After Petyr departed, Viserys began making the final preparations for the assault.
Clinton personally oversaw the operation as Hand of the King.
Arthur would lead the assault as the vanguard, while Davos took charge of moving supplies and coordinating every aspect of the army's logistics.
Had they been able to postpone the attack by another half month, their chances of success would have been significantly higher.
But time was no longer on their side.
More than half the known world wanted House Targaryen wiped from existence.
They coveted the wealth Gohor had accumulated over the years and the secret behind the rebirth of dragons.
More importantly, the growing strength of House Targaryen threatened far too many interests.
Braavos owed much of its prosperity to the endless turmoil across the continent.
Only when the inland powers fought one another did the city truly flourish.
Volantis faced a similar problem.
Trade between east and west increasingly relied upon the Dothraki Sea controlled by Viserys.
His open opposition to slavery and the slave trade struck at the very foundations of Volantis's social order.
As for Robert, there was even less to say.
As long as a single Targaryen remained alive, even an underage girl, he would never know peace.
Had R'hllor not intervened, all they could have done was watch Viserys steadily establish a Second Valyrian Empire under the banner of Valyria's rightful heir.
Now, however, with the Red God's support behind them, they finally saw a chance to strangle that empire before it could be born.
Fragrant incense mixed with the aroma of fine wine.
Bright candlelight shimmered across golden goblets and polished platters, while dancers in revealing costumes stirred the banquet hall into an ever warmer mood.
The guests resembled schools of fish gliding beneath rippling water as reflections danced across the room.
Prince Audro had invited the ruling magisters of Pentos to yet another feast within his palace.
Many found it strange.
He had hosted a banquet only a few days earlier.
Less than three days had passed before another was announced.
"Hmph. Ever since that fellow latched onto House Targaryen, he barely remembers who he is anymore."
One of the lean magisters spoke loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
He sat comfortably in the center of the gathering, as though he naturally belonged at the heart of every conversation.
True, they could no longer treat Audro as they once had.
But neither could Audro simply dispose of them.
After all, one-third of Pentos's city defenses remained under his control, and his family still oversaw maintenance of the city's massive walls.
The surrounding nobles eagerly echoed his sentiment.
"He's just a man who got rich overnight. Without the Targaryens, he'd be nothing."
"Once the Targaryens leave Essos, Pentos will belong to us again."
"Exactly. Sooner or later, it'll all be ours."
The men raised their goblets together, toasting that "not-too-distant" future.
"Speaking of the Targaryens," the lean magister continued, steering the conversation elsewhere.
"Viserys recently convinced the other Free Cities to expel the Red Priests. Why do you suppose he did that?"
A portly noble dressed in green replied:
"Didn't he claim he was avenging his ancestors who had been deceived by them?
Dragonlords have always been narrow-minded.
The Rhoynar only shot down three of their dragons, and the Valyrians answered by sending three hundred dragons to destroy their civilization."
"Is that really all there is to it?"
The lean magister slowly rolled his yellowish eyes across the room, clearly preparing to reveal something important.
Above all else, the rulers of Pentos were merchants. And merchants valued information.
Every cup stopped halfway to its owner's lips.
Some held their goblets frozen before their chests, while others no longer bothered drinking at all.
Every gaze settled upon him.
Every ear strained to catch his next words.
"Doesn't it strike you as odd?
House Targaryen has been in the east for nearly ten years.
During all that time, Viserys never showed the slightest hatred toward fire mages.
Yet after he supposedly died on Maiden's Mountain and returned from the flames, he immediately issued this order.
What exactly did he see up there?"
The suggestion instantly sparked curiosity throughout the hall.
Viserys's influence inside Pentos had grown steadily over the years.
Audro himself might as well have written "Targaryen lackey" across his forehead.
If Viserys truly despised fire mages, he could have acted years ago.
Even stranger, several years earlier he had taken in a Red Priestess devoted to R'hllor after she arrived in Gohor.
The more they considered it, the less sense his actions made.
"Just two days ago, a Red Priest came to see me. He claimed he could..."
Before the lean magister could finish, a sudden stir swept through the banquet hall.
"His Highness Prince Audro!"
"Long live Prince Audro!"
One of the men who had mocked Audro only moments earlier had just raised his goblet for another drink.
The instant he saw Audro entering beneath a canopy of attendants, he immediately set it down, sprang to his feet, and bowed respectfully, ignoring the disdainful looks from everyone around him.
Audro accepted the salute without hesitation.
As his authority had grown over the years, he had gradually embraced his role as Prince of Pentos.
More importantly, he had begun exercising the dignity and power that accompanied the title.
He found the feeling rather enjoyable.
Taking his seat at the head of the hall, Audro raised his goblet toward the assembled magisters.
They hurriedly rose to their feet.
Looking over them, Audro felt as though he were gazing into a pond filled with brightly colored goldfish swimming eagerly toward him.
"My lords," he began, "you may be wondering why I have invited you to another banquet only days after the last one."
"The answer is simple: We owe everything to His Grace, King Viserys.
Without his strength and wisdom, we'd still be sending tribute to those Dothraki khals.
Those gifts would only fund more barbaric feasts.
But thanks to His Grace, he has reclaimed what rightfully belonged to us.
We cannot fail to honor such generosity. May his reign endure forever."
"May his reign endure forever!"
The magisters echoed the toast and drained their cups.
Watching the scene before him, Audro suddenly felt an overwhelming impulse.
He wanted to tell them the truth.
Viserys would soon arrive with an army and capture Pentos. When that happened, he himself would no longer be Prince.
Under Targaryen rule, he would almost certainly lose much of the power he currently enjoyed.
Power was a poison. It drove men mad.
And once someone threatened to take it away, those already addicted could scarcely endure the thought.
Perhaps... If I warned them now... I could keep my throne after all.
His heart pounded violently. It felt as though his fate rested upon the tip of his tongue.
Then his eyes drifted toward an elderly harp player seated quietly against the wall.
The Ragged Prince.
Commander of the Windblown.
The princely title Audro now held had once rightfully belonged to that man.
There should have been one more magister family in Pentos.
Instead, when the Ragged Prince fled the city years ago, his entire house had been erased.
Audro looked again at the lean magister.
The mercenary commander had returned for one purpose alone.
Revenge.
If I betray Viserys...
I'll end up exactly like him.
The thought of the dragons growing stronger with every passing month banished his temptation.
Within ten years, Viserys's dragons would become creatures beyond imagination.
Even if Pentos somehow survived this attack...
The next one would come.
Far better to follow the original plan, keep the magisters distracted, and allow his family to prosper beneath Targaryen protection.
At Audro's signal, the festivities grew even livelier.
He cast a brief glance toward one of the guards standing beside the entrance.
The guard silently slipped away.
Meanwhile, the soldiers atop Pentos's walls continued their patrols.
In truth, few of them were paying much attention to their duties. Most had their eyes fixed on the distant military exercises outside the city.
To keep the defenders accustomed to the sight, the Targaryens even conducted drills after dark.
"They've been holding exercises almost every day lately," one middle-aged officer remarked. "Think of how much grain and equipment they're wasting."
His wife had recently given birth to their fourth child.
Money was tight, making him unusually sensitive to such things.
"Why worry about someone else's purse?" another officer laughed.
"That Targaryen king has more money than he knows what to do with.
I even heard he personally worked the fields because he thought they weren't producing enough grain.
They're training this hard because he's determined to reclaim the Iron Throne."
Just then, a soldier came running toward them.
"My lords! There's a fire near the harbor! Prince Audro has ordered men from your sector to assist with putting it out!"
"Our sector?" The officer looked toward the harbor.
Sure enough, flames lit the night sky.
"But the Targaryen army is camped right there. Do they really need troops from our wall?
"Oh, forget the Targaryens.
They've been sitting out there for two months. If they wanted to attack, they'd have done it already.
If we're blamed for failing to control the fire, we'll be the ones losing our positions."
The two officers exchanged glances.
The reasoning seemed sound.
They immediately withdrew more than half the men stationed along the walls and sent them toward the harbor.
Not one of them noticed Balerion circling silently overhead.
Elsewhere, Viserys emerged from his dragon vision and issued the order to advance.
Columns of Targaryen soldiers in black armor moved swiftly toward Pentos's towering walls, dragging ladders, siege equipment, and battering engines behind them.
Back inside the palace, the banquet continued in full swing.
As the guests drank and laughed, one of Audro's guards approached and whispered into his ear.
Almost simultaneously, the assembled magisters received reports from their own servants about the fire.
"Prince Audro," one of them said anxiously, "the harbor is burning. We must organize the city's defenses immediately."
The fire itself was not their greatest concern.
What truly worried them was the possibility that someone might exploit the chaos.
A blaze of this scale demanded that the entire city be placed on alert.
Audro merely leaned back in his chair, completely unruffled.
"What are you panicking for?" he said with a smile. "Keep the music playing. Keep the dancers dancing."
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