Through the window of his carriage, Magister Illyrio of Pentos gazed up at the spectacular grey-brown outer walls of Viserys Fort, their foundations set upon massive boulders.
At the foot of the hill lay a city complete with a harbor; atop the hill stood the King's White Keep, the banner of the red dragon on black snapping in the wind at the summit.
Viserys Fort was flanked by the Upper Rhoyne to the left and rolling hills to the right, with a moat dug to complete its defenses. It sat in a commanding position, looking down upon the world.
Illyrio studied the design. It occupied the high ground, and with those massive walls—studded with battlements, arrow slits, and murder holes—it looked entirely impregnable.
ever since Braavos had effectively disarmed Pentos, the Magisters had little experience leading armies. Yet, even to a layman's eye, it was obvious that taking this fortress would be a nightmare.
"Why does this stone look so familiar?" Illyrio squinted at the outer walls, then realization dawned. It was the stone from the ancient ring of standing stones in the Velvet Hills.
"A clever man. He knows how to use what is at hand," Illyrio mused. "It seems that giant Valyrian steel colossus will be disappearing soon, too."
Illyrio's procession continued forward. Thanks to a letter of passage signed by the Magisters of Pentos, he was escorted up the hill to the fortress as a distinguished guest with little trouble—Viserys had given orders in advance.
The guards inspected Illyrio's caravan.
Aside from the vast supplies required to keep Illyrio fed and watered, there were seven large wagons filled with gifts for Viserys.
Gold, silver, jewels, fine silks, rare spices, vintage wines, and several beautiful "maidens." They were called servants, but in the Pentoshi fashion, they were bonded for life—slaves in all but name.
As the carriage rumbled over the white flagstones toward the hilltop, Illyrio observed the orderly city and the Andals, who looked content and secure. It spoke volumes of Viserys's administrative ability.
"Is it possible this Viserys is a prodigy who has simply known how to hide his light?" Illyrio speculated privately.
But he quickly dismissed the thought. Varys's little birds rarely sang false songs. The boy at the Red Keep had been a volatile, spoiled prince.
It was more likely that hardship had forged the man, sharpening Viserys's latent talents and transforming a silk-wrapped brat into a ruler.
If that was the case, this Viserys was even more terrifying. It required a hard, ruthless heart to undergo such a change. After losing the protection of Ser Willem Darry and the Sealord, he had seized strategic opportunities and grasped power with his own hands. That kind of vision and ferocity was not the mark of a fop.
"If this is true, our plans may need adjustment," Illyrio thought. Originally, their grand scheme hadn't included Viserys as a key player; they had looked down on him.
Viserys and his sister were meant to be smoke and mirrors—a distraction to draw the eye of the Iron Throne while they bought time for their "Aegon" to mature.
But the situation was changing too fast. They might no longer be able to control Viserys.
Lost in thought, he arrived at the new seat of House Targaryen: the White Keep.
Illyrio struggled to disembark. His massive chest and layers of blubber made him look like a manatee on land.
"Gods be good, this travel is suffering," Illyrio wheezed. "But compared to the opulence of Pentos, this White City has a fresh scent to it. A new beginning."
In the flatlands around Pentos, there were orchards, farms, and mines, but the peasants and laborers there were bound to the land, constantly ravaged by Dothraki horselords. And as for Andalos... that was a backwater the Pentoshi usually regarded with disdain.
Typically, one wouldn't see a town in such a vast wilderness, and Magisters rarely traveled this far. Illyrio looked at the White Keep with genuine curiosity.
The black-armored guards politely took over Illyrio's security detail, and Illyrio signaled his Unsullied to stand down. A smart man knows when to give face to his host.
"This way, Magister," a tall Andal warrior said, guiding him.
Illyrio followed the warrior toward the Great Hall.
The original grey stone hall had been completely renovated; it was now constructed of white marble. It wasn't excessively luxurious, but it was clean, elegant, and imposing.
Passing through doors of oak and steel, sunlight streamed in through glass windows on either side, illuminating a long red carpet. The dome above was a mosaic of colored marble, depicting a roaring dragon.
"Magister Illyrio. You are the first foreign dignitary to arrive at Viserys Fort," Viserys announced.
Viserys sat upon a throne on a dais. The seat was carved of oak, its back shaped into the likeness of a three-headed dragon. Behind him hung a massive banner: the red three-headed dragon on a field of black.
Aggo and Hugo stood to his left and right, the King's personal guard.
"Bring a chair for my guest. Let the Magister sit closer," Viserys commanded.
Illyrio was truly enormous. The chair they brought out for him looked wide enough to seat a whale, complete with a velvet backrest.
"Your Grace's kindness is boundless. Seeing you... it is as if I am looking upon the Conqueror himself," Illyrio said, gasping slightly.
Beads of sweat the size of beans dotted the fat Magister's forehead, and his piggy eyes twinkled in his fleshy face.
The rings on his fingers glittered—onyx, opal, tiger's eye, tourmaline, ruby, amethyst, sapphire, emerald, jet, and jade. There was also a massive black diamond and a green pearl.
Viserys stared at the rings. This son of a bitch is rich, he thought.
These merchant-magisters held the real power of the Free Cities, having long ago sidelined the hereditary princes.
"The Dothraki robbed him... I shouldn't be polite either," Viserys decided internally. Eventually, there would be a chance for a big score. But not today.
Illyrio noticed the flash of greed in Viserys's eyes. It was a hunger for wealth.
Illyrio felt a wave of relief. As long as the boy loved gold, there was a way to communicate.
He looked at the spirited young King. Silver-gold hair, purple eyes, dressed in black with a red dragon embroidered in rubies across his chest. A crown of seven gems rested on his head. He carried himself with true regal bearing.
And then there was the Targaryen charm—that inhuman beauty. Rhaegar had been famous for his looks, but Viserys was perhaps even more striking.
Yet their demeanors were opposites. Rhaegar had been a melancholy artist, burdened by prophecy. Viserys looked like an ambitious, confident, and free-spirited warrior king.
Illyrio mentally compared his hidden "Aegon" to Viserys. The gap was immense.
Aegon was still a child. Even if they packaged him with a better claim to the throne, he couldn't compete with the dangerous charisma Viserys was currently radiating. Viserys was a lethal, splendid warrior, worshipped as a demigod by the Andals.
"I thank you for your praise, Magister. But I wonder, what purpose has brought you across mountains and rivers to my door?" Viserys asked calmly, unmoved by the flattery.
Viserys was already wary of the fat man. The best solution would be to kill him, but obtaining his petrified dragon eggs would be better.
Illyrio and Varys thought their schemes were flawless, but Viserys knew the script. The success of men like them relied on honeyed words, hidden daggers, and the fact that they operated in the shadows where no one noticed them.
"I come for friendship. Friendship between Pentos and Andalos," Illyrio said with a smile, his flesh jiggling with the movement.
"What sort of friendship?" Viserys asked.
"A friendship guaranteed to satisfy you," Illyrio boasted. "With your permission, I shall have my Unsullied present my gifts."
"Proceed."
"At once, Your Grace!" Illyrio smiled and stood up, the chair beneath him groaning as if it might shatter at any second.
The Unsullied guards carried seven massive chests into the hall.
One by one, they were thrown open, filling the room with the dazzle of treasure.
The first chest was gold.
The second was silver.
The third was filled with gemstones.
The fourth contained spices—cardamom, cloves, and saffron.
The fifth held fine silks and velvets.
The sixth displayed exquisite armor and weapons.
And the seventh was filled with ancient, priceless wines.