After the Red Viper set foot on the land of Tyrosh, he was struck by the sight of Windblown banners flying over the city walls. The blue and white flags fluttered in the morning breeze, adding a delicate touch to the dark stone fortifications. This was an unexpected sight.
Capturing a city was a grand feat, one that most would seize as an opportunity to display their house banners proudly, asserting the restoration of their ancestral glory. Yet, there wasn't a single Targaryen three-headed dragon banner in sight. Instead, Viserys had chosen restraint.
This revelation gave the Red Viper pause. He realized that Viserys possessed a quality he hadn't fully appreciated before—caution. This young Targaryen was more than just a reckless warrior; he was calculated, perhaps even more so than Bittersteel.
The Red Viper was suddenly reminded of a conversation he had long ago with Prince Doran. Doran had noted Viserys's quiet confidence, an almost unshakable belief that he could carve out a name for himself in the Free Cities. And now, it seemed, he had done just that.
Viserys had secured his own territory, his own power. As the gates opened to welcome him, the Red Viper understood that Tyrosh had indeed fallen under Targaryen rule. Even without the dragon banners, the presence of the Targaryens was palpable, like a shadow of the three-headed dragon looming above, silently asserting its dominance.
Viserys had accurately gauged the fighting spirit and mentality of this so-called alliance. He knew that the Red Viper hadn't committed fully to the attack, but he wasn't concerned. Instead, he stepped forward to greet him, his calm demeanor betraying none of the triumph he surely felt.
The Red Viper stood side by side with Manfrey, though Manfrey hung back slightly, a respectful distance that underscored the Red Viper's authority. Behind them was a retinue of Dorne's finest—a striking woman with a whip in hand, clearly Obara, his eldest daughter, and another with milky white skin and fierce eyes, his second daughter Nymeria.
Among the group were several unfamiliar faces, likely Dorne nobles who had joined the battle. Even the hundreds of guards accompanying them were unmistakably elite. These nobles were intensely curious about the enigmatic Viserys, having heard countless rumors:
The Prince of a Fallen Kingdom,
The Beggar King,
The Champion of the Tournament,
Pirate Killer.
Some of the older nobles even whispered that Viserys might be the reincarnation of the legendary Silver Prince.
Arianne's eyes widened in astonishment as she took in the sight before her. Viserys, clad in black armor, stood like an imposing statue. His silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his entire demeanor radiated an aura of unyielding strength.
After a moment of adjustment, the Red Viper asked, "Has the city been secured?"
"The high-ranking officials of Tyrosh have all been arrested," Viserys replied. "But I don't have enough men to hold it."
Manfrey immediately seized the opportunity. "We can bring in the army!" he offered eagerly. He was clearly hoping for a chance to plunder Tyrosh, and the prospect of loot had the surrounding Dornish nobles visibly stirring.
Viserys understood their anticipation. They had just come through a battle, and it would be unwise, even inhumane, to deny them the spoils of war. Even him in his previous world had to offer compensation when he stopped his soldiers from looting.
Viserys addressed the crowd with a commanding presence:
"Dorne is a large cake, but there are many more than just us eager to take a bite! The fleets of Pentos and Myr are still hesitating to land, unsure of their next move. Their priority is to protect the city, so they can grab the biggest slice. Tyrosh is a prize, and I don't just want the fattest piece—I intend to swallow the whole thing. As for the others, we'll leave them only the crumbs."
This was Viserys's original strategy: to allow Myr and Pentos access to just a few ports, keeping the majority of the city's wealth for himself and his allies. He was particularly wary of Myr, another slave-owning Free City. If they were allowed in, they would inevitably seize slaves, possibly sparking conflicts over who controlled them. Now that Tyrosh was becoming his "dragon's lair," Viserys was determined not to let anyone else threaten his dominance.
The Red Viper and his followers accepted Viserys's counsel and moved to secure the city. Manfrey returned to mobilize more soldiers to bolster the city's defenses.
...
Meanwhile, the combined forces of Myr and Pentos remained offshore, hesitant to commit. As dawn broke, they decided to call a temporary truce.
"That's enough for now. I'm exhausted," Lightnere suggested to his brother. "Send someone to check on the Westerosi. They seem to be quite formidable."
The two brothers were clearly unprepared for the intensity of the battle. Just as they were ready to settle down, a scout arrived with startling news.
"My lord, the Westerosi say that Tyrosh has fallen. They invite you to a meeting and request that you station your army at the harbor."
The brothers were stunned. 'Could the Westerosi truly be that strong?' They had clearly underestimated their allies. It dawned on them that they had contributed little to the fight; the forces from Sunspear had nearly taken Tyrosh single-handedly.
In the hierarchy of the Free Cities, Braavos was stronger than Pentos, as history had shown when Braavos defeated Pentos. But even Braavos had not conquered Pentos. Tyrosh was considered more formidable than Pentos, and now, Sunspear had proven itself stronger than Tyrosh. This realization placed Pentos at the bottom of the power structure.
Facing such a powerful army, the brothers were understandably fearful. While docking their fleet in the harbor would have given them some reassurance, the invitation also made them feel deeply insecure. Yet, they knew they had no choice but to go.
But who would go?
The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, each trying to avoid the responsibility.
"Father said you're the commander of this battle, so only you can represent Pentos. I'll stay here," Lightnere said, trying to pass the burden.
"Since I'm the commander, I need to stay and oversee the fleet. You go instead," his brother countered.
Their cowardice was evident, reminiscent of Kurland's infamous reputation for avoiding danger.
"How about sending a captain?" Lightnere suggested, but the men they had brought were mostly from vassal houses, each eager to earn glory in battle. The brothers had even taken money from these men, so it wouldn't be fair to send one of them to face the potential danger alone.
But the question remained: who would be sent?
"Oh, that's right. The Griffin—Connington—he's one of Illyrio's men, isn't he?" Dotnere remarked, and his brother immediately agreed.
Connington was indeed loyal to Illyrio, and they both knew that Illyrio had hinted at using Connington in the most dangerous situations. This seemed like the perfect moment to test that loyalty.
When Connington received the mission, he accepted it willingly. His curiosity was piqued, wondering how Sunspear's forces had suddenly become so formidable. How had a mere 10,000 men managed to take Tyrosh? He entered the city with a small, nervous escort, determined to meet with Viserys in private. He intended to warn him that Illyrio's intentions were far from pure and that he might soon face treachery.
Meanwhile, the Myrish situation was less fraught. Cassius, the commander of Myr's fleet, entered Tyrosh with a few deputies, although he was uneasy. The people of Sunspear had been somewhat discourteous by not allowing the Myrish army into the city. Fearing the military might of Sunspear, Cassius could only focus on securing as much advantage for Myr as possible.
The old Windblown captain, Hoyt, had anticipated many moves. Relying on his years of experience, he had already stationed men at the southern port before capturing the Dragon's Flame Fortress. Consequently, he controlled both locations simultaneously. Leaving 300 to 500 men to guard the fortress, he led 3,000 men directly to Tyrosh.
As he approached the city and saw the Windblown banners fluttering over the castle, Hoyt paused, momentarily lost in thought. Then he let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Captain! Viserys has succeeded!" exclaimed his old comrade Denzo, his voice brimming with emotion. This meant Viserys was safe.
The captain nodded, joy welling up in his heart. Despite the lingering smell of smoke and burning, the scene before him appeared exceptionally bright and clear. The blue and white banners dotted the scorched earth like flowers blooming in blackened mud.
For the first time in history, a mercenary group was on the verge of owning its own territory.
'But wait! If a mercenary group controls territory, can it still be called a mercenary group? No, it becomes a warlord's domain—a hegemon.'
The realization struck Hoyt with both excitement and caution. He couldn't wait to see Viserys. With their cooperation, revenge seemed not just possible, but inevitable.
As soon as Hoyt entered the city, he found Meris waiting to greet him.
"Captain, Viserys told me to wait for you here. He said it was something important. It's about Pentos!"
"Pentos?" Hoyt's eyelids twitched. 'Was Viserys planning to wipe out the Pentosi army? That wouldn't do!'
Despite his desire for revenge, Hoyt knew that attacking an ally would be disastrous. It would destroy their credibility, leaving them isolated, with no one willing to cooperate with them in the future. Moreover, such an action would turn every neighboring power—Lys in the south, Sunspear in the west, and Myr in the north—against them. They would never be able to establish themselves in Tyrosh if they made enemies on all sides.
'Ah, young people are too eager!' Hoyt thought, believing that Viserys was rushing to consolidate power over the Windblown and then move on to Westeros. Young people often get carried away by the thrill of victory.
Determined to dissuade Viserys from such a rash and dangerous course of action, Hoyt quickened his pace, striding purposefully towards the palace. He had to stop Viserys from making a decision that could undo everything they had achieved.