In the center of the tent stood a basin filled to the brim with ice, meant to cool the air.
Several khals and their bloodriders could not help drifting closer to it.
Illyrio, however, felt conflicted.
Part of him wanted to step forward as well, but the smell coming from the horse lords was overwhelming.
A heavy odor of sheep and sweat hung around them.
At that moment, he missed the fragrance of his wife Syla's perfume and the milky scent of his child more than ever.
But he knew Drogo was an extremely perceptive man.
If he showed even the slightest hint of disgust, it might be noticed.
So he slowed his breathing.
That way he would not be overwhelmed by the smell, and he could listen carefully to the plans being discussed and report them later to Viserys.
"The Golden Plains are vast and flat, the perfect terrain for cavalry warfare," Malaqo said.
"And Viserys's so-called Meraxes Wall is very low. I believe Khal Drogo and the other khals are already aware of this."
"Once you break through the Meraxes Wall, our siege equipment will follow immediately. However, most of our forces will remain behind to contain the enemy, so—"
Malaqo swept his sharp eyes across the gathered khals.
In the past two years he had grown noticeably older. The bags beneath his eyes sagged nearly to his mouth.
Yet with the rise of the Tiger faction's power, he had been so pleased that he had even fathered a son.
"Enough," Ogo said dismissively.
"We understand. You people who wear iron clothes and live in stone houses are afraid of dying."
"We'll take Viserys's head ourselves. You can just watch from behind."
This had already been agreed upon beforehand.
The Dothraki wanted to break open Gohor and open a gateway into the territories of the Free Cities.
The three great cities wanted to remove the threat posed by Gohor and seize the wealth and technology it had accumulated over the years.
The basis of their alliance was simple.
The Dothraki would provide the warriors. The three cities would provide the money.
Illyrio silently committed every detail of the agreement to memory.
If one hundred thousand Dothraki riders launched their attack from the southern Golden Plains, there would be almost nothing capable of stopping them along the way.
For Viserys, the most unbearable thing would be constant raids.
If the war could not be decided within a year, Gohor's future would become uncertain.
Viserys and his ministers might be capable fighters. But enemies like the Dothraki were not defeated simply through strength.
The horse lords could fail countless times. They only needed to succeed once.
Illyrio did not feel optimistic about Viserys's chances.
If not for the fact that every servant in his household—from the cooks to the guards—had already been replaced by Viserys's people, he would never have involved himself in such matters.
Perhaps Viserys should simply withdraw from Gohor. At least that way he could escape with several armies intact.
In Illyrio's view, the best option would be for Viserys to leave Essos entirely. He could still sell Gohor for a good price.
But Illyrio knew Viserys would never agree to such a plan.
If he had intended to flee, he would have done so years ago during the defense of Gohor.
There would have been no need to wait until now.
Illyrio currently carried a mission.
He had to persuade Drogo to bring the main army north and fight Viserys near the Goose Down Mountains.
After the alliance was concluded, Drogo had stated his own demands.
"We will take one thousand chests of gold and two hundred thousand people."
"No problem, of course no problem," Malaqo replied immediately.
This was the difference between civilized men and barbarians. Civilized men like him plundered in far more efficient ways.
What they truly valued were the Targaryen printing presses and the skilled craftsmen who operated them.
Those craftsmen were the most valuable prizes of all.
As for the two hundred thousand people Drogo demanded, it would be easy enough to provide him with healthy men and women.
"For now we require two hundred chests of gold and sufficient food supplies," Drogo continued.
"Of course. Everything has already been prepared."
Volantis had dealt with the Braavosi for centuries.
They had fought wars and formed alliances countless times. Negotiations like this were second nature to them.
The meeting continued in a cheerful atmosphere.
The Dothraki had a custom of indulging their physical desires beneath the open sky.
The enormous camp stretching for dozens of leagues soon resembled the site of some obscene ritual.
Laughter and crude cries echoed through the night.
Late that evening, after everyone had gone to rest, Illyrio quietly approached Drogo's tent alone.
After confirming his identity, Drogo's bloodriders allowed him inside.
Illyrio spoke Dothraki well, so their conversation proceeded smoothly.
"You want me to attack Gohor from the north," Drogo said. "Give me a reason."
The fat merchant recalled the advice Viserys had given him in secret.
"Honored khal," Illyrio said, "after the war, how do you believe the population and wealth of Gohor will be divided?"
"Obviously whoever contributes more will take the greater share," Drogo replied without hesitation.
Illyrio shook his head.
"Khal Drogo, that is the rule on the grass sea. But the people who live in stone tents are cunning. Their rule for dividing spoils is not based on who contributed the most effort."
"It is based on who preserves the most strength."
Drogo was not foolish.
He understood the implication almost immediately.
Illyrio continued.
"If your forty thousand roaring warriors are reduced to ten thousand... or even a few thousand... do you believe they would still respect you as they do today?"
"That is impossible!" Kovarro protested angrily.
In his eyes, no one could inflict such a terrible defeat upon Drogo. But Drogo raised his hand, silencing him.
"So what are you suggesting?"
Illyrio replied calmly.
"Since everyone knows cavalry fight best on the plains, Viserys will naturally place the bulk of his army near the Golden Plains."
"You might leave only a small portion of your roaring warriors there and lead your main force north instead."
"The terrain in the north may not favor your cavalry, but the enemy army there will undoubtedly be much smaller."
It was a strategy that ran against expectations.
Drogo's eyes lit up.
Yet after a moment of thought, he spoke cautiously.
"How do I know Viserys will truly place most of his army in the south? In the end, this is only your guess."
At that moment Illyrio knew the plan was already halfway successful.
In his secret letter, Viserys had told him that convincing Drogo of this illusion would be Illyrio's task.
"Your roaring warriors ride faster than any army he commands," Illyrio said. "You can simply see it for yourself."
As he spoke, Illyrio reached into his robes and took out a telescope.
Drogo had seen such devices before.
He glanced toward his bloodriders.
Kovarro and the others exchanged looks. An idea had already formed in their minds.
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