of mind. But as soon as they returned home, their servants told them that their homes had been ransacked.
In an instant, the merchants froze on the spot, speechless for a long time.
Looking at the boxes of gold coins and gold dragons being carried in.
Viserys turned to look at the spymaster, who was beaming and gloating over his achievement, pointing fingers at a mouse and calling it a duck.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your Majesty, these are the assets of criminals who rebelled against Targaryen rule, totaling 1.35 million gold dragons!" he replied, pointing at a mouse and calling it a duck.
Of course, he didn't mention that the secret police station left 300,000 gold dragons as funds, and the grenadier regiment received another 50,000 gold dragons as a reward for their help.
What the hell is this rebel funding? Did you ransack the homes of all the rich people in the city?
Viserys suddenly realized something and quickly looked at the person who was calling a mouse a duck:
"Those merchants in town?"
"They robbed... no, they confiscated everything from those identified as traitors, but naturally they didn't touch the innocent ones." He replied, pointing fingers at the problem.
Damn it, this idiot! This is killing the goose that lays the golden eggs! You've brought me over a million gold dragons, but which merchant will come to Pentos to trade in the future?
So you're only planning to eat this one meal?
Viserys was speechless. These players were good at fighting, but if they were to govern a region, they would probably create eighteen rebel kings and seventy-two righteous armies in a single day.
Although he harbored resentment, Viserys couldn't voice it.
Because players always think of themselves as the boss in the game.
Especially with his cronies still around, Viserys couldn't publicly berate him.
As for punishing them, Viserys could do nothing more than praise them for doing a good job, and then neither openly nor secretly reward them.
Damn it, bring out a bunch of SS stormtroopers!
They even thought they had done a great job, acting all smug and self-satisfied, calling a mouse a duck.
Ser Jorah, standing behind the king, wanted to say something, but felt it was inappropriate to say it, so he could only stare with a dark face at the spy chief who was jumping around His Majesty.
"How much of the capital belongs to the businessman?"
"His Majesty asked."
"It's probably around seven or eight hundred thousand, I haven't calculated it precisely, but most of them belong to local wealthy merchants and caravans that stop over here." After thinking for a moment, Zhishuweiya replied roughly.
Viserys knew he couldn't take the money. The million-plus gold dragon looked tempting, but he absolutely couldn't do something as short-sighted as draining the pond to catch all the fish.
"Return all the merchants' money," His Majesty the King said.
"Huh? Why?" the bewildered spy chief replied.
"It may feel good to rob them today, but when merchants from other places see this, they won't dare to do business here anymore. You should know that Pentos is a port city."