Chapter 90: Drogo

"This is my son, Drogo."

Khal Balbo sat casually on the throne of ivory and gold, his braids, slightly mixed with gray hair, hanging down his back. His pale amber eyes swept over everyone present.

He then patted his son Drogo on the shoulder and proudly introduced him in Dothraki.

"He is the greatest horse warrior in the world, destined to lead the Khalasar of Kalasa."

The old Khal's bloodriders stood behind him, their arakhs hanging at their waists, glaring fiercely at the surrounding magisters of Pentos, including the young King Viserys not far away.

The Khal's son Drogo, seated next to his father, was wiping the blood from his hands with the fine silk cloth that had just been placed on the table of the Prince of Pentos.

Drogo seemed somewhat silent and reticent, but he had not hesitated at all when he killed the herald symbolizing war just now, as easily as if he had pinched a chick to death.

Then Drogo heard his father's voice, raised his head slightly, and uttered only a low "hmm," without saying much.

His deep, dark gaze surveyed everyone present, lingering briefly on Viserys before moving on.

The quiet son of the Khal wasn't targeting Viserys; Drogo simply found it strange that such a young man would appear at this high-profile banquet.

The great hall was silent, filled only with hushed whispers.

Translators fluent in Dothraki were interpreting the words of the Horse Lord for their respective masters. All the magisters exchanged glances, unsure what to say.

Viserys, without a translator, did not understand what Khal Balbo was saying. He simply sat quietly in his seat, scrutinizing everyone present with an appraising gaze.

He found the banquet increasingly interesting, with a new discovery every second.

At first, Viserys was astonished by the barbaric rudeness of the Dothraki, shouting and yelling in the magnificent hall.

But as he watched the old Khal and his bloodriders charge up the steps, Viserys's thoughts shifted again, this time to the weakness of Pentos.

The drama did not stop there. Every minute, every second, there was a surprising revelation. The Prince of Pentos was so frightened by the Horse Lord that he wet his pants and was chased off the throne, cowering in a corner.

The herald, holding the steel longsword symbolizing war, was killed outright by the terrifying young Dothraki man, his body tossed down the steps.

Yet, the magisters of Pentos were frightened like cicadas in winter, wishing they could shrink their heads into their necks. None dared to speak up. Surprisingly, Viserys was the one who stood straightest among the "nobles" present.

"This..."

The intensity of these scenes left Viserys utterly shocked.

"Pentos... has become this weak?"

Viserys never imagined that a few Dothraki could so easily humiliate the magisters of Pentos.

Although the Prince of Pentos was merely a symbolic puppet, his humiliation as the nominal ruler of the city-state by the Dothraki, and the silence of the magisters, was astonishing. Moreover, this was happening in Pentos, their own territory.

When Viserys arrived in Pentos with 4,000 elite Andal warriors, the city was thrown into chaos, not even able to close its gates.

Yet at that time, Viserys still held a faint reverence for the ancient city-state.

After all, the towering walls and magnificent architecture all spoke of Pentos's deep and enduring history.

Andalos, although miraculously rising rapidly, was still far behind a massive city-state like Pentos in terms of historical heritage, population, economy, and military.

Although it seemed that Pentos couldn't even muster an army of ten thousand men at the moment, that was due to the constraints of humiliating treaties. Pentos still possessed considerable potential for war.

Now...

Viserys's last bit of reverence in his heart had vanished not long ago, leaving only cold observation of the farce unfolding before him, and even a hint of inner restlessness.

Subsequently, Viserys heard Khal Balbo mutter something in Dothraki, and then he slapped the young Dothraki beside him.

The Dothraki that Viserys had been watching for a long time raised his head and looked around. Everyone present swallowed hard when faced with the son of the Khal, and quickly lowered their heads, not daring to meet his eyes directly.

However, his gaze lingered on Viserys for a moment. The young king happened to be looking at him at the time.

Their eyes met.

Those deep, black eyes were as calm as an ancient well, as if they were examining a piece of prey.

Viserys, however, felt an intense sense of danger from his scalp to his heels, as if his instincts were warning him to stay away from a beast that could threaten his life.

"This guy..."

The young king's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his fingers on the table clenched involuntarily.

But Drogo's gaze only lingered on Viserys for a second, and then their eyes moved away from each other.

"Khal Balbo just said that person is his son, named Drogo."

"He is... one of the best mounted warriors in the world."

And at that moment...

Illyrio, who was sitting next to Viserys, watched the recent drama unfold with a similarly cold gaze, his face betraying no emotion. Then he whispered into Viserys's ear.

Illyrio didn't have a translator with him; he seemed to understand Dothraki himself.

"Hmm."

Viserys nodded slightly, then paused for a moment before turning his head to look at the wealthy Magister beside him.

"Magister, what did you say Khal Balbo's son's name is?"

Illyrio hesitated for a moment, then explained once again.

"Drogo."

"Drogo?"

Viserys sat in his chair, deep in thought for a while, blinking his eyes before taking a deep breath.

In fact, when suddenly faced with the man who would kill him in the original timeline, he thought he would be afraid and panicked. After all, not many people could face their own mortality with indifference, especially the one who would take their life.

But the reality was...

Viserys tried to feel for any such emotions, but discovered that his heart didn't seem to harbor them.

He just suddenly felt...

Fate, ineffable.