Oberyn had only just departed with the supplies purchased using Pentoshi loans when Ock led his troops to wipe out the remaining Andal bandits.
Soon after, thirty to forty thousand Andals submitted themselves to the Targaryen rule.
This meant Pentos, like Braavos, had suddenly lost the agents they had cultivated in Gohor for many years.
They quickly understood what had happened.
The news landed like a deep-water explosion among the merchant-governors, causing an uproar.
Their earlier support of Viserys had been based on the assumption that the Targaryen would serve as a new, stronger proxy for Pentos in Gohor—nothing more.
Their goal was to use Viserys as leverage against Braavos, gaining an upper hand in the rivalry between the two city-states.
They had never intended for him to conquer all of Gohor outright.
"Gohor is about to become Targaryen territory. I don't think I need to explain the consequences of a single power controlling such a vital crossroads."
The speaker was a governor of Valyrian blood.
He had once felt some sympathy for the Targaryens because of it—but only so long as his interests remained untouched.
Now everything was different.
If Viserys gained full control of Gohor, he would wield absolute authority over river trade and tolls. This would inevitably affect their profits.
Perhaps for the moment the newly established Targaryen regime would promise low tolls.
But once they grew stronger, would they not complain that their share of the cake was too small?
"No matter our past disagreements with Braavos, preventing a fully unified Gohor is in the interest of both our cities. I propose we send envoys to Braavos and pressure the Targaryen together!"
At this point, even Illyrio dared not intervene openly.
If Viserys wholly controlled Gohor, Pentos losing some trade profits would be nothing compared to the real danger—his own life.
There was only one solution now: force out the mysterious advisor behind the Targaryen victories.
Only by eliminating that man could Illyrio finally sleep soundly. Thus, his proposal received swift support.
But Audro could not accept this direction.
The Targaryens had shown him goodwill more than once. Though the aid they promised felt abstract and uncertain, it was still his only hope.
Audro feared that someday, should disaster strike, these greedy governors might appease public anger by throwing him onto an altar as a sacrificial scapegoat.
Even more, he did not want to see his only possible allies crushed.
But Audro had never offered an opinion on major matters—not even a suggestion.
So when he opened his mouth now, it felt as though an invisible hand clutched his throat. He could not speak for a long while.
"I agree. We should send envoys to Braavos at once and pressure the Targaryen."
Audro turned to see who spoke.
An elderly governor, one of the most powerful in Pentos.
"I agree as well. We must not allow the Targaryen to monopolize Gohor."
Another governor—a middle-aged man who looked like a stick insect hollowed out by wine and women—added his voice.
Audro had suspicions about him.
Both of Audro's wives had been arranged by that very same governor, and ever since the wedding day, the man's gaze toward him had been unsettling.
But he kept that to himself.
Now, however, Audro sensed that if he wanted to win even a sliver of support for the Targaryen—and for his own survival—this might be his only chance.
"...Honored governors," Audro began, forcing down his fear.
"Perhaps we should contact some mercenary companies… what about the Wild Wolf Company? They once came to Essos because they refused to submit to the Targaryen."
[AN: Governors are talking among themselves, ignoring Audro]
He didn't know whether no one heard him—or if they simply chose to ignore him. Or perhaps this silence itself was a warning from those who held true power.
His heart drummed painfully in his chest.
"But we should consult Braavos first.
They still have merchant ships on the Upper Rhoyne. Perhaps they can aid us in blockading the Targaryen—forcing them to cough up what they swallowed."
'A fleet… blockade…' Audro realized the severity of this.
Braavos's flotilla on the Upper Rhoyne was small, but compared to the Targaryen—who had not a single warship—it was an overwhelming threat.
With warships, Braavos could strike anywhere along the river. They would hold the initiative.
And the Targaryen, in trying to defend everywhere, would eventually exhaust themselves.
He could not wait any longer. He had to buy them time.
"Honored governors!"
This time he nearly shouted the words.
The room fell strangely silent. Several governors stared at him as one might stare at a decorative statue that suddenly spoke.
Curiosity mixed with mild confusion.
Only the elderly governor failed to maintain his composure and released a long, rumbling fart.
The sound drew every eye. To the governors, even that fart seemed to carry more weight than Audro's courage.
Audro pinched his thigh and forced himself on.
"Honored governors, Prince Oberyn once complained to me that Viserys stole his nephew's birthright.
My point is: the Targaryens are divided internally. Perhaps we could take advantage of this. A softer, more economical approach—no need to go straight to war."
His words finally made some governors thoughtful. They were merchants, after all.
Merchants hated war.
The insect-like governor asked, "Is your information reliable?"
"It's reliable! Oberyn told me while drunk," Audro answered, his voice trembling with excitement at finally being heard.
Illyrio knew this information already but had chosen not to share it. Now that Audro had, Illyrio could do nothing but swallow his displeasure.
"Then why didn't you tell us earlier?" the stick-like governor asked coldly.
Audro's heart leapt into his throat. "Because he said it while drunk… I wanted time to confirm it."
His excuse was accepted for now.
Some governors began to consider using this internal Targaryen tension—perhaps supporting Young Aegon, or even Oberyn as a candidate proxy.
"We can send someone to make contact with Oberyn—and also dispatch envoys to Braavos," the elderly governor said.
Audro let out a tiny breath of relief.
At least his suggestion had been accepted. The Targaryen would gain time.
He had done everything he could.
His back was drenched with sweat, though he forced himself to remain still and composed.
Before envoys were sent to Braavos, they would secretly reach out to Oberyn first.
The governors believed Viserys could not be ousted immediately. Gohor would soon return to a three-way balance.
If they could win Oberyn early, they might secure advantages in the future.
Audro listened as the room buzzed with new calculations and schemes. He could no longer help Viserys.
Just as he thought he might finally take a breath—
A herald's voice rang from outside:
"Envoy of Braavos—arriving!"
The noble who entered was Corren, a distant cousin of Freygo—the same man who had previously met with Viserys.
He had come for one purpose: to join Pentos in pressuring Viserys and force him to disgorge everything he had gained.
Guided by attendants, Corren took his seat and addressed the governors.
"Honored governors, I come on behalf of the Sealord, to cooperate with Pentos in resolving the matter of Gohor."
The governors straightened at once. Viserys's forces were strong; Pentos alone might not be able to pressure him.
They might even suffer an embarrassing failure.
But now Braavos had joined them. Braavos—with thrice the wealth and thrice the power of Pentos.
Whatever tricks Viserys had used to defeat Gohor and the Rhoynar meant little before overwhelming force.
Audro, however, felt his strength draining away.
Braavos was far too terrifying.
If they wished, they could raise one hundred thousand soldiers at any time.
How could Viserys survive this?
Where would he flee? To the Norvos Mountains? Or flee with his fleet to Qohor?
Despair made Audro strangely calm.
His mind sharpened; his thoughts drifted.
Meanwhile, Braavos's arrival inspired new ideas in Illyrio.
"Lord Corren, honored governors, I believe we need not shed blood at all.
Viserys's mother is still on Dragonstone.
We can use that to pressure him—"
Illyrio scanned the room with a knowing smile.
Robert was poor.
Braavos was not.
Braavos had warships—their famed shipyards were said to build a new warship in a single day.
But Corren rejected the idea.
"Governor, a distant expedition is costly.
And Dragonstone has very few people now.
Their remaining ships could evacuate everyone easily. Viserys will certainly have thought of this."
Illyrio smiled and nodded as if in agreement. But he was already planning to send word to Robert.
Robert would gladly seize any chance to attack Dragonstone.
And once he learned the true state of the island, he would not be able to sit still.
___________
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