Illyrio had never seen someone so brazen.
At that moment, Viserys had one foot planted in a washbasin, calmly washing it. His legs were spread casually as he looked straight at Illyrio, completely at ease.
"Your Majesty…"
"One million."
Illyrio's heart skipped a beat. That number was exactly what he had casually thrown out when he had pressured Oswell earlier.
"Your Majesty, I am here to—"
"One million. No million, no discussion."
Over the past two days, Viserys had learned exactly what kind of pressure Oswell had endured in his absence.
He intended to get this breath of anger back, no matter what.
Illyrio was momentarily speechless.
He took out a small box and presented it forward.
Marcus accepted the exquisitely crafted box, opened it, and displayed its contents to Viserys. Inside were all the contracts for supplies that Oberyn had purchased on credit.
"Your Majesty, all previous debts will be wiped clean. What do you think?"
Viserys reached out, pushed the box aside, and continued staring into Illyrio's eyes.
"Mm, not bad. But where is my one million?"
'Is this never going to end?!'
Illyrio roared inwardly, yet he did not dare let even half a syllable escape his lips.
"Then… I have brought Your Majesty a gift. One that I am certain you will like. Perhaps you would like to take a look first?"
As he spoke, a servant behind Illyrio stepped forward, carrying a much larger box.
When it was opened, three dragon eggs were revealed. One black, one green, one silvery white.
Marcus and the others could barely tear their eyes away.
Viserys rose barefoot, picked up the large black egg in the middle, and examined it carefully.
Its night-sky black surface seemed to swallow all surrounding light. The diamond-shaped patterns along its edges were faintly translucent, like scattered stars in the darkness.
The fossilized egg was heavy in his hands, cool to the touch, and strangely comforting.
Viserys handed the egg to Marcus, whose hands trembled as he received it.
"Gods… dragon eggs. These are dragon eggs…"
Marcus felt as though the world were spinning.
Viserys then picked up the silver egg.
It gleamed with the same sheen as the Targaryens' signature silver hair, with two small whirl-like patterns on its surface.
In the original course of history, this silver egg would have hatched into a dragon named Viserion.
Finally, Viserys looked once more at the green egg. No matter how long he stared, it never seemed enough.
Illyrio carefully watched Viserys's expression.
The knot in his chest slowly loosened.
It seemed that no Targaryen could resist the temptation of dragons.
Even if they were only eggs. Even if they were merely fossilized remains, incapable of hatching.
Seeing the barely restrained smile at the corner of Viserys's lips, Illyrio smiled as well.
"Very good, Lord Illyrio. I like your gift very much—" Viserys paused, then added, "—but where is my one million?"
Illyrio knew there was no escaping it. Gritting his teeth, he said, "As long as Your Majesty spares our army, the money can be delivered to you very soon."
Barefoot, Viserys walked up to Illyrio.
Illyrio bent even lower at the waist.
Viserys laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
"Hahaha, Lord Illyrio, the one million was just a joke. After all, we are facing a common enemy now—Braavos. Don't you agree?"
Illyrio's expression froze mid-flattery.
He finally understood what Viserys was planning.
Viserys wanted to bind Pentos and Gohor together, to jointly oppose Braavos.
"Your Majesty, Braavos is powerful. We—"
"That is exactly why we must stand united!"
Viserys grasped Illyrio's hand, his expression earnest.
"The Targaryens have no ports. Pentos has no fleet. As long as we work together, we have nothing to fear from Braavosi aggression.
Oh, and by the way—don't they still have quite a few ships docked at Pentos?"
After all, his mother was still on Dragonstone. And there were fifty warships there.
Illyrio fully grasped Viserys's intent.
If Pentos merely withdrew its army, there was nothing to stop it from later joining hands with Braavos to attack Gohor again.
Joining Viserys's camp and turning against the Braavosi army would be Pentos's pledge of loyalty.
Of course, quietly swallowing the Braavosi ships docked at Pentos would achieve the same result.
Under Pentos's treaty with Braavos, there were strict limits on the number of warships it could possess.
Accepting Viserys's fleet would mean tearing up that treaty outright.
Illyrio suddenly realized— Pentos had now become the buffer zone.
They had once wanted the Targaryens to serve as a buffer between Pentos and Braavos.
Now there was no choice.
Losing twenty thousand soldiers, Pentos could still conscript new ones—but their quality would be questionable, and its sphere of influence would shrink further.
And Viserys did not have to choose Pentos.
He could just as easily ally with Braavos, wipe out the Pentoshi army, then turn around and carve up Pentos itself.
Even if war broke out again in the future, Viserys would at least gain several years of preparation time.
Moreover, with a fleet guarding Gohor, it would take no fewer than a hundred thousand troops to breach it.
"Very well. I understand all of Your Majesty's conditions," Illyrio said slowly.
"Please allow me to relay them to Prince Audro. But before that, I beg you—have mercy and grant the soldiers some water."
"No problem," Viserys replied cheerfully.
"Clement," he called.
"Your Majesty."
"Go with Lord Illyrio. Escort him safely to the Pentoshi camp and convey my regards to Prince Audro."
"By your command, Your Majesty."
Watching the scene unfold, Illyrio felt something stir within him.
It seemed Viserys might even harbor ambitions of controlling Pentos itself. If that was the case, he would need to make preparations early.
Audro had ruled as Prince of Pentos for over a decade.
Perhaps it was time for a change.
Yet Viserys suddenly turned back, as if he had seen straight through Illyrio's thoughts.
"One more thing," Viserys said calmly.
"Prince Audro is a good friend of mine. I'm a bit superstitious, you see.
If he were to be struck by lightning one day, or choke to death while eating, or drown while bathing—"
"I would hold every magister of Pentos responsible. All prior agreements would be void. Do you understand?"
For an instant, Illyrio felt as though Viserys's purple eyes had become sharp, vertical pupils— like a dragon ready to devour him in the next breath.
"I… I understand, Your Majesty. Prince Audro is always attended by specialists. Nothing like that will happen.
I— I guarantee it."
"Good. That's for the best. Go now—don't keep the soldiers waiting."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Yes."
Illyrio wiped the cold sweat from his brow and turned to leave.
At that moment, however, a guard entered and reported, "Your Majesty, the Braavosi envoy, Quairo Valentyn, requests an audience."
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