At dawn, Viserys departed Pentos, riding his black courser northward along the coast.
The black banner with the red dragon fluttered in the gentle, pale sea breeze.
Mounted on spears were the grisly, tarred heads of Khal Jhiqui and his bloodriders, their expressions frozen in shock, eerily lifelike.
The silent, black-armored knights rode like a forest of steel, young and fearless, galloping with the wind.
Viserys had removed his silver helm. His neatly kept silver-gold hair and magnificent silver armor shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
More than seven hundred royal guards, plus the auxiliary Dothraki cavalry and twelve silent, elderly Unsullied, escorted King Viserys.
The shorn Dothraki riders looked somewhat comical without their braids, but they were now the knights of the Dragon Khal.
Viserys had arrived with eight hundred iron riders; he left with an army more than double that size.
In addition to Aggo, Hugo, and Garin, Viserys's guard now included the Dothraki Ringo and Crabb from Crackclaw Point—a truly mixed force.
Andals, Rhoynar, semi-wild Westerosi, and Dothraki stood side by side.
These Dothraki cavalrymen dared not return to the grasslands. Khal Drogo was on a rampage of slaughter and expansion; their small band would be swallowed whole or forced into submission.
Trailing behind the column were the artisans Viserys had poached, wagons laden with supplies and gifts from the Pentoshi Magisters, and the remnants of the Dothraki tribe—women, children, and slaves.
Viserys had a premonition that his honeymoon period with Pentos wouldn't last long.
Khals came and went; succession on the Great Grass Sea was unstable, and stable tribes were rare.
But Andalos was different. Its foundation was a feudal military state, far more stable than the Dothraki system, and much closer to Pentos.
On the walls of Pentos, Illyrio watched Viserys's departure.
Viserys had turned Pentos upside down and slain a Khal.
A godlike warrior with few equals, a stark contrast to the mediocre men of Pentos.
"Like a fish leaping into the deep, like a dragon soaring into the sky." Illyrio felt his plans slowly unraveling. He needed to visit King's Landing again.
Illyrio had no suitable leverage in Pentos. His hope lay in the far east, with Drogo, who was still plundering the Lamb Men.
In the inevitable future conflict between Drogo, the Andal King Viserys, and the Tyroshi, he needed to figure out how to pull chestnuts from the fire and maximize his own profit.
Viserys chose not to take the Valyrian Road north but followed the fine white coastline.
Aside from enjoying the expansive coastal scenery, he could scout for suitable harbor locations.
Viserys realized the vast coast occupied by Pentos was perfect, with deep-water ports and sheltered bays.
Myr and Pentos were built in such calm harbors, growing strong on their geography.
Viserys found another bay comparable to the Bay of Pentos, where the Valyrian Road began.
But he couldn't establish his port there. even if the Pentoshi Magisters were pig-headed, they would be alarmed by such a move.
It was a pity such a fine harbor couldn't be claimed.
Unlike the jagged, tooth-like coast of Andalos further north, the coastline here was flat.
The sea was like a tireless, angry beast beneath the endless sky and clouds.
"Is this your territory, Your Grace?" Nimble Dick asked. "It's beautiful, completely different from Crackclaw Point."
Viserys nodded. This was the coastline of Andalos. The only flaw was the lack of a proper seaport, save for small fishing villages.
The fragmented Andals were like sand slipping through fingers, failing to organize the strength to build cities.
"I need a port. A port for the Andals," Viserys envisioned. He had already arranged for Myrishmen to scout and begin construction.
The wealthiest cities in the world were almost all seaports, proving the unparalleled speed and importance of maritime trade.
The vast land of Andalos needed its own gateway to the sea.
Originally, Essos had three trade routes: the Rhoyne river route, the overland route across the Dothraki Sea, and the sea route connecting the Free Cities.
But due to the plague curse of the Sorrows, the decline of Rhoynar civilization, and the rise and slaughter of the Dothraki, the river and overland routes had withered. Trade now relied heavily on the sea.
Viserys had considered reviving the other two routes, but that required extraordinary capability to achieve such glory.
And it was a risky path, sure to draw the hatred of cities like Qarth, which had profited from the Dothraki rise by proclaiming itself the extraordinarily wealthy Center of the World.
Great deeds are born of hardship and require relentless effort.
---
Viserys continued north along the coast until he reached a small cove almost parallel to Viserys Fort, the capital of Andalos.
Here, the first seaport town of Andalos, Swan Harbor, was under construction.
Originally a small cove with only a few fishing boats, it now hosted merchant ships from the Free Cities.
Myrish engineers and Andal fishermen were rushing to build a small port.
A small sept to the Seven had already been erected. Beside it stood a statue: a warrior slaying a swan maiden.
According to legend, Hugor of the Hill slew the swan maidens who lured travelers to their deaths in the Velvet Hills, sacrificing them to the Seven not out of malice, but piety.
"King Viserys!" Morosh spotted the large host and was startled along with his sailors.
"Well done, Morosh."
The mass of gleaming Andal knights was intimidating enough, but the accompanying Dothraki cavalry was terrifying.
The shadow the Dothraki cast over the Free Cities was immense; they were seen as bloodthirsty savages.
Even the Myrish paid gold to Khals who came to their walls, though less frequently than the Pentoshi.
"These Dothraki?" Morosh asked cautiously.
"They are my vassal knights now, loyal to me. You can see their hair," Viserys said lightly.
"And the original Khal?"
"Aggo." Viserys called Aggo forward to show the heads on the spears to the mercenary admiral.
"Khal Jhiqui. He tried to ambush me in Pentos. Unfortunately for him, he failed and became my trophy. Along with his Kos and bloodriders." Viserys spoke calmly, as if discussing a trivial matter.
Morosh's eyes widened. A trivial matter?
Despite Viserys's casual tone, Morosh knew the danger involved.
The Dothraki respected no bloodline, only strength. Khals were warriors who lived on the edge of a blade, not show ponies.
For Viserys to easily defeat a warrior who commanded thousands... his power must be terrifying.
In a contest of fists, the Dragon King was harder. His iron fist had shattered the myth of Dothraki invincibility.
"Supreme glory lies in serving the True Dragon. Your victory honors the gods," Morosh flattered quickly.
Morosh had thought it over carefully. Struggling on his own boat in Myr would only get him so far; he would never touch the peak of power.
He was just the descendant of a runaway slave from the Myrish slums.
But now, he saw another possibility waving at him.