Chapter 84: The Prince of Pentos

Soon after.

Clip-clop—

The carriage traversed the entire city, finally entering the winding upward path paved with bluestone slabs.

When Illyrio reached this point, he no longer felt the pain in his buttocks. He had arrived at the foot of the castle's hill, where the road was extremely smooth, and even the carriage could not feel any bumps.

Illyrio sat curiously in the carriage, examining the modest castle on the hill. The Targaryen banner, with its black background and three-headed dragon, hung atop the castle.

As a former assassin and mercenary, he could tell that the castle's construction focused primarily on defense, with arrow slits and battlements everywhere.

Although the Andalos Castle was simple, made of mud, wood, and stone, its elevated position offered a panoramic view and made it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

To conquer this castle, Illyrio, who had never led an army, estimated that at least two to three thousand men would be needed, and half of them might lose their lives in the process.

"What kind of person is Viserys Targaryen..."

Illyrio became intensely curious about Viserys.

He knew that Viserys had only gradually gained power after the death of his mother, Queen Rhaella, and was still quite young.

Yet, he had managed to establish a vast city on a land with little resources, which was nothing short of astonishing.

Although Illyrio did not understand the concept of religious faith and nationalism as double-edged swords, he knew that Viserys had spent a lot of money.

"Can money really buy a city?"

Illyrio contemplated the idea. As the Magister of Pentos, there were many Magisters, but none as refreshing as being a lord of a city.

However, this was just a thought.

Illyrio, who had climbed from the ranks of mercenaries and assassins to become the Magister of Pentos, was no fool. He knew his abilities and was well aware of his limitations.

He was already struggling with management, let alone building a city from scratch.

Subsequently.

After verifying the identity of the carriage.

Rumble—

The gates of Andalos Castle opened wide, allowing the convoy to enter.

Illyrio's carriage was in the middle of the procession, accompanied by fifty soldiers and gifts for Viserys, including gold, silver, treasures, and Pentos' specialty wine 'White Amber,' filling ten large wagons.

The carriage stopped within the castle, and the soldiers unloaded the cargo, bringing out several men and women in shackles. These were slaves sent as gifts to Viserys.

Although Pentos officially banned slave trading, everyone knew that it was impossible to prevent.

With the help of his servants, Illyrio laboriously descended from the carriage.

"Magister."

At that moment, a castle guard approached to guide the Magister of Pentos.

"His Majesty is waiting for you in the great hall."

...

Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis, followed the guard into the castle's great hall and took a seat. Soon, a maid brought him tea.

The great hall appeared simple but not shabby. Windows on both sides of the walls were opened, allowing sunlight to pour in and brighten the room. Two rows of carved stone pillars supported the ceiling, and the floor was paved with patterned marble tiles.

At the end of the hall, a heavy black throne sat atop a platform, flanked by two exquisitely crafted black and gold brocades. The Targaryen family's emblem, featuring a black background and a three-headed dragon, adorned the surface of the silk.

As Illyrio took in the details of the great hall, a flurry of footsteps echoed from behind the hall.

"Your Majesty."

The guard's respectful voice.

"Indeed."

And a calm, steady voice.

The doors at the rear of the hall opened, and a figure emerged from two walkways behind the throne, surrounded and attended like the center of a constellation.

Illyrio put down his teacup, quickly stood up from his chair, and offered a slight bow.

"Your Majesty."

Viserys had just removed his armor, changing into more formal attire.

His squire, Ser Bess, had also removed his dented armor, replacing it with lighter, more decorative armor, before following Viserys over.

"Magister, please sit."

Viserys sat on his throne, gesturing to Illyrio, who then returned to his seat, the chair creaking under his weight.

Viserys' guard, Bess, stood behind the throne with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other behind his back.

"I've heard of Your Majesty's reputation long ago, and I'm honored to meet you this time."

Illyrio sat back down and spoke first, looking at the silver-haired young man on the throne.

This was the young king of House Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen III.

When Viserys had entered with his guards, Illyrio was indeed impressed. Although his orientation was normal, and he appreciated beautiful women, Viserys' appearance was so handsome that even men couldn't help but admire.

Viserys' elder brother, Rhaegar, had once captivated countless women throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and young Viserys had always resembled Rhaegar in appearance.

Viserys, sitting on the throne and hearing Illyrio's flattery, remained calm and composed. He had heard such words countless times before, and they no longer stirred him. He then nodded slightly.

"Magister, you're too kind."

"What brings you to Andalos this time, Magister?"

Viserys didn't continue to beat around the bush with Illyrio but asked directly.

"Of course, I have come to present a great gift to Your Majesty and befriend Your Majesty."

Illyrio, seated confidently, spoke.

"Befriend?"

"How do we become friends?"

Viserys raised an eyebrow upon hearing Illyrio's words.

"Of course."

"You accept the gift, and we become friends."

Illyrio laughed heartily, his fat jiggling, and the chair beneath him groaning in protest.

"A great gift?"

Viserys, however, remained unmoved and continued to inquire.

"Naturally, a great gift!"

Clap, clap, clap—

Illyrio, the Magister of Pentos, clapped his hands, and his servants entered carrying a dazzling array of gold, silver, and jewels.

...