A cavalry of over a thousand men was stationed around Swanport. The knights of the Andals and the rhoynar stood silent as a forest, their light and heavy armor gleaming with a dazzling luster.
The Dothraki Screamers were actually quite shocked to see such a well-disciplined army.
After all, they had mostly fought slippery mercenary bands before—the kind that would flee at the first sign of trouble—rather than a perfect regular army.
There were many Unsullied in Qohor, so the Dothraki did not easily go looking for trouble there.
Morroq's subordinates were even more fearful upon seeing the Dothraki Screamers and Viserys's armored knights.
They had originally thought the Screamers of the dothraki Sea were invincible under heaven, but they hadn't expected the long-declining peoples of the Andals and the rhoynar to be so valiant under Viserys's leadership, even slaying the Khal Gilo.
The people of Myr were originally mediocre sailors and warriors, known primarily for their shortswords and poisons.
The mercenary fleet led by Morroq, having survived a hundred battles, was actually considered a very high-tier fighting force for Myr.
But seeing this regular army, the mercenary sailors lacked even a shred of courage to face them head-on.
Viserys wore a black surcoat with a red dragon over his silver armor. His already tall frame appeared as majestic as a mountain, imbued with a layer of sacred radiance.
Morroq had a premonition that Viserys would sooner or later become the tallest mountain in Essos, reaching the pinnacle of power step by step.
His prospects in Myr were already gone; after all these years, he was still just the commander of a mercenary fleet. The Myr Magisters were wealthy but also full of status-based discrimination. Now, this was a perfect opportunity to come ashore and go legitimate.
Viserys looked at Swanport, the small harbor in the cove. Currently, it consisted only of a few small tower buildings and a group of sculptures depicting a hero slaying a Swan Maiden.
But a trickling stream will inevitably gather into a great river.
In the past, King's Landing was just the site of a small fishing village. It was the administrative power of Aegon the Conqueror that allowed that port to grow wildly into the greatest city.
And he, Viserys, would also possess such world-shaping power, where his word became law.
Power would surge at his fingertips; this was why millions fanatically pursued it.
Viserys looked around; the black-and-red dragon banners were already fluttering here.
The first things built at Swanport were a small pier for merchant ships, a Sept of the Seven, a foreign sailor's temple for the gods of Myr, and a formal town hall.
Next would be the castle of the main city. Inside the castle, there would be stables, an armory, barracks, towers, a sept, a library, and more.
"Your Majesty, there is still much lacking here. But with Your Majesty's support and heavenly might, I believe it will be completely transformed sooner or later," Morroq guided. "With a port, there will soon be a fish market, a cloth market, customs, taverns, houses frequented by loose women, and residential areas. This is the inevitable progression of urban development."
Viserys was also very satisfied. "The construction here has been incredibly fast; Morroq, you deserve great credit. However, I want a clean city—do not let it become as foul-smelling as King's Landing."
"As you command, Your Majesty," Morroq promised.
In truth, Viserys's considerations were a bit premature, as the population limits and the siphoning effect of Viserysgrad meant that even if Swanport developed into a major port, it wouldn't be excessively massive.
Swanport was more likely to become a beautiful seaside city like Gulltown.
"You've worked hard." Viserys looked at the Myrman Morroq, who was at the golden age for a smuggling fleet commander. "I didn't expect you to not only know the maritime trade routes like the back of your hand but also have such insights into town construction."
"A good captain is, first and foremost, a good planner," Morroq said humbly.
Though the commander of a mercenary fleet required payment, the fleet truly did have some skill.
"Merit must be rewarded." Viserys clapped his hands, and Krell and Hugo carried a chest to Morroq.
"This is what you deserve." Viserys had the Myrman open the chest, which was filled with various gold and silver coins.
Mostly they were coins from Pentos, but there were also Braavosi Golden Titans, Westerosi Gold Dragons, Silver Stags, and so on.
Viserys was making good use of his resources; the money he had obtained in Pentos was being converted into the gratitude of others.
Money is just money; how it is spent is the key.
The Pentos Magisters clung to their piles of gold, unaware that money could be exchanged for loyalty and power.
Viserys now had a force of longships capable of navigating rivers, but he sorely lacked an ocean-going fleet, which was why he valued Morroq.
Morroq's mercenary fleet also had a reputation; it was no wonder he was selected by The Onion Knight. He was a top-tier smuggler on par with The Onion Knight and the Pirate Prince of Lys, Saan.
Now The Onion Knight had gone ashore to join Stannis, and the Lysene pirate's price was too high and he was too slippery—Lysene people held multiple identities, being smugglers, merchants, bankers, and notorious pirates all at once. They belonged to everyone, yet no one could fully trust them.
Furthermore, that person was the one who had a private relationship with Magister Illyrio; the Fat Magister had a stake in the Lysene Prince's flagship.
Choosing between the three, Viserys's current option was the Myrman Morroq.
And Morroq was currently on the fringes of Myr's upper society. Even though he dominated the seas, his sailors were fiercely loyal to him, and his fleet's combat power was fierce.
But restricted by his birth and connections, he had never been able to break into the circles of the Myr Magisters. To put it bluntly, he was just a useful tool.
In this regard, both Morroq and The Onion Knight were people from the lower-class slums, finding it incredibly difficult to climb upward.
In contrast, Salladhor Saan came from a prominent background; his family had been pirates for at least three hundred years, were filthy rich, and had extensive maritime experience. Samarro Saan had been a member of the notorious Band of Nine.
The eyes of Morroq's crew turned red with excitement; they had traveled thousands of miles for wealth, and now it was all worth it.
The resentment of working in this godforsaken place had vanished instantly. After all, His Majesty Viserys gave truly too much; in addition to the original pay, there were now bonuses.
"This is my duty to Your Majesty; I cannot take this money," Morroq quickly declined. By opening up a major client like Viserys, he had already made a lot of money; taking these additional rewards seemed a bit greedy.
"Take it, Commander. This is a gift from King Viserys. A man walks the world based on loyalty and friendship; do not be as indecisive as the women in the taverns," Viserys laughed.
"I shall be grateful for your grace," Morroq quickly knelt on the ground in thanks. "This is the King's bounty, a grace beyond your wages. All who work with me, come and take it! Remember to take according to your workload; do not let me find any slackers or thieves taking extra, or I will nail your hands through."
The sailors and master craftsmen took the money in order, while Morroq himself took not a single coin.
"Viserys the Builder!"
"Viserys the Builder!"
The sailors and craftsmen cheered Viserys's name. After all, Viserys truly could be crowned with this title.
Viserysgrad, Swanport—Viserys would build even more cities.
Seeing Morroq act in this manner, Viserys already had a plan in mind.
"Walk with me, Commander," Viserys said.
"It is my honor, Your Majesty," Morroq nodded.
Morroq followed Viserys to a small green hill, where they looked out together at the vast blue sea.
"Are you and The Onion Knight good friends?" Viserys asked.
"Yes, me, The Onion Knight, and Saan," Morroq said. "Actually, I don't like Saan; he's too flamboyant and, after all, a noble."
"Back when I was young and starving to death in the slums of Myr, someone asked me, 'Kid, do you want to get on a boat?' And so, smuggling became the only thing I was good at. Later, one day my captain was caught by Pentos customs officials and had his head chopped off, so I took over that ship to keep making a living. I've always dealt with the sea," Morroq said dreamily. "I am certain that my knowledge of ships, oars, sails, and coasts is preeminent among the Free Cities. But I didn't know when I could ever come ashore."
"Now I only hope to keep working hard and see how much of a legacy I can leave. The Onion Knight went ashore and became a true Knight, while Saan has always kept his Pirate Prince airs. Only I seem destined to live as a mercenary fleet commander," the Myrman lamented.
"What we call a legacy is what we leave to our children in the future," Viserys said. "Now I have a new ship; I wonder if you are willing to come aboard. The risk is a bit higher, but the profit is also very high."
"What ship is it?" Morroq asked curiously.
"The ship I speak of is my crown, my cause, my kingdom." Viserys looked at Morroq, his pale purple eyes burning with something called ambition—it was a fire ablaze.
Morroq looked at Viserys, his heart surging, feeling truly won over by his charisma.
Viserys's silver armor was so magnificent. Then Morroq knelt on the ground. "When you gave me that chest of gold coins, I had already made up my mind—it wasn't for the money, but for the respect. The Myr Magisters never learned to speak to me like that in their lives, and the Andalos is a world without escaped slaves.
My path in Myr has reached its end; the Myr Magisters would never allow the son of an escaped slave, a smuggler and a mud-child from the slums, to ascend to a throne. But now, I believe there is a new path, and I am as nervous as I was years ago when I was bleeding on the deck. I am willing to pledge my loyalty to King Viserys's cause, offering my blood, my soul, and my courage."
Viserys drew his sword and pressed it onto the Myrman's shoulder. "I promise you, what I give you will be far more than what the Myr Magisters ever bestowed. The Myrmen are left in the old world; let those decaying Magisters tremble.
As for me, I shall create a new world born from blood and fire."