At the top of the bell tower, Viserys, the Red Viper, and Connington stood overlooking the entire Tyrosh Palace. From their vantage point, they could see the remnants of battle—the corpses, severed limbs, and the flames and smoke that had not yet fully dissipated. Even from a distance, the brutality of the conflict was unmistakable. The palace grounds were littered with bodies—in the gardens, the square, the hall, even the fountain...
The bell tower itself had not been spared. Though the bodies of the fallen soldiers had been cleared away, the blackened bloodstains on the ground told of a fierce struggle.
This was the first time the Red Viper and Connington had met since the Usurper's War, and only the second time Viserys and Connington had crossed paths. Connington noted, with some surprise, that neither Viserys nor Oberyn appeared shocked to see him, as if they had known he would be there.
"Ser Connington, I like your blue hair," Viserys teased.
Connington, unbothered by the jibe, instead brought up the subject of Illyrio. However, the response was only a shared, contemptuous smile between Viserys and Viserys.
"My lord Hand of the King," said the Red Viper, placing his hand on Connington's shoulder, whether he welcomed it or not, "who do you think gave him his 'happy time'?"
Connington hesitated, confused. Illyrio had assured him that the Red Viper was a trustworthy ally, but now it seemed he was the one being played.
"You?" Connington asked tentatively.
"To be precise, it was us," the Red Viper replied, nodding toward Viserys. Connington turned to Viserys with a complicated expression, and after a long pause, he said, "Prince, you are very perceptive. If the late king and Prince Rhaegar had been like you, things might have been different." Seeing that his sincerity was not feigned, the Red Viper looked at Viserys and reassured him, "Don't worry, Viserys. Ser Connington remains loyal to the Targaryens."
Connington's face tightened, sensing that this encounter was a test. But after some thought, he conceded. After all, during the Usurper's War, it was he who had made the greatest blunders. He had indirectly caused Elia's death, and the Red Viper, in not seeking vengeance, had shown remarkable restraint.
"Prince, I wonder how you plan to deal with Illyrio?" Connington asked.
"Don't worry," Viserys replied. "I'm waiting for someone."
At that moment, Conwyra stepped forward and reported that the old captain had arrived. With Viserys's permission, the old captain was brought up. Upon seeing the Red Viper and Connington, the old captain hesitated, recognizing them as familiar faces. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword.
However, Viserys had no intention of making formal introductions. The appearance of Connington had sparked in Viserys the realization of a very advantageous opportunity.
After a brief greeting, Viserys turned to Connington and asked, "Ser Connington, how many soldiers remain in Pentos?"
"Soldiers? I believe there are about 3,000 left," Connington replied.
Viserys then shifted his gaze to the old captain. "Captain, the opportunity for revenge is here. I want to attack Pentos—now!"
"Huh?" The old captain's eyes widened in shock, and even the heavy bags under his eyes seemed to lift. Connington, too, thought he must have misheard. The Red Viper was momentarily stunned before a gleam of excitement lit up his eyes. He had thought taking Tyrosh was bold enough, but Viserys's ambition was proving to be far greater than anyone had anticipated.
"Take Pentos? Now?" Connington thought Viserys must be mad, but his instincts told him that now was indeed the perfect moment.
"What's the issue?" Viserys continued. "Pentos is defended by only 3,000 to 4,000 soldiers. With the agreement they have with Braavos, they don't even have many Unsullied left. I have over 700 Unsullied myself, 2,000 miner soldiers, and Windblown has more than 3,000 men. Prince Oberyn has brought 10,000 soldiers. We only need to deploy some elite forces and strike in secret—there's no need for a full frontal assault."
Connington swallowed hard.
The old captain's eyes, once full of melancholy, now shone with a renewed sense of purpose. 'Is the goal I've worked so hard for all these years really within reach?' he wondered. He still remembered that Viserys's original mission was simply to get Windblown out of trouble.
The Red Viper stared at Viserys as if he were looking at a monster. Had he not met Connington, such thoughts might never have crossed his mind, but now, the opportunity was too good to pass up.
"Of course," Viserys added, "if Ser Connington doesn't wish to proceed, or if any of you don't want to take the risk, I'll forget the whole thing."
Hoyt, the old captain, was more than willing. He was already sixty years old—a rare age in these times—and he had expected Viserys to merely engage the Pentos army stationed nearby. That alone would have been a significant opportunity. But now, Viserys's plan was far more daring, aimed directly at the heart of Pentos itself.
Slowly, the old captain nodded. "I think this plan is feasible."
All eyes then turned to Connington. He knew that this was Viserys giving him a chance to rejoin the Targaryen cause. After wandering for so many years, this was the moment he had longed for—a chance to serve the Targaryens and help them reclaim the Iron Throne.
Of course, he also hoped to restore his own family's fortunes. After the Usurper's War, House Connington had barely managed to keep its castle, with most of its lands granted to Robert's more loyal followers.
The goal was clear. The reward was in sight. As long as House Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne, Connington would never achieve his dreams. But with Viserys, there was hope.
"I'll take care of the fleet!" As Illyrio's agent, he had the authority to meet with the high-ranking officers of the Pentos army. All he needed was an excuse—a banquet or celebration—to lure the Pentos forces ashore. Then, they could launch their attack on Pentos like a Trojan horse.
As for the Red Viper, his temperament was perfectly suited for Viserys's plan, which promised a grand spectacle. "I've brought 10,000 men. Will 2,000 be too few? How about 5,000?" the Red Viper asked excitedly.
"Five thousand won't fit on the ships. Bring 1,500, as long as they're good men. Include the Unsullied and some from the Windblown. Three or four thousand will be enough. We're not planning to storm the city," Viserys replied.
Success! This was to be a surprise attack. As long as they could control the power of House Kurland and their vassal families, victory was assured. The old captain had no objections to being part of this "us." Alone, he couldn't conquer Pentos, but if he could achieve his goal of revenge and secure real power, he would have fulfilled his mission.
After everyone agreed, Connington suddenly spoke up. "Prince, I have one more request."
"Speak," Viserys said.
"If you're going to kill Illyrio, can you spare the child?"
"Little Aegon?" Viserys asked.
"Yes," Connington replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his request, as if all his courage had been spent on those few words. He was still the same Connington, unwilling to harm the innocent.
Hoyt didn't care, but the Red Viper was curious about Viserys's decision. This was, after all, the bloodline of Blackfyre—a name that had brought endless trouble to the Targaryens. Any other Targaryen would have executed him without hesitation.
Viserys smiled. "You're something else, Ser Connington. At the Battle of the Bells, you didn't want to harm the innocent, and you let Robert escape. That decision indirectly led to the deaths of my brother, Princess Elia, and her children. And now you want to make the same mistake?"
"Prince..." Connington began, but his voice trailed off.
At the mention of Elia, the Red Viper's mouth twitched, as if a snake struggling to restrain its venomous fangs. The deep-seated hatred in his heart flared to life. Connington looked at Viserys with a mix of pain and regret, realizing he had said something foolish.
Viserys leaned back, glancing at the faces around him—Connington, the Red Viper, the old captain. All eyes were on him, as if they were waiting for his verdict. Finally, after what seemed like a long consideration, Viserys spoke, almost as if in compromise.
"From today on, Little Aegon is your son," Viserys decreed, "born to you and a Blackfyre descendant. He has nothing to do with Illyrio. You'll explain it to him yourself. Don't call him Little Aegon or Little Griff—just call him Little Connington."
With those few words, Viserys sealed the fate of the Blackfyre bloodline.
"Thank you, Prince!" Connington knelt on one knee, choking back tears.
For centuries, the Targaryens and Blackfyres had been locked in conflict, with the Blackfyre bloodline continuously reproducing in the Free Cities of Essos. The Blackfyres weren't particular about lineage; whenever they were in the mood, they would sire more offspring. In terms of sheer numbers, they were even more prosperous than the Targaryens.
Killing one Blackfyre would only lead to another rising in his place. Therefore, Viserys concluded, it was far more strategic to use this opportunity to secure Connington's loyalty.
Not to mention that Little Aegon—no, he should now be called Little Connington—is only twelve. The fact that he risked his life to save Illyrio in the fire shows he has a good heart. With such a child under Connington's care, there's little fear that he will grow up twisted.
The most important reason for keeping "Little Aegon" alive is Viserys's intention to use him to manipulate the "Spider" Varys.
As long as "Little Aegon" lives, Viserys can align with Connington to play a long game against the spider. If Varys doesn't want his plans to crumble, he'll be forced to continue cooperating with Connington. Even under the weight of the "sunk cost," Varys will have no choice but to endure, no matter what suspicions arise.
With their concerns addressed, everyone began preparing. Manfrey and Dany were assigned key tasks, while Arianne and Jorah were to stay behind and secure Tyrosh. Meanwhile, Viserys, the Red Viper, Hoyt, and Connington led the fleet to Pentos, ready to strike.
"Dany," Viserys instructed, "tell the slaves that once Tyrosh is secured, they will be granted their freedom. Slaves make up the majority of Tyrosh's population, and if you can win them over, the city will be secure."
"Don't worry, brother. I'll handle it," Dany replied.
"And as for Manfrey," Viserys continued, "make sure that Tyrosh's best resources are firmly in our hands."
Viserys gently straightened Dany's hair. "We have more and more responsibilities now, and there are many times when I can't be with you. I have to rely on you."
Dany nodded earnestly, her expression a mix of nervousness and happiness.