Gendry's bedchamber was located by the sea in Pentos, with seven tall towers rising high and pale ivy climbing its towering brick walls.
The people of Pentos were happy to give gifts to powerful guests, similar to a 'tribute'.
The Pentos people believed that giving gold and gifts was more cost-effective than waging war.
Previous courtyards were given to a Khal, and this time, the courtyard was given to the newly rising Mercenary King of Myr.
Since it was the fat man paying, Gendry did not refuse.
Inside the hall, the air was filled with the fragrant scent of spices like fire peppers, cinnamon, and sweet lemons.
Gendry, Jorah, and several of his Unsullied guards were escorted into the reception hall, where stained-glass mosaics depicted the Fall of Valyria.
Outside the hall, there were also many Wolf Pack and Free Army taxi soldiers.
"These cheese vendors have nothing but money!" Jorah grumbled resentfully.
Gendry understood his hatred; Jorah's wife had previously run off with a merchant from Lys, and Jorah detested merchants from these Free Cities.
"Though I have not met the exiled princess of House Targaryen, she must surely be a beauty of unearthly charm," Jorah praised.
"Not to be rude, but if you changed your attire, perhaps the ladies would like you more!" Gendry gently reminded him.
Jorah was older, about forty, and though his hair was thinning, his body remained robust.
He did not wear silk or cotton clothes but opted for wool and leather, with a dark green tunic embroidered with a black bear standing on its hind legs.
"This has always been my style, Commander-in-Chief. Can a good woman not see past material things and outward appearance?" Jorah replied.
Gendry was somewhat speechless; some people just couldn't be taught.
A man who was old, bald, and as stubbornly straightforward as a Northerner indeed didn't have much luck with women.
The lamp oil in the black lanterns on the four walls burned continuously, and beneath an archway carved with two stone leaves, a eunuch loudly announced their arrival.
He cried out in a high-pitched, sweet voice, "The sole Magistrate of the Narrow Sea, the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, and Myr, the Commander-in-Chief of the Wolf Pack Company and the Free Army, Lord warhammer."
After the eunuch's announcement, all sounds ceased.
The guests looked over in unison and saw a tall, agile warrior.
Gendry did not carry a warhammer but an unrivaled valyrian steel arakh.
"All sorts of gazes!" Gendry thought.
Among the crowd were assassins and Mercenaries from Pentos and Tyrosh, a Red Priest fatter than Illyrio, hairy eccentrics from Ibben, and several dark-skinned lords from the Summer Isles.
Gendry swept his gaze over these people; Pentos truly lived up to its reputation as a major commercial port.
Some people in the courtyard were dothraki Khals; Illyrio had not invited the most powerful Khal Drogo but rather some other Khals.
They were all tall, with reddish-brown skin, long beards held by interlocking silver rings, and lustrous black hair tied into countless braids with silver bells hanging from them.
The Red Priest was curious, while the Tyroshi harbored fear and hatred.
Myr and the Stepstones were too close to Tyrosh, so the Tyroshi faced the greatest threat.
As for the Dothraki, their expressions conveyed belligerence and curiosity.
"There is only one fire in the world, the light of R'hllor!" No one spoke much with Gendry, only the fat Red Priest came forward to converse with him.
"We are here to see the princess, why are you chattering so much?" Gendry gestured, and Jorah looked rudely at the Red Priest, who then slunk away.
These Red Priests of R'hllor were all fanatics, and Gendry had no interest in chatting with them further.
Not much time had passed before dozens of strong men carried a palanquin into the courtyard, bearing Illyrio and the Targaryen siblings.
Two servants walked ahead, carrying beautifully decorated oil lamps with pale blue glass covers.
When the curtain was drawn, the main characters finally appeared.
A Free Army soldier helped Daenerys out of the palanquin, along with her brother Viserys, who held a borrowed sword.
The fat man Illyrio also disembarked from his palanquin, assisted by several people.
"Viserys III of House Targaryen," the chief eunuch announced in a high-pitched, sweet voice, "King of the andals, the rhoynar, and the first men, ruler of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.
His sister, Daenerys stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone.
His patron, Illyrio Mopatis, Magistrate of the Free City of Pentos."
The three passed the eunuch and entered the courtyard, filled with stone pillars and climbing pale ivy, whose leaf shadows were tinged silver by the moonlight, like bone.
Daenerys nervously stepped into the courtyard; she understood that today was a transaction, her brother and Magistrate Illyrio were selling her to a Mercenary King.
She was also the only woman present.
"By the pillars are Khal Moro and his son, Rogolo, and the one with the green beard is the Archon of Tyrosh's brother," Illyrio introduced them.
"And more importantly, little princess.
That is the Mercenary King.
Mercenaries can have many titles; he is warhammer, he can also be called Magistrate and Commander-in-Chief!" Illyrio introduced Daenerys.
"Behind the King is his guard, Ser Jorah Mormont! An exiled knight from Westeros!" Besides Ser Jorah, behind the Mercenary King were the Unsullied wearing black leather armor.
Daenerys was very interested in Ser Jorah, a knight from her homeland, Westeros.
But she was more interested in the Mercenary King, timidly scrutinizing the man Viserys hoped to win over, the man who would ask to marry her before the feast ended.
The stories Daenerys had heard were true.
The Mercenary King was very tall, yet his movements were remarkably agile and light, his lithe figure comparable to a leopard in a menagerie.
The Mercenary King's short, charcoal-black hair was like the Long Night, but his eyes were as blue as the sea, strong, resilient eyes.
Unfortunately, the King's face was obscured by a crude iron mask, preventing a full view.
However, Daenerys felt he couldn't be too old, as there might still be some hidden warmth, belonging to a young man, in those eyes.
"I will state our purpose!" Illyrio said.
"I will bring him over."
"Truly the most beautiful woman." Gendry was also watching Daenerys.
Daenerys was petite and exceptionally beautiful, with silver-gold hair and purple eyes.
She was the last descendant of House Targaryen, a true dragon.
Gendry waited for Illyrio's arrival, the fat man waddled to his side, extending his plump, jewel-laden fingers.
The alliance between the fat man and Varys surely knew his background, but the fat man did not know that he understood the overall situation, which was his advantage.
"Respected Magistrate, please come with me, I am delighted to facilitate this auspicious event!"
"I will thank you!" Gendry looked at Illyrio, the fat man's smile so sweet, likely still believing that bringing Robert's Bastard and the Targaryen remnant together was a malicious joke.
But Gendry also had to thank Illyrio; Daenerys was also a kind of destiny.
Gendry walked towards Daenerys, dressed in black velvet embroidered with the white Wolf Pack emblem.
His hair was as black as eternal night, and his eyes were as captivating as the sea.
He wore no crown, his honor his sole companion.
Gendry's rough black iron mask made Daenerys wonder about the face beneath—was it beautiful or coarse, scarred or pockmarked, why did he wear a mask?
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