Seated upon the throne, Viserys sensed the restlessness among his ministers and allowed himself a satisfied smile.
Gohor had now grown strong enough to defend itself with ease.
Once he gathered a little more manpower, he would be ready to move against Westeros.
If anyone still wished to hide in safety and lacked the courage even to fight the horse lords, they could remain in Gohor forever.
Such men would never be given any chance to rise higher.
"A true dragon does not mate with beasts."
Viserys spoke the words calmly.
The statement was meant not only for the two barbarians before him, but also for the ministers listening above.
For that reason, the words carried a faintly ceremonial tone.
But his next explanation left no room for misunderstanding.
"What is this Drogo supposed to be? He dares to dream of marrying my sister?"
Viserys leaned forward slightly.
"Go back and tell your khal this. If he wants gold, if he wants people, he can come and take them himself.
"As for marriage, he is fit only to lick my sister's boots."
The warning was so blunt that it bordered on vulgarity.
Haggo and Kovarro could hardly believe what they had just heard. Such words had come from the mouth of a king.
He dared insult their khal so openly.
"So you have chosen war?" Kovarro asked in a low, dark voice.
But the young king had already lost interest in speaking with them. Viserys rose from the throne and turned away.
Soldiers in the hall began to advance.
The spearheads in their hands gleamed coldly. The clatter of armor made it clear that the two envoys were being driven out.
Viserys's stance made his intentions obvious to the watching ministers.
If he wished to reclaim the Iron Throne in the future, he needed a stable rear. The threat of the horse lords had to be removed.
For now, perhaps gold could buy peace.
But if the war in Westeros became difficult, there was no guarantee these barbarians would not strike from behind.
In short, the meaning was clear.
War was coming.
After being expelled from Gohor, Haggo and Kovarro parted ways.
Haggo disguised himself and traveled to Pentos. Kovarro returned to Drogo's khalasar to report.
When the men of Volantis, Pentos, and Braavos heard Viserys's response, they were delighted.
If he had chosen compromise and endless negotiation, the situation would have been troublesome.
Instead, Viserys had refused entirely.
He had not even left a shred of courtesy.
According to reports, when Haggo and Kovarro were thrown out of Gohor, the guards had even kicked them in the rear.
It was now obvious.
War between Gohor and Drogo was inevitable.
Inside a secret estate in Pentos, representatives of four factions gathered together.
Braavos, the Dothraki, Volantis, and Pentos.
They met to discuss how to deal with Viserys.
"Lord Haggo, that was not merely a kick to your backside," Tormo said with deliberate provocation after hearing Haggo's story. "It was a slap to Khal Drogo's face."
Tormo was desperate for revenge.
Fifty thousand soldiers had been lost attacking Gohor. No commander in the history of Braavos had suffered such humiliation.
His dream of becoming Sea Lord had collapsed completely.
Even the Zalyne family, whom he and Freygo had once suppressed together, now dared mock him openly.
He needed a victory to wash away the shame.
Gohor would be that victory.
Haggo felt something strange about Tormo's metaphor but could not quite explain why.
Before he could think it through, a governor of Pentos continued the provocation.
"Lord Haggo, this Viserys has never tasted defeat. Khal Drogo could defeat grown men at the age of seven. But Viserys dared go to war at seven and even won.
"He looks down on everyone. The Targaryens call themselves true dragons. Dragons fly in the sky and see all others as prey."
Alios of Volantis spoke next.
"Indeed. Think about it. He called the great Khal Drogo a beast. Is that not an insult?"
Alios was currently preparing his campaign to become Triarch. If he could accomplish this, it would be a great achievement to boast of.
At this moment, however, Haggo reacted unexpectedly.
"Our khal is indeed a beast," he said proudly. "He is the fiercest beast of all."
Alios twitched slightly.
Speaking with these barbarians was exhausting.
He suspected that the man before him had not read as many books in his life as Alios read in a single day.
So Alios quickly changed his approach.
"In the language of Westeros," he explained patiently, "beast and livestock are the same thing. Think about it. He compared your khal to cattle and sheep. Is that right?"
"That is not right!"
This time Haggo understood perfectly.
"We must show them our strength. The four of us will join forces and destroy the Targaryen city!"
Nearby, Illyrio and Audro watched the scene silently. They exchanged a brief glance before looking away again.
Audro was Viserys's man placed openly within Pentos.
Illyrio, meanwhile, was the one providing secret support.
Everything discussed in that alliance meeting was soon delivered to Viserys's desk without a single detail missing.
In truth, Alios and the others were reluctant. None of them could conquer Gohor alone.
Even two working together would struggle.
Three factions together would only create conflict, since Braavos and Volantis distrusted each other.
And then there was Pentos, whose loyalties seemed almost divided.
In the end, they decided on another strategy.
Each faction would pressure Viserys from a different direction, creating opportunities for the Dothraki to attack.
Even if the first attack failed, it did not matter.
Dothraki cavalry moved like the wind. Viserys would find it difficult to destroy them completely.
And during summer, the Dothraki possessed endless strength for war. If nothing else, they could simply exhaust him.
Haggo was easily persuaded.
After receiving several gifts, he returned to the Dothraki Sea to present the plan to Drogo.
A gray spider crawled across the raised eye of a bronze statue.
A small droplet of sticky silk hung from its leg, glistening like a tear on the statue's face.
This place was known as the Avenue of the Gods. The Dothraki placed all the statues they had stolen from conquered lands here.
Some stood three or five meters tall. Others were only slightly taller than a man. The statues varied in size and material.
There were more than a hundred of them.
Displaying them like this was the Dothraki way of showing their strength.
Some were bronze.
Some were iron.
Some were made of fired clay.
One statue was even forged entirely from Valyrian steel. It depicted a dragon's body with the head of a man.
The statue stood more than four meters tall and stretched nearly three meters long.
It was only one half of a pair.
The other statue had the same dragon body but a woman's head.
That statue stood in the Velvet Hills northwest of the Goose Down Mountains, serving as the boundary marker between Braavos and Pentos.
Together, the two statues could produce at least ten thousand Valyrian steel swords.
Their value was immeasurable.
Following the avenue north led to the Dothraki holy mountain.
At the foot of the mountain lay a clear lake that shone like a jewel fallen from a god's crown.
The Dothraki called it the Womb of the World. The lake's shape resembled a woman's womb.
Beside it stood their sacred city, Vaes Dothrak.
Vaes Dothrak was enormous beyond imagination. Merchants from across the world could be found there.
Yet the city had no walls.
It did not even have proper buildings.
There was only one large fortress constructed almost entirely of wood. Within that fortress hall, Drogo summoned the other khals.
He announced his plan to march west and attack Gohor.
Drogo possessed the largest khalasar. Nearly forty thousand roaring warriors rode under his command.
He was the most successful khal in history. His strength was the greatest. Therefore he sat at the head of the gathering.
Among the Dothraki khals, his position resembled that of a war leader.
He alone could call such a council.
Now he sat proudly upon a throne carved from stone.
"The Targaryen holds the wealth of an entire continent," one khal said thoughtfully, stroking his beard.
"But he lacks roots. Too few of his men wear iron.
And the stone houses he lives in are not as strong as they appear. I believe we can test them."
This khal was known as Khal Jumo.
He was a devout believer in the prophecy of the Stallion Who Mounts the World.
After ten harsh winters, the Dothraki had only recently recovered their strength. During the winter even Pentos had stopped sending them tribute.
They were eager to prove their power to the world once again.
"What more is there to say?" another khal shouted loudly.
"Khal Drogo commands forty thousand roaring warriors. I command twenty thousand.
With sixty thousand riders, can we not conquer a small city built only a few years ago?"
The speaker was older than Drogo.
When he stood, his long braid swung behind him. The bells tied to it rang loudly.
Most were bronze, though two were gold.
He was Khal Ogo.
He was the second most powerful khal beneath Drogo. The twenty thousand riders he commanded gave him the confidence to challenge Drogo one day.
In truth, he had long dreamed of replacing him.
But Drogo was too powerful. His personal strength and the size of his khalasar both far surpassed Ogo's.
So Ogo hid his ambition deep within his heart.
Looking around the hall, he estimated that the assembled khals could gather more than one hundred thousand roaring warriors.
One hundred thousand riders.
Enough to sweep across the world.
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