The more than ten thousand newly surrendered Rhoynar were unquestionably a blessing—but they were also a drain.
Viserys' food stores were burning away faster than ever.
Lothan was trading the Upper Rhoyne navigation rights to gain Braavosi aid,
while Viserys—lacking any "real" assets—was drawing grand promises in the air to squeeze gold from Pentos.
To persuade Oberyn to make another trip to Pentos for supplies, he even let the prince sleep with the Prince's Spear in his arms for a night.
"Allow me to congratulate His Grace Viserys on yet another victory."
Among the Pentoshi, no one was happier about Viserys' success than Audro.
If Audro hoped to reclaim power from the merchant-governors, then Viserys' victory was his victory as well.
"The gods favor us," Oberyn replied smoothly.
He sipped his golden wine and continued,."Prince Audro, honored governors—His Grace hopes you can provide another shipment of grain and arms.
He has declared the Upper Rhoyne will be shared with Pentos in the future."
For ten full seconds, the room fell silent.
Shared access to the Upper and Lower Rhoyne… This was enormous.
Even if Viserys conquered Gohor quickly, the region would not develop major industries anytime soon.
The Rhoyne waterways would become one of his main sources of revenue.
For him to give even that up…
His decisiveness stunned the room.
The merchant-governors were already calculating how much profit an open waterway could bring them.
Yet one man hated the proposal—Illyrio.
In his eyes, both tributaries—and eventually Gohor itself—should belong to him. For Viserys to hand such treasures away so casually was intolerable.
But he could not retract Oberyn's offer now. He would have to speak with Oberyn privately later.
Audro spoke first, "If His Grace is willing to show such goodwill, then Pentos should accept this friendship."
He looked around the table, signaling the governors to respond in kind.
Though Audro held no real authority under the minotaur-ruled guilds, he was still nominally Prince of Pentos.
Diplomatically, his voice carried ceremonial weight.
"The prince is right," said one sharp-eyed governor. "I will sell three hundred thousand bushels of grain at half price.
Enough to feed twenty thousand people for a year. If His Grace requires more later, I can continue at a discount."
"I will send three hundred skilled craftsmen to build fortifications for the Targaryens. His Grace need only provide their meals."
"I have a shipment of armor—I can sell it cheap."
Offers flooded in one after another.
Oberyn thanked each of them on Viserys' behalf.
He knew perfectly well that Viserys would never hand over the Rhoyne rights to these merchants. Not while Bloodbeard remained locked in a Pentoshi cell as leverage.
But that was Viserys' business, not his.
He simply wanted to hold the Prince's Spear again.
"Then, on behalf of His Grace, I accept your friendship," Oberyn said.
"We will soon bring twenty thousand men and supplies from Dragonstone. Please assist in transferring them at the harbor."
"Of course!"
"No problem at all!"
"Tell His Grace everything will be handled."
Oberyn smiled. He knew these merchant-governors would probably lose everything by the end.
After the meeting, they held a grand banquet in his honor.
Oberyn lounged with a pale-skinned girl whose eyes were a striking blue—
the same color as the Prince's Spear.
Normally, he would have indulged himself. Tonight, however, he wasn't interested.
He cupped her chin, studying her eyes intently.
She lowered her gaze, cheeks flushing shyly. He leaned in—
"Prince Oberyn?"
He turned. It was Illyrio.
"Oh—Governor," Oberyn replied.
The blue-eyed girl stood obediently.
Oberyn sent her off with a casual slap to her backside.
Illyrio sat opposite him and signaled his attendant to stand guard nearby.
"Are you here to rush me, Governor?" Oberyn teased.
"Not at all, Prince. I only wish to understand the attitudes of His Grace's closest followers."
Illyrio smiled politely.
Oberyn sighed and shook his head.
"This boy is too good at winning hearts. Everyone around him is loyal. Even Ser Oswell—whom I worked so hard to sway—is beginning to waver."
"What? Truly?" Illyrio was stunned.
"What? You doubt me?" Oberyn suddenly raised his voice.
Illyrio panicked at once.
"No, no! Not at all!"
"You must understand," Oberyn continued, lowering his voice,
"These knights are simple men. Whoever leads them to victory is the one they follow.
Viserys hasn't lost a single battle since donning the crown. It's only natural for them to rally behind him."
Illyrio found himself agreeing.
War and business were alike—
If a leader made people prosper, their influence rose naturally, regardless of age or gender.
"And," Oberyn added, "among the people coming from Dragonstone are two Kingsguard. I may need more treasures to secure their loyalty."
Illyrio understood the implication instantly.
"What do you need?"
"Get me a few Valyrian steel swords."
"A few?!"
Illyrio traded in dragonbone and gems.
He had seen many Valyrian blades—
and each was worth tens of thousands of gold dragons.
For Oberyn to casually request several was outrageous.
"I only have one at the moment," Illyrio sputtered. "Will a dragon egg do instead?"
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