Viserys let his horse gallop freely, the black and red dragon banner snapping in the wind.
He was still riding his Dothraki black courser. The Red Viper had gifted him a Dornish sand steed, but Viserys had left it stabled for now. He had grown fond of the black horse over time.
A wealthy man of high standing often possessed multiple steeds. Viserys's stables weren't yet fully stocked, but his best mounts were the black courser and the Dornish mare.
Viserys led eight hundred cavalry—the elite of Andalos. Six hundred Andal heavy cavalry and two hundred Rhoynar light horse.
Strapped to his saddle were his newly acquired Spear of Garin the Grey, the round turtle-shell shield, the throwing spears gifted by the Red Viper, and the Dornish recurve bow.
Viserys had simply attributed all the Rhoynar relics to Garin the Grey.
Now that he thought about it, the weapons might not have belonged to Garin's generation; it was more likely later generations had attributed them to the legendary hero.
But that didn't stop them from representing the zenith of Rhoynar craftsmanship, true holy relics of the river people.
Viserys felt the "Armor of Garin the Grey"—the silver scale mail—possessed a magic not inferior to the Valyrian steel armor Euron Crow's Eye would later wear. It was incredibly light yet harder than steel.
As Viserys moved, the edges of the scales shimmered with light.
The metal was decorated with spiral patterns, runes representing the Great River, and mysterious Rhoynar symbols.
After leaving Ghoyan Drohe, Viserys traveled along the Valyrian Road for a stretch before turning south toward Pentos.
He took the time to marvel at this architectural wonder. The road was not made of dirt, brick, or cobblestone, but was a ribbon of fused stone, laid down like lava.
It was raised half a foot above the ground to shed rain and snow, stretching straight as a spear toward the horizon.
Unlike the muddy tracks called "roads" in the Seven Kingdoms, the Valyrian Road was a true highway, wide enough for three wagons to travel abreast without slowing traffic.
Four centuries after the Doom, the ancient road remained as pristine as the day it was made, free of cracks or ruts.
"This comes from magic," Viserys thought. High-level fire magic had melted and fused the stone.
The Alchemists' Guild of today only knew the crude tricks of wildfire; they knew nothing of true fire elemental magic.
True pyromancers were the Valyrian sorcerers and Dragonlords who commanded the flames.
And it wasn't just the Valyrians. The Rhoynar's fountains and canals were likely feats of magic as well.
Water magic was gentle, fire magic domineering. Fire demanded blood and flame.
Water magic was kinder, with no side effects, though its destructive power was lower than fire's.
It was skill and magic that made these two civilizations magnificent, their technology clearly a dimension above the current age.
The horses thundered down the road, the knights exuding a fierce aura.
At the end of the Valyrian Road, Viserys turned south until the magnificent city appeared before him.
Pentos. The closest Free City to King's Landing.
Viserys saw the sea again—the endless expanse of water, rolling with white foam.
Across that sea lay his former home, King's Landing. So close in sight, yet as distant as the ends of the earth.
Surrounded by his retinue—the mountainous Aggo, the marksman Hugo, and the Rhoynar spearman Garin—Viserys slowly approached the Sunrise Gate of Pentos.
Behind him, the cavalry raised their banners. The silent, black-armored riders stood like a forest of steel. The sight of the black and red dragon caused a commotion among the city watch on the walls.
At a set distance, the soldiers halted and waited.
Viserys sat on his black stallion, clad in silver armor and helm. With every movement, the Armor of Garin the Grey radiated a brilliant silver light.
At his waist hung a sword and dagger. Over his armor, he wore a cloak of black embroidered with a red dragon in fine silk, the beast looking ready to leap from the fabric.
"Close the gates! Quickly!"
"Hurry!"
The Pentoshi defenders scrambled to recall the citizens entering and leaving the city. Their actions were clumsy and panicked.
Because Pentos had no towns or vassal settlements on the flatlands, they had no effective scouts or outer defenses.
The Pentoshi thought it was a bandit raid, but this looked like an elite army, not a disorganized Dothraki horde.
Viserys watched the panicked Pentoshi watchmen. The gates were closing too slowly, and the soldiers' discipline was pathetic.
The guards clutched their spears, blowing horns, their faces showing more terror than courage.
If there were a real war, these spiritless soldiers would likely fire a few arrows into the sky to justify their wages and then flee for their lives.
Pentos was a city of square brick towers, most roofed with tiles. It boasted a massive red temple, a testament to the popularity of the Lord of Light, R'hllor.
It seemed that after being effectively disarmed by Braavos, the Pentoshi had committed fully to the path of decadence.
For the last century, Pentos had been essentially an undefended city, relying on a few thousand guards, many of whom were likely ghost soldiers existing only on payroll ledgers.
"Who is that shining warrior?" A Pentoshi on the wall, having finally managed to close the gate, plucked up the courage to shout down.
The Pentoshi might lack martial virtue, but they had eyes.
Viserys's silver armor was dazzling, blindingly bright. Judging by the gear, he was clearly the leader of these knights.
"The Lord of Andalos, King Viserys, comes to visit Pentos!" Aggo roared, his voice booming like struck iron.
The Pentoshi broke into a chaotic murmur.
"What a herd of pigs," Hugo commented rudely. "No wonder the horselord savages love visiting here."
For an archer, courage and efficiency were key; wasting time was a sin.
"Viserys! Andalos." The captain of the guard on the wall finally connected the dots. Magister Illyrio had visited this newly risen King not long ago.
Since he was an acquaintance, the danger was much lower.
"Wait a moment, Your Grace! I will inform the Magisters immediately," the captain shouted.
Just like paying tribute, sending money and gifts had become a standard procedure for Pentos.
Because their army and fleet were weak, the Magisters maintained a friendly attitude toward other Free Cities and Dothraki Khals alike.
For years, the Magisters had cultivated relationships with a string of powerful Khals, showering them with gifts and gold to ensure their khalasars stayed east of the Rhoyne.
Seeing Viserys now, the defenders fell back on their familiar routine, their practiced submission painfully smooth.
After some time, the Sunrise Gate of Pentos swung open.
Illyrio's palanquin appeared once more, suspended by heavy leather straps between eight large horses.
Four eunuch warriors guarded the flanks, while more soldiers trailed behind guarding the baggage train—hastily assembled wagons clearly laden with gifts.
The fat Magister descended from his palanquin. Illyrio stroked his oiled yellow forked beard—a gesture that looked rather sleazy.
"Great King Viserys, please forgive my lateness. The price of being a humble servant of this great city is endless meetings," Illyrio apologized.
Viserys smiled. "I should be the one to apologize for coming uninvited."
"Not at all. It is the supreme honor of Pentos," Illyrio said.
Illyrio eyed Viserys's armor. It glittered with silver light, magnificent beyond compare.
He noticed the silver glow at the edges of the scales, making Viserys look like a god descended to earth.
The craftsmanship didn't look like the work of impoverished Andals or Rhoynar.
"Your Grace's armor is so magnificent. I have never seen its like."
"It is a gift from the Rhoyne. Silver scale armor," Viserys said simply.
Illyrio was wealthy, but he had never seen such top-tier artistry as silver scale mail. He simply assumed it was very fine steel.
"To welcome you and your mighty warriors, the Magisters have brought gifts as a token of our esteem," Illyrio said respectfully.
"Gold, silver, gems, silk, spices, armor, fine wine, dragonbone, fish bone, wood carvings, statues of the Mother... we have brought all manner of beautiful things to ensure Your Grace has a pleasant stay in Pentos."
Viserys looked at the goods arriving on mules and wagons. It was another windfall—dozens of chests of gifts.
As Viserys's fame grew, the sincerity of the Pentoshi Magisters grew with it.
No wonder the Dothraki Khals made a habit of raiding Pentos for "gifts." The people here spoke sweetly and spent lavishly.
"Let us all thank the Magisters of Pentos! The generous Magister Illyrio!" Viserys raised his whip. "Thank you to the Magisters of Pentos for making us feel at home!"
"The generous Magister Illyrio!"
"The generous Magister Illyrio!"
The knights cheered Illyrio's name in unison, their voices piercing the clouds.
These knights sat like statues, horses and men motionless until Viserys gave the command. His word was law.
Comparing Viserys's cavalry to the Pentoshi city watch, Illyrio felt his own defenders were useless rice buckets, lacking the scent of blood and fire.
It was why the Magisters preferred to buy Unsullied guards.
Illyrio's mind raced. He understood this wasn't gratitude; it was a naked display of force.
A tough, heavy cavalry unit with the ruthlessness to swallow everything in its path.
Such discipline was rare. It reminded Illyrio of the Golden Company, mercenaries who trained like a professional army.
But the Golden Company was a century-old institution.
That this young man Viserys had trained such troops himself was terrifying.
"Can such a strong-willed young man truly be manipulated so easily? It feels like raising a dragon only to be eaten by it," Illyrio thought, keeping his smile plastered on while calculating his best move.
Viserys was already a rising warlord in Andalos and the Rhoyne, not a mere exile.
Illyrio, and indeed the other Magisters of Pentos, had heard Viserys's nickname: "The Dragon of the Rhoyne."
Many Magisters were worried and demanded increased defenses, but Illyrio had dissuaded them.
"No, I have invested too much. Everything is for the boy. Let this Viserys strut for now. I will be the one laughing in the end," Illyrio took a deep breath.
By leveraging Viserys's momentum, he could increase his own voice in Pentos.
At the same time, he needed to keep courting Viserys to push him toward a clash with the Iron Throne.
So, for now, all investments were acceptable.
"King Viserys, will you accompany me into the city?" the Magister asked.
"The journey was tiring. I wish to rest outside for the night. Tomorrow, I will visit the markets of Pentos properly," Viserys replied.
"If it is rest you seek, we have prepared a new manse for you," Illyrio said.
A seaside manse. Viserys was receiving the exact same treatment as a Dothraki Khal.
The Pentoshi were throwing money at the problem again. Tonight, all expenses were on Pentos.
read more inpat***
CaveLeather
lots of story Game of Thrones