Gohor's mobilization could not be hidden.
Braavos, Pentos, and Volantis all maintained numerous spies in the region. News of Viserys's massive recruitment of soldiers quickly reached them.
Inside the Sea Lord's Palace in Braavos, Freygo urgently summoned the nobles for a council.
If Gohor could be destroyed during this opportunity, then his earlier strategic mistakes would no longer matter.
The position of the next Sea Lord could still remain within his faction.
The Braavosi soldiers captured during the Battle of Gohor had already been returned long ago.
Freygo's influence within the military had not weakened much.
In fact, under the banner of redeeming Braavosi soldiers, he had quietly weakened several rival noble families.
"This is a gift from the heavens," Freygo declared to the gathering.
"That Viserys's ambitions certainly do not stop here. If we allow him to continue, we may lose the Andalos Plains.
Our ancestors fought Pentos for more than a decade to claim that land!"
He spoke passionately about the necessity of war.
The last time, no one had believed Gohor could withstand their armies. But this time the situation was different.
Soon someone voiced a challenge.
It was Urom Zalyne, the man who had once presented dragon eggs to Viserys.
"Gohor now has a fleet protecting it," Urom said calmly. "Its population has nearly tripled, its army has grown larger, and it even possesses its own armories. I do not believe war is a wise choice."
"So you suggest we simply hand our land over to them?"
Tormo spoke sharply.
He desperately needed military achievements to erase the humiliation of his earlier defeat.
As Freygo's loyal supporter, he had to defend his leader's position.
"I merely wish to avoid seeing another army completely destroyed," Urom replied.
"You—what did you say?"
Urom's words struck Tormo like a spear driven straight into his chest. Being publicly reminded of his failure turned Tormo's face red with anger.
Urom opposed the war for a simple reason.
Over the past few years he had earned considerable wealth through cooperation with Viserys.
If Doran served as Viserys's distribution center for printed goods in Westeros, then House Zalyne had become the hub for distributing those goods throughout Braavos.
Naturally, Urom had no desire to see Viserys fall.
More importantly, he could not allow Freygo to sacrifice the interests of others merely to strengthen his own political faction.
Freygo did not immediately argue.
Instead he looked at Urom and asked calmly,
"What if I told you that our soldiers will not even need to enter the battlefield before the war's outcome is decided?"
"Then forgive my ignorance," Urom replied with a faint smile. "But I fail to see how a war can be decided without soldiers fighting."
Members of his faction chuckled quietly.
Freygo continued.
"I have already formed an alliance with the horse lords. All we need to do is pin down Viserys's forces along the upper Rhoyne.
The true battlefield will be the Golden Plains in the south."
This statement immediately stirred interest among the assembled nobles.
If they could obtain the printing technology during this conflict, the rewards would be enormous.
They had already guessed the general working principle behind the printing press.
But they had never been able to replicate the ink or the materials used for the printing plates.
Judging from the printed goods exported by the Targaryens in recent years, Viserys had already improved the technology several times.
The gap between them continued to widen.
All they could do was watch helplessly as Viserys traded simple sheets of paper for their raw materials and technical knowledge.
"This Viserys is unbearably arrogant," Freygo said.
"He has never witnessed the terror of the horse lords. During negotiations with the Dothraki envoys, he actually declared that true dragons do not make peace with beasts."
Freygo paused.
"That statement enraged Drogo. Soon the Dothraki armies will arrive at the Rhoyne. Volantis will also move in the south to restrain Viserys.
This time our allies are stronger, and the risks are smaller. Why should we not act?"
As Freygo painted such a promising picture, many nobles began to feel tempted.
Gohor had once been a minor nuisance.
Now it had become a massive prize.
If someone else was willing to break open the armor surrounding that prize, why shouldn't they claim a share?
Urom understood that the momentum for war in Braavos could no longer be stopped.
Reluctantly, he accepted the outcome.
Far away, an endless green plain stretched toward the horizon.
The grasslands met the blue sky in the distance, with hardly any hills or terrain changes in sight.
A powerful wind swept across the land.
Waist-high grass rolled like waves across the earth. Then dark brown streams appeared on the horizon.
At first they seemed small. Soon they grew into surging floods.
It was an army composed entirely of cavalry.
The riders were bare-chested, each carrying the curved blade that symbolized their people.
Behind every warrior followed two or three spare horses.
It was the army of the Dothraki.
Six khals led nearly one hundred thousand roaring warriors westward.
Each warrior traveled with multiple horses.
The great host advanced like a moving storm. Wherever the army passed, the grass of the plains was trampled flat.
This was a force that required almost no supply lines. They brought not only horses, but also flocks of sheep.
If the horses grew hungry, they grazed on the grass.
If the warriors grew hungry, they simply ate the horses.
After Drogo announced his western campaign against Gohor, it took less than half a month for the host to reach the eastern bank of the Rhoyne.
There stood the ruins of an ancient city called Ar Noy.
Ar Noy had once belonged to the Rhoynar. Drogo intended to use it as his temporary base.
Although the city was technically a ruin, that did not mean it was entirely abandoned.
Volantis and Pentos had already transformed part of the area into something resembling a garden.
Cool, well-ventilated tents had been erected. Gentle and obedient slave girls awaited the khals.
Delicate foods were prepared.
Soft music filled the air.
When Drogo and the other khals arrived, their rustic discomfort was almost impossible to hide.
Some even wondered privately why they needed to travel all the way to Gohor. Would it not be easier simply to march south and raid Volantis instead?
However, once they saw the Volantene army led by Malacho, those thoughts quickly disappeared.
The older Khal Mosso understood the situation clearly.
Several towns surrounded Volantis.
Those settlements could support each other in war.
Furthermore, Volantis possessed fleets and ships of its own. Even with one hundred thousand riders, they could not conquer it.
Years earlier, Viserys had secretly crossed the river with his fleet.
Instead of weakening the Tiger faction in Volantis, the event had strengthened them.
With the threat of another fleet now present on the Rhoyne, their slave-raiding forces had been destroyed.
Many Volantenes had begun to resent Viserys.
Calls for war had grown louder.
Malaqo raised his wine cup and addressed the assembled khals.
"Honored khals, please rest here and gather your strength. Our army is already building bridges for your forces to cross the river."
He smiled confidently.
"In no more than half a month, your armies will cross."
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