On the bay outside Pentos, there was a row of relatively spaced-out sleeping palaces, much like a beach villa area.
These palaces were prepared by the Pentoshi for important figures traveling to the Free Cities or for the dothraki Khals.
Many years ago, when the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen left, he and his wife Laena Velaryon also lived in Pentos for a long time.
Viserys's new palace was also located here, with seven tall towers rising from it, and pale ivy climbing its towering brick walls.
However, although these palaces were maintained by eunuchs and Unsullied servants, their occupancy rate was extremely low, and the Khals only occasionally stayed there for short periods.
Recently, due to the bloodshed caused by Khal Drogo's rise to power in the Great Grass Sea, fewer dothraki have left the dothraki Sea.
The Pentoshi valued Viserys's strength and presented him with a set of palaces.
"This palace is a gift from many Magisters," Magister Illyrio said. "This is a wonderful story, a true dragon returns to Pentos."
"That's truly a kind gesture," Viserys said unceremoniously.
The Pentoshi always preferred a firm hand; if they weren't strictly controlled, they would feel at a loss.
Viserys arranged for his soldiers to encamp nearby the palace.
"Recently, Khal Drogo's name has shaken the dothraki Great Grass Sea; it's a chaotic place. You'll find much more tranquility in this palace, without noisy neighbors," Magister Illyrio personally escorted Viserys to the entrance.
"That's good. I don't like those stinking dothraki," Viserys replied arrogantly. His primary bases, the andals and the rhoynar, had a blood feud with the Horse People, and a bloody war between them was inevitable.
"Actually, we aren't truly afraid of these barbarians," Illyrio explained to Viserys with a smile. "The Red Robe Priest assure us that with the blessing of the Lord of Light, even if a million dothraki attack, we need not fear—but since their friendship is so cheap, why not enjoy it?"
Viserys almost laughed out loud. These Magisters of the trade cities were quite good at praising themselves, but he couldn't be bothered to expose them.
"This way," Illyrio led the way.
Viserys followed behind him, with Unsullied guards still standing watch at the entrance.
The guards wore bronze helmets with spikes and carried spears.
Magister Illyrio's words were sweet as honey: "The Pentos city-state originally arranged a grand banquet for you within the city, but now it seems it will have to be held in this courtyard. Many important figures are already eager to witness the splendor of a true dragon."
Viserys was noncommittal, "The descendant of a true dragon is here; they should take a good look."
"Your Majesty is truly humorous," Illyrio chuckled.
The Unsullied opened the door, and Viserys and Illyrio entered the courtyard.
Inside the courtyard, expensive spices like chili, cinnamon, and sweet lemons were already being lit, each item costing a fortune.
Viserys and Illyrio first entered the reception hall, where colorful stained glass depicted the fall of Valyria.
Hugo and Gaelin followed behind Viserys, while Argos was responsible for arranging the other stationed knights.
"You can wait here for a moment; I assure you there will be a grand banquet tonight," Illyrio promised.
"Who will be attending?" Viserys inquired.
"They are all dignitaries of this great city, various Magisters, and also His Highness the Prince," Illyrio briefly introduced. "To avoid too many gossiping mouths, we will not invite other dignitaries."
"It seems this banquet will be much more enthusiastic than usual," Viserys said, very curious.
"If it were to entertain Horse People Khals, naturally there would be all sorts of people. But you are a true dragon, so the standard is naturally higher. Tonight's banquet will not have anyone untrustworthy. The Magisters have already ensured that no others will be present—no assassins and sellswords from Pentos, Myr, and Tyrosh, no Red Robe Priest fatter than myself, no hairy strange men from Ibben, no dark-skinned lords from the Summer Isles, and no brother of the Archon of Tyrosh. Their mouths are not tight."
"Very good. Then I also thank the Magisters for allowing me to meet the elite of this great city," Viserys's purple eyes held a peculiar beauty.
"It's my pleasure," Illyrio said, feigning flattery.
Night soon arrived, and with it, the grand feast.
The Unsullied eunuchs announced the arrival of guests in high-pitched voices. "Prince Luca Krauss of the Free City of Pentos, the first man of Pentos, who commands trade, war, and law."
Prince Luca's steps were light and unsteady, making him appear as if he were suffering from drink and debauchery.
Three heralds cleared the way for him, holding a golden scale symbolizing trade, an iron longsword symbolizing war, and a silver whip symbolizing law.
The Prince walked into the courtyard, filled with stone pillars and climbing pale ivy, where leaf shadows were tinged silver like bone by the moonlight.
The Prince of Pentos was chosen from forty noble families and was the nominal head of Pentos, responsible for presiding over ceremonies and sitting regally at balls and banquets.
The Prince of Pentos was actually a pitiful mascot; nominally, everyone still gave him some face.
But this Prince was well aware of his fate: to eat, drink, be a playboy, and pray for good weather.
Only one princely candidate in all these years had escaped his fate, running off to become a sellsword.
"Honorable King Viserys, welcome to Pentos," the Prince of Pentos said with a smile.
"It is an honor to be a guest in this great city," Viserys returned the courtesy.
At tonight's banquet, Viserys would sit at the head table with the Prince of Pentos.
Next came some of the Magisters.
"Magister Illyrio Mopatis of the Free City of Pentos." Illyrio was clearly an experienced Magister.
According to Viserys's observations, tasks like pimping and entertaining difficult guests—Khals, Khals, and adventurers—seemed to be Illyrio's usual work.
As an assassin who was once unknown, Illyrio's rise to this point was already a success.
However, the dream land Illyrio desired was even larger than the city-state of Pentos.
"Magister Audros Larris of the Free City of Pentos."
A defiant middle-aged Magister stepped forward and bowed to Viserys.
These Magisters, whether old, young, or middle-aged, almost all maintained a friendly demeanor towards Viserys.
After all, ever since being beaten into submission by Braavos, the doves had been the overwhelming majority in Pentos.
The Magisters saw a dazzling young silver knight, his silver scale armor shining brightly before their eyes, like the sun in the dark night... Viserys wore a black and red three-headed dragon robe over his silver armor, which, combined with his handsome, chiseled face and silver hair and purple eyes, made him appear even more in his prime.
Especially that kingly demeanor, the relaxed air of being at the pinnacle of power, no longer needing to feign anything; his mere presence already outshone the flabby prince.
The last vestiges of the Magisters' pride vanished. From his appearance and aura, King Viserys was undoubtedly a king and military leader not to be underestimated.
"May the Lord of Light protect our path, may Pentos prosper, and may King Viserys feel at home," the Prince of Pentos raised his glass first from the high platform.
"Prosperity!"
"Prosperity!"
All the wine glasses were raised, and the lavish banquet officially began.
Magister Illyrio clapped his hands, and the servants brought in the dishes.
First came crab and flat shark soup and chilled egg-lime soup, followed by honey-quail, roasted lamb chops, red wine-soaked foie gras, buttered radishes, and suckling pig.
The abundant offerings were dazzling, along with various fine wines.
Viserys, seeing the time was right, began to eat with gusto.
From his physique, this tall warrior ate more than his size would suggest, as if the Mountain himself were dining.
Viserys's core attributes were high, and he ate more than an ordinary knight.
"Your Majesty Viserys truly has an enormous capacity," the Prince of Pentos complimented enviously.
Handsome, a hearty eater, and able to enjoy the pleasures life offered.
Speaking of which, though the Prince held a high position, it was merely a facade; he could be dragged out and killed at any moment.
This magnificent palace, these beautiful women, were nothing more than his shackles.
"May I ask, Your Majesty Viserys, how many men do you command now?" Magister Audros asked the crucial question.
"Roughly twenty to thirty thousand?" Viserys said casually.
This was a typical exaggeration, but these Pentoshi wouldn't know the truth anyway.
Viserys would only have such a force if he combined all his regular troops, auxiliary soldiers, and peasant levies.
There was no other way; gathering a fragmented, village-based nation still required a great deal of effort.
At their peak, the rhoynar could field 250,000 troops against Valyria. The andals who previously invaded Westeros might have been fewer, but not by much.
This already indicated the war potential and vast resources of these two regions.
However, most andals had now migrated, and rhoynar civilization had declined.
Viserys, despite exhausting his efforts to gather the remaining population and incorporating escaped slaves, could only slowly increase his military strength.
Unifying a fragmented nation was itself a process of recovery; the population base could not reach its past levels, otherwise, fielding half a million soldiers would be too miraculous.
Even so, raising an army of tens of thousands seemed to lay the foundation for a powerful regime.
"Phew, that's already more than the Golden Company," the Magisters whispered among themselves.
The Viserys's guards they saw outside and inside the mansion, with their bright armor and menacing aura, were clearly a formidable army.
If all of Viserys's army was like this, then Pentos would be a mere trifle.
The Golden Company lived on commissions and, as a century-old establishment, had substantial savings.
Viserys, so young yet commanding such a powerful army, had his value significantly elevated.
"Let us toast to the King of the andals, the rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals and the Rhoyne River, Viserys Targaryen III. Let us celebrate our new friend!" The Prince of Pentos raised his glass and declared dramatically.
The crimson wine was like blood; every sip of this century-old vintage from the Arbor tasted of money.
"To His Majesty Viserys!"
"To His Majesty Viserys!"
"If we hadn't been so terribly oppressed, we could have given His Majesty Viserys even more gifts."
A Magister emphasized, as if tipsy, intentionally or unintentionally.
Viserys feigned surprise, "What does that mean?"
"It's the unequal treaty imposed upon us by the Braavosi. We paid war reparations and became an undefended city," Magister Audros said with a grim expression.
"You must also be careful, Your Majesty. The resurgence of the Andal lands will touch upon Braavos's sphere of influence."
Viserys merely listened; this was blatant provocation.
You want me to fight Braavos? As if I don't have enough trouble already, right?
"Speaking of which, the Sealord of Braavos is my patron; his kindness is immense," Viserys said with emotion.
"That was the old Sealord. We all know the new Sealord strictly forbade the Iron Bank from lending you money, Your Majesty. If someone restricts your actions, how can they be considered a friend?"
"But my Andal people are now weary, and I need a large quantity of armor and weapons, esteemed wealthy Magisters," Viserys said bluntly.
To deal with my beloved friends and relatives, pay more.
"That's not a problem," Magister Audros chuckled. "As long as we can maintain a good friendship."
The Magisters were also willing to provide money and equipment, hoping that a well-equipped young king might take a bite out of Braavos.
They understood such young men too well: arrogant, fearless, outwardly grateful, but inwardly like venomous scorpions and vipers.
Such young men were the easiest to instigate.
Viserys didn't bother to acknowledge the hint, simply continuing to eat and drink.
The Magisters, however, secretly gloated. As long as the seed of rebellion was planted in the young king's heart, he would eventually clash with Braavos.
Viserys looked at these useless, incompetent Magisters, who had no desire for revenge but were eager to stir up trouble.
Viserys had a bold and crazy idea: since Pentos always gave away so much money, why not keep it all for himself?
If he could wipe out the dothraki Khals, wouldn't all that money be his?
If many people came begging, they'd get less, but if only he, Viserys, came for the money, he would definitely earn much more.
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