The sky glowed a deep crimson, as though a vast red curtain had been stretched across the heavens.
Beneath the scarlet sky lay an endless expanse of white sand.
Red skies.
White desert.
And in the distance stood a magnificent Temple of the Lord of Light.
There was nothing else.
Atop a sand dune, Benerro waited for his spies to return with their report.
Dressed in a crimson robe embroidered with golden flames, he stood with calm composure, like a deity awaiting the worship of mortals.
The attendants around him were equally solemn.
Benerro had no doubts that the spies would obtain the intelligence they sought.
Nearly every follower of the Red God had entered this world created by the Lord of Light.
Having witnessed it with their own eyes, their devotion had reached an unprecedented level.
Most of the Lord of Light's followers had already accepted death.
Especially the poor and humble among them.
Their methods of gathering intelligence were as ruthless as they were effective.
The moment they acquired valuable information, they could simply take their own lives and deliver the report directly to Benerro.
Soon, several figures appeared near the sand dune.
They were all Red Priests.
When they had died, they had been wearing ordinary civilian clothes.
Yet after entering this world, they now wore crimson robes. Unlike Benerro and the others, however, their bodies were translucent.
It was proof that they had entered this realm through suicide.
"My Lord," one of the Red Priests said with a respectful bow.
Their mission had been to determine the true strength of Gohor and provide the information needed for the future operations of the Allied Armies of the World.
"My lord, we've successfully uncovered the basic strength of Viserys's army, as well as a portion of his military supplies."
"However... we never managed to see his dragons. Viserys keeps them inside his palace. We couldn't get in."
The priest lowered his head apologetically.
"Then report what you've learned," Benerro replied calmly.
He showed neither regret nor sorrow for their sacrifice.
To die for the Lord of Light's cause was the highest honor.
"Gohor currently maintains more than thirty thousand standing troops," the priest began.
"It also has over forty thousand reservists. Nearly half of the Dothraki have become Viserys's vassals."
"In wartime, they can field another cavalry force of roughly thirty thousand riders."
As the report continued, everyone present grew increasingly alarmed.
Less than ten years.
In under a decade, House Targaryen had risen from exiled fugitives to the dominant power of an entire region.
Such strength was enough to challenge any single Free City without fear.
Indeed, it was the Free Cities that now feared them.
"Continue," Benerro ordered.
"The standing army is divided into three primary corps.
The elite Dragonrider Corps.
The Heavy Infantry Corps.
And the Garrison Corps."
Benerro frowned.
He wasn't satisfied. Something important was missing.
"What about the Targaryen Longbow Corps? Why isn't it listed among the standing army?"
He could never forget those archers.
After all, they had nearly killed him.
"My lord," the priest explained, "every soldier in Viserys's Dragonrider Corps is also a longbowman."
"The men who ambushed us that day were Dragonriders."
He continued, "Viserys requires every young adult in Gohor to undergo archery training."
"You could say that everyone in Gohor is a longbowman."
"Everyone... is a longbowman..."
Benerro felt his heart skip a beat.
He realized he had underestimated Viserys once again.
When Viserys ordered the people of Gohor to train in archery, he naturally had not equipped them with expensive yew longbows.
They practiced with ordinary bows.
The true number of longbowmen depended on how many yew war bows he possessed.
At present, his armories contained more than sixty thousand yew longbows.
The priest then moved on to describe Viserys's reserve forces.
In peacetime, they worked the fields while receiving regular military training. As compensation, they enjoyed reduced taxes.
Whenever war came, they could immediately become cavalry, infantry, or spearmen.
Their military discipline and combat ability were said to rival the standing armies of the other Free Cities.
Much of that success was thanks to the Royal Military Academy established by Viserys, which continuously produced trained officers and soldiers.
Benerro finally understood.
Including the Dothraki, Viserys could assemble an army of well over one hundred thousand men whenever he wished.
'He must be eliminated as soon as possible...'
Benerro hardly dared imagine how powerful Viserys would become once he fully developed the Golden Fields and every stretch of land under his rule.
Even now, Benerro still couldn't understand why Viserys had launched his attack.
The first time the young king had visited Volantis, he had sought Benerro's support.
Surely he wouldn't turn against him simply because that support had not been given.
Officially, Viserys had declared that the assault was revenge for the Red Priests' attempt to manipulate the Targaryen king.
But Benerro's instincts told him there was another reason.
Viserys's true goal was reclaiming the Iron Throne.
Making enemies of the Lord of Light's followers beforehand only complicated that objective.
If he intended to settle old scores, he should have waited until after Robert had been defeated.
Benerro was convinced that Viserys was not the sort of man who failed to distinguish priorities.
Otherwise, he could never have become the master of the Rhoyne in less than ten years.
After learning the basics of Viserys's military strength, Benerro asked another question.
"What about Modro? Was he captured?"
"Yes, my lord. He was captured as well."
"But he said he wanted to meet Viserys first. He also intends to see how much the dragons have grown before..."
The priest trailed off.
A trace of regret appeared in Benerro's eyes.
He had personally raised Modro from childhood.
Although the boy had been trained as a loyal operative willing to die for the cause, they had spent many years together.
It was impossible not to have formed an attachment.
It seemed Modro intended to seize the opportunity to glimpse the dragons before sacrificing himself and delivering that information back to him.
Still, Benerro remained unconcerned.
No matter how quickly dragons matured, only a little more than three months had passed since their hatching.
They could not possibly have grown into true dragons yet.
At most...
They were merely magical beasts.
"Very well. May your souls find their place beneath the throne of the Lord of Light."
Only after receiving every scrap of their intelligence did Benerro finally offer them those words of praise.
The Red Priests bowed one final time.
Their translucent forms slowly began to rise.
Higher...
Higher...
They drifted through the crimson clouds overhead before finally dissolving into the red heavens themselves.
Perhaps it was only an illusion.
But after their souls disappeared into the sky, Benerro thought the crimson heavens looked just a little deeper in color.
He decided to remain there a while longer.
He would wait for Modro's report.
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