"Dragon eggs? You have dragon eggs?"
Oberyn's eyebrows shot up, his voice rising sharply.
In his understanding, ever since the Tragedy at Summerhall, even the Targaryens no longer possessed dragon eggs.
Rumors claimed that Braavos and House Hightower had eggs, but these were only whispers. Both denied it, and neither was a power one could question lightly.
Illyrio panicked again, waving for him to lower his voice while anxiously scanning the hall to ensure no one overheard.
"Not yet—not now," he whispered hurriedly. "But within a year at most, I will have them. At least three!"
Illyrio explained that half a year ago, one of his fleets brought back news that three "dragon egg fossils" had appeared in the Asshai region.
Dragon egg fossils were not as valuable as true eggs, but they were still immensely prized for collection and display.
Illyrio had already sent people to acquire them; within a year, they should be delivered.
"You could… take little Aegon out for a stroll," he suggested slyly, "and 'accidentally discover' the three eggs. Then—"
Oberyn understood immediately.
A Song of Ice and Fire's version of "presenting auspicious omens."
Something similar had happened under Viserys I, before the Dance of the Dragons.
But Oberyn wasn't buying it.
Unless young Aegon could actually hatch a dragon, it wouldn't shake Viserys' position at all.
"That still takes over a year," Oberyn replied. "By then, Viserys will have completely conquered Gohor. His rule will be even more secure. You're better off getting me a few Valyrian steel blades instead."
Hearing the "empty promise," Oberyn lost patience and steered the conversation back.
Not for himself, of course—merely as part of their scheming.
"No, no—I'll continue providing treasures and gold," Illyrio said quickly, flashing yellowed teeth from eating too much cheese. "But you must try to win over the mid-rank officers. At a critical moment, they will be priceless."
"Then give more. Viserys is already trying to win over the newly surrendered Rhoynar. We should act first."
"All right. No problem!"
Though pained, Illyrio believed the investment necessary. He had to uncover who killed Varys; otherwise he would never sleep peacefully again.
Oberyn left Pentos once more—and returned fully loaded.
A long serpent of wagons and ships moved supplies endlessly toward Gohor. And yes—everything he brought back was on credit.
He returned with empty hands and came back with riches, again and again.
With this windfall, Viserys launched construction on the Balerion Wall.
Shorter than the Vhagar Wall, but twice as tall, and built with far more brick and stone for durability.
There was still half a year before the next planting season. Viserys needed work for the newly surrendered Rhoynar—something to anchor them to his rule.
He and Oberyn walked along the completed Vhagar Wall. It was wide enough for two carriages to ride side by side.
Oswell had assigned soldiers to stand guard along the battlements.
Viserys looked down at the construction site below, watching foundations being rammed for the Balerion Wall while listening to Oberyn recount his Pentos dealings.
Three dragon eggs, and the mention of Asshai— Viserys knew instantly: those were Daenerys' future eggs.
"How long until that merchant's ship arrives with the eggs?" he asked.
"Within a year," Oberyn answered. He suspected that Viserys—like all Targaryens—still dreamed of hatching dragons.
"One year…" Viserys murmured, frowning in thought.
Oberyn, sensing danger, tried to rein him in. "They're fossils, not true eggs. Even if you get them, no dragon will hatch."
Viserys looked westward, toward Pentos.
"I know. I'm not thinking about the eggs. I'm thinking that once the Rhoynar join me, another major war is waiting."
"War?" Oberyn blinked.
After the Rhoynar, only thirty-odd thousand Andals remained in all of Gohor.
Surely conquering them would be effortless?
"Pentos," Viserys said quietly. "We may end up fighting Pentos next."
"Pentos? Why? They're merchants. They have no reason to fight you."
Viserys shook his head.
"This alliance with the Rhoynar is a trick—one we've played on both Braavos and Pentos.
Sooner or later they'll realize it.
A joint army, or even an alliance with Robert Baratheon, is not impossible.
I must clearly choose which of the two to break with."
"And why Pentos?"
"Distant friendship, nearby pressure," Viserys replied. "Pentos is closer, so friction is greater. And more importantly—they fear war more. I will have the advantage."
Oberyn considered this and found the logic sound.
This young king's vision—always two steps ahead—was unmatched.
Viserys often claimed humility, saying he wasn't as capable as Rhaegar, but in Oberyn's eyes three Rhaegars together wouldn't equal him.
"If only you were Rhaegar," Oberyn sighed. "At least then the Targaryens wouldn't have lost the Iron Throne."
Viserys only smiled.
Without his "outside help," he would never have made it this far.
Without Arthur and the others, the Battle of the Narrow Sea or Shipbreaker Bay could easily have gone differently.
When he told others he was inferior to Rhaegar, it was not humility—but a reminder to himself.
This world was perilous. Even with advantages, arrogance meant death.
And beyond unknown powers—green seers or R'hllor's agents—his current enemies alone were enough to kill him if he slipped.
"Things would be easier if you could get your fleet into the Rhoyne," Oberyn said wistfully. "Then pirates would be no threat, and Pentos wouldn't dare challenge you."
That was everyone's dream. But Volantis would never tolerate a second fleet on the Rhoyne.
"Excellent idea," Viserys said. "Once I've transferred the Dragonstone supplies, I'll bring the fleet to Gohor."
"How?" Oberyn asked eagerly.
Viserys smiled mysteriously.
By asking the River Old Man for help, of course.
___________
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