As dawn broke, Viserys's black and red dragon surcoat was stained with dried, brownish blood.
He removed his silver fish-helm. The morning sun caught his silver scale armor, transforming him into a divine warrior of light.
With his silver-gold hair and violet eyes, he looked like a Valyrian Dragonlord stepped out of an ancient painting.
"Magister Illyrio, I consider you a friend. But the Khal you invited seemed to have forgotten the laws of hospitality," Viserys said, his pale violet eyes scrutinizing the fat man.
His face was inhumanly beautiful yet resolute, his words carrying the weight of steel.
This was a King forged by victory, power, and charisma.
Sweat beaded on Illyrio Mopatis's face. In his mind's eye, he could see the deadly arcs of greatswords and arakhs descending.
The shockingly large Andal knight Aggo, the lean marksman Hugo, the olive-skinned Rhoynar spearman Garin, and the newly shorn Dothraki converts all glared at Illyrio and his guards. The murderous intent in the air was palpable.
Over a thousand cavalry—Viserys's original seven hundred, plus the seven or eight hundred surrendered Dothraki.
Illyrio had brought some Unsullied, but a few dozen spear-eunuchs against this horde was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
Viserys's Andal army was a force Illyrio recognized as truly formidable—disciplined and lethal.
Illyrio had watched the latter half of the battle from the city walls.
Few citizen militias or sellswords of the Free Cities dared to face the horselords.
Yet Viserys's army had not only met them head-on but won a flawless victory with astonishingly low casualties.
Viserys had won the war, and his power had swelled like a balloon, absorbing eight hundred iron riders and a small tribe in the process.
These dangerous warriors, thirsting for blood, were enough to give all of Pentos a headache.
If Viserys gave the order, Illyrio had no doubt he would be hacked into pieces.
The foundation of any conspiracy is staying alive.
Illyrio nodded and apologized immediately, understanding that Viserys wasn't truly looking for a fight with him. "I treat you as a King. A King can do no wrong. If I have offended you, I apologize, Your Grace."
"Look at the blood I shed for friendship. The Khal sought to ambush not only me but Pentos as well," Viserys said, pointing to the heads of Khal Jhiqui, his bloodriders, and the looting screamers mounted on spears.
The screamers had been unruly. aside from his battlefield display, Viserys had ordered the execution of several Dothraki who had taken advantage of the chaos to loot and burn.
These Dothraki were like beasts; they only submitted to the whip and the strong.
Discipline them harshly, feed them well, and they would behave.
"The people of Pentos will forever remember the hand of friendship you extended. Your Grace, you have averted a catastrophe," the Magister said, wiping sweat from his brow. Fat men sweat easily, especially when terrified.
Since Khal Jhiqui was dead, his share of the gifts now belonged to Viserys. It was a massive expenditure.
But Illyrio was genuinely grateful. An army without restraint is a beast.
Illyrio understood that this army obeyed Viserys absolutely and was filled with rage.
If they unleashed their fury, even if they couldn't breach Pentos's walls, they could ravage the estates on the flatlands, starving the city of grain and fruit.
If the other Magisters blamed the loss on Illyrio, who was responsible for diplomacy, even his seniority wouldn't save him from the wrath of the city.
"Who was the warrior that slew Khal Jhiqui last night?" Illyrio asked cautiously.
"It was me. He died by my hand, on this very spear," Viserys looked at Illyrio with a faint smile.
"Your Grace's valor rivals that of Aegon the Conqueror," Illyrio flattered, piling on the smiles while his mind raced.
A Khal, even of a small tribe, was the strongest warrior chosen from thousands. He was no ordinary foe.
Yet Viserys spoke of killing him as easily as slaughtering a pig.
It made Illyrio feel as though the hierarchy of power was collapsing. Such ferocity...
"How can he be so terrifying? A teenager mastering strength to such a degree..." In his youth, Illyrio had been a bravo living on the edge of a blade; he knew the limits of strength and speed.
At this rate, Viserys might march back to Westeros before Illyrio and Varys were ready to spring their trap.
Viserys Targaryen walked over to the cedar chest containing the dragon eggs. They were the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
The three fossilized eggs were distinct, their surfaces rich with color, looking as though they were encrusted with jewels.
No wonder men dreamed of dragon eggs, and live eggs were priceless beyond measure.
The fossilized eggs were large, requiring two hands to lift.
Viserys carefully picked one up with both hands, then balanced it steadily in his strong left hand, turning it with his right fingers like a globe.
[ Fate-Reverser Viserys Targaryen, you have completed the initial accumulation of Fire Essence and obtained three fossilized dragon eggs ahead of time. You will acquire Talent: Fire Affinity, Fate Axis Fluctuation. Activated Class: Pyromancer. ]
The system notification popped up again. Just like with the Water Affinity, Viserys had activated another, perhaps even more crucial, talent and class.
Blood and fire were one. The essence of a Dragonlord was blood and fire.
The fossilized eggs were not made of fine porcelain, enamel, or glass, but were much heavier, as if made of solid stone.
Viserys felt the weight came from the petrification.
Years ago, the two-year-old "Unworthy" Aegon IV, displeased by the birth of his brother Aemon the Dragonknight, had smashed a dragon egg from his cradle over the newborn. Luckily, Aemon was unharmed.
Unpetrified eggs were certainly not this heavy.
The surface of the egg was covered in tiny scales. As Viserys turned them, they shimmered with a metallic luster in the sunlight.
Viserys picked up each one in turn.
One was deep green, revealing bronze flecks as he turned it; another was pale cream streaked with gold; the last was black, like a midnight sea, with ripples and swirls of vibrant dark red.
The colors of the shell foretold the color of the dragon within, and the color of its flame.
[ Talent (Fire Affinity): Fire warms, and all things flourish. Fire cools, and all things wither. Fire affinity brings the heat of fire, the warmth of fire, resistance to fire, and the acuity of fire. (Note: Best used near sources of Fire Essence...) ]
Viserys looked at the talent. The most important one. The lands rich in fire were the Fourteen Flames and Dragonstone.
Viserys toyed with the eggs. There was a trace of fire essence fluctuation, but it was minimal.
These three eggs hatched because of a magical ritual, not just heat.
Viserys certainly wasn't crazy enough to try eating them.
Instead, with his Fire Affinity, he could now seek out items rich in fire essence more easily.
[ Acquired Class: Pyromancer (Novice). The world ends in fire, or it ends in ice. Blood and fire are one. No mortal can keep the flame burning forever. Blood for fire, fire for blood. ]
Viserys read the description carefully. Pyromancers indeed possessed a domineering intensity, quite different from the gentle grace of Hydromancy.
Burning one's own blood to awaken the fire of life.
Or stealing the fire of others, like the terrifying acts of the ancient Valyrian Dragonlords.
Water magic didn't speak of destroying the world, but fire magic was different.
Ice magic was a separate branch of water magic. Water and ice shared an attribute but had different cores.
Some water was gentle, nourishing civilization, like the Rhoyne. Ice magic belonged to the Others and the Long Night, like the barren lands of the North.
Fire represented dragons and fire magic, but also human desire—the craving for power, wealth, and love.
Ice represented the Others and ice magic, but also hatred, coldness, and ruthlessness.
Viserys set down the egg. From this day forth, he was a dual-class mage.
"This?" Illyrio's eyes tightened, his mouth forming a perfect 'O'. He watched Viserys handle the three heavy fossilized eggs single-handedly as if they were children's toys.
Viserys put down the eggs, his breathing and posture unchanged.
Illyrio had kept these eggs for a long time; he knew their properties better than he knew his dead wife.
He had books and scrolls on hatching dragons. If there had been any other way, he wouldn't have given them up.
The eggs were heavy, yet Viserys handled them with breezy ease.
More shockingly, his movements were fluid and natural, proving his physical strength had reached a superlative level.
And this was after a night of hard fighting.
That handsome face, that lithe, cheetah-like body, concealed strength tempered a thousand times over.
Killing a Khal, and now this display of godlike strength... Illyrio could only file this information away to share with Varys later.
Serve the demon first, plot later.
Illyrio now kept many Unsullied and Meereenese pit fighters in his own manse.
Pentoshi power struggles sometimes required force.
Viserys's strength shook Illyrio to his core. It was unusual. An agile, speedy fighter rarely achieved such extreme raw power.
But seeing it with his own eyes, Illyrio had to accept that such multifaceted monsters existed.
"He has surpassed elite warriors. He is a disguised Mountain. If I deal with him in the future, I must have Unsullied and pit fighters protecting me." Illyrio made up his mind.
Viserys was far more deceptive than the Mountain. The Mountain was a pile of meat that screamed "evil power," warning everyone away.
Viserys had the contrast of beautiful looks and berserk strength.
If an enemy was even slightly arrogant, they were dead.
In terms of weight, Illyrio's head wasn't much heavier than a dragon egg. If Viserys suddenly attacked, Illyrio's head wouldn't stay on his shoulders.
Within ten paces, instant kill.
"Was Varys's intelligence wrong? Was Viserys not a violent, spoiled prince? Did Varys misjudge him? Is he a genius at hiding his true self?" Illyrio quickly dismissed the thought. He never doubted Varys; their alliance was unbreakable.
Besides, Prince Viserys had been a child then, a pampered brat.
"Magic?" Illyrio speculated, then dismissed it.
Mages in this age had degenerated to the level of clowns.
They were all show, relying on tricks, love potions, lies, and sleight of hand to swindle money.
Illyrio could only assume Viserys was a late bloomer with explosive talent.
Regardless, he must have endured untold hardships to become such a steely, cold-blooded warrior.
Illyrio had only heard Varys speak of Robert and the Mountain's unmatched strength—Robert wielding a warhammer one-handed that other knights needed two hands to lift, moving as fast as the wind. The Mountain, an eight-foot giant monster.
Now it seemed this Viserys was a monster warrior too.
"They are beautiful. A heavy gift indeed, Magister Illyrio." Viserys set down the eggs.
"Dragon eggs belong to the Dragon. It is fitting." Illyrio smiled broadly, his heart bleeding.
Even as fossils, each egg was worth a fortune, enough to buy a luxury ship and ensure a life of wealth.
It wasn't just the money. He had given the eggs but received no corresponding benefit. That was a huge loss.
If he had given them to seal an alliance between Viserys and a Khal for an invasion, that would be acceptable—at least he'd have shown his face.
If it was a gift to lull Viserys into a trap, that was also acceptable.
But now... he had given away a fortune for nothing, and his motives were even suspected.
Illyrio had to swallow his teeth and smile.
Let the boy puff himself up. Let him fight Robert to the death. Illyrio thought darkly.
"Magister Illyrio, shall we visit the markets again? Is it convenient?" Viserys asked.
He had found many good items yesterday. Today, he could continue his shopping spree.
"It would be my supreme honor," Illyrio said, accompanying him immediately.