In the council chamber of the White Keep atop Viserys Hill.
The lamps on the sconces were lit, casting a warm glow. Unlike the bustling day, the chamber at night held a quiet, solemn atmosphere.
Viserys Targaryen sat upon the oak throne on the dais, wearing his crown of seven gems set in gold. The high back of the throne was carved in the likeness of three roaring dragons.
Behind him hung a great banner: the red three-headed dragon on a field of black.
Flanking Viserys were his trusted men: the Andals—Donnel Stone, Aggo, and Hugo—and the Rhoynar warrior Garin, standing as the King's sworn shields.
Garin and Donnel Stone were meticulously inspecting the contraband arms delivered by Morosh the Myrman, ensuring every crate contained quality goods.
This was their first collaboration, after all, and trust had to be earned.
The shipment included Myrish crossbows, lenses, firewine, firepowder, and throwing spears.
The Myrish were not known as warmongers. They were indifferent sailors and soft soldiers, preferring not to do their own fighting. Their favored weapons were daggers, short swords, and crossbows—often poisoned.
This reflected the mentality of many Free City citizens: war was beneath them, a job for sellswords or slave soldiers.
However, Myr had its strengths. The Myrish prided themselves on their "artisan spirit," and their exquisite craftsmanship often set the fashion trends of Essos.
Morosh declared proudly, "King Viserys, you may inspect every single item. I guarantee they are flawless. This is my reputation, and the reputation of Myrish goods."
"A good man of the sea, Morosh of Myr. I always bring comfort to my friends and earn a meager profit in return. The gold I make is little compared to the risk of losing my head. My old friend, the Onion Knight, faced such a fate. His first captain lost his head to the Night's Watch of Westeros."
Viserys thought Morosh was full of it. These smugglers were desperate, greedy adventurers who valued gold over their lives.
Smugglers evaded taxes and peddled contraband. If caught by customs officers or city watches, they faced the noose. The profits they made were naturally exorbitant.
"I know the tale of Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight," Viserys said. "In his youth, he sailed as a crewman on the Cobblecat under the Tyroshi, Roro Uhoris. Roro sailed past the Wall to trade weapons with the wildlings in exchange for furs and other valuables. Later, he was executed by the angry Night's Watch on his own deck, his goods confiscated. Davos was spared only because of his youth."
"I did not expect Your Grace to know the story of my old friend. Highborn Westerosi usually look down on men of such low birth. Even though his talents surpass many lords, to them he is merely a landed knight," Morosh said, genuinely surprised.
Prejudice is a mountain in the human heart, especially in the feudal society of Westeros.
"Davos Seaworth is now the favored bannerman of Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships. How could I not take note of him? It is merely knowing one's enemy. Furthermore, you will find I am not a traditional Westerosi. I prefer to use true talent, not wineskins filled with noble blood."
"The Dragon has its own way. I believe our partnership will be very fruitful," Morosh said.
Viserys had squeezed the Myrman's profit margins, but Morosh accepted it happily. The volume of the order was large, and the route was safe.
"I admire men of talent like you," Viserys continued. "It is said that like the Onion Knight, you know every coastline, every wind, and every tide."
"All for survival," Morosh said humbly.
Viserys needed Morosh's smuggling network. He even entertained thoughts of poaching men from the wildlings beyond the Wall, though the risk was too high for now.
"This cargo of yours could make the Tyroshi very angry," Viserys joked.
"Ever since the war between the Three Daughters many years ago, we have been enemies. We are no longer on the same path. The sisters squabble endlessly; we grew up with it. If you were to teach the Archon of Tyrosh a small lesson, the people of Lys and Myr would be delighted," Morosh shrugged.
This was the reality of the Three Daughters. Since the Daughters' War ended in 134 AC, the three cities had parted ways, their endless disputes over the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones keeping many a sellsword company fed.
Among the three, Myr generally adopted a policy of caution and neutrality. Myrishmen weren't great fighters, and they had suffered the most in the old wars.
If Viserys were to thrash Tyrosh, the other two cities would merely watch and applaud.
"To demonstrate my friendship with King Viserys, I have brought two humble gifts," Morosh announced.
"Bring them forward!"
Four burly, olive-skinned Myrish sailors carried a massive tapestry into the hall.
Tapestry weaving had a long history in Myr, and ancient tapestries were priceless treasures.
"Not just for profit, but to make a friend of you, King Viserys," Morosh said humbly.
When the tapestry was unrolled on the floor, Viserys realized it was an ancient, magnificent piece.
Though dusty and faded with age, its beauty was undeniable, covering half the hall's floor.
"This tapestry existed before the Doom of Valyria. It was stored in the cellar of a Myrish Magister. When he went bankrupt, I bought it cheaply to present to the great King Viserys, descendant of the Dragonlords."
The tapestry depicted the world as it was. Blue silk represented the oceans, green the lands, brown and black the mountains. Gold and silver threads marked the cities like stars.
There was no Smoking Sea, and Valyria was not an island. Viserys immediately realized it depicted the world before the Doom.
Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen were merely three silver stars beside the blue Slaver's Bay.
The most magnificent feature was the image of Valyria, the World Capital. It was the only city detailed on the tapestry; all others were mere symbols.
Viserys saw high towers woven in red thread, and fierce dragons dancing in the sky.
He saw the Fourteen Flames, with massive pillars of stone connecting the volcanic peaks, and grand roads linking Valyria to its vassal cities across the peninsula.
It was said Valyria had topless towers and sphinx-adorned buildings, with dragon roads binding the empire together.
"This gift is precious." Viserys's gaze swept over the landscape, fixating on the city of Valyria.
The map showed Valyria at its zenith, before the fall. It could only serve as a reference, but it was incredibly rare.
Viserys studied the layout. The Valyrians had used dragons and magic to build architectural wonders and conquer the known world.
Some of his guesses were confirmed. For instance, the dragon lairs built by the Dragonlords were mostly high towers in the sky, not caves in the ground.
The volcanic climate would have brought sulfurous, toxic air and instability. Aside from their fire-wights, the Dragonlords likely used magic circles to calm the volcanoes.
Viserys had considered exploring the ruins of Valyria. For safety's sake, he would need to wait until his attributes were higher.
"Valyria was once the center of the world. All roads led to Valyria. Now, only a cursed wasteland remains," Morosh said.
The Valyrian peninsula had been shattered in the Doom, separating the city of Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer from the mainland by the Smoking Sea.
The city of Valyria sat at the center of the largest surviving island, surrounded by cliffs where the land had once connected.
Though precious, the tapestry was essentially a map of the dead.
Those who sailed into the Smoking Sea never returned.
"Have you heard stories of expeditions to Valyria?" Viserys asked Morosh.
Morosh shook his head nervously. "Sailors stay far from the ruins. The red winds blowing from Valyria smell of ash and brimstone. Even sailors who pass near the ruins are cursed."
"I have heard the stories too," Viserys said.
"Best not to discuss that ruin, Your Grace. Sailors say that anyone who glimpses that coast is doomed to a bad end. No sailor dares pass it. I hear the sky over Valyria is always lit by a gloomy, dark red glow, like a massive bruise. It is always red there. That is the wrath of the Fourteen Flames. The empire of blood and fire was destroyed by blood and fire." Morosh spoke as if he had witnessed the horrors himself.
"Your Grace is better off speaking little of Valyria," Morosh added. "It is uninhabited. Even the cities north of the Lands of the Long Summer are filled with twisted men, let alone the ruins themselves."
Fire, radiation, pollution, firewyrms, monsters... the ruins of Valyria held a great terror.
Given the environment, Viserys wouldn't find any usable subjects there—just radiation monsters. Even the lands north of the doom were plagued by deformity.
"It is indeed no place for men to live," Viserys agreed.
Not for men. But if Viserys gained the ability to resist such dangers, it might be worth an attempt.
"And the second gift?" Viserys asked curiously.
"The second gift is even more precious," Morosh said.
It was another tapestry, but this one depicted the portraits of the Targaryen Kings, from Aegon the Conqueror to Aerys the Mad King.
Aegon the Conqueror wore a simple circlet of Valyrian steel set with large square rubies.
Jaehaerys the Conciliator wore a gold band with seven gems, exuding the air of a merciful saint.
"I believe you will stand shoulder to shoulder with your ancestors, King Viserys."
"You are thoughtful," Viserys thanked him solemnly.
"As part of our cooperation, I have a few favors to ask of you," Viserys said to Morosh.
"Name them, Your Grace."
Viserys thought for a moment and held up three fingers.
"A few things. First, since your mercenary fleet comes from the sea, help me scout the Andalos coastline for a suitable sheltered harbor to facilitate trade."
"It would be my honor, Your Grace."
"Second, this must be done quietly. Recruit a few capable prospectors for me—men who know how to find gold and silver."
With his territory expanding, Viserys was considering minting his own coinage. He couldn't rely on foreign currency forever. He wanted to try his luck and see if there were precious metals in his vast lands.
Coins bearing the face of the King and the Dragon would display his royal glory.
"And one last request. I need dragonbone and large fish bones. I have a need for these as well."
Though Morosh found it strange, he agreed. Targaryens always had their obsessions with dragons.