Gray-white ash drifted through the skies above the Dragonpit, making it look as though snow were falling.
At the bottom of the vast crater, ravenous flames devoured an endless stream of fuel cast into them.
That fuel consisted of countless copies of The Seven-Pointed Star.
Robert had earned himself a new nickname:
Robert the Book Burner.
He did not care.
Cheap bread distributed throughout King's Landing had soothed the smallfolk.
The miracles displayed by the red priests had silenced much of the nobility.
Most importantly, Viserys had publicly declared his intention to exterminate the great houses of the northern Five Kingdoms down to their extended families.
They no longer had a choice.
Besides, Viserys would soon be finished.
Who would have imagined that he would be foolish enough to make an enemy of a god?
With his confidence restored, Robert even found himself in the mood to discuss marriage arrangements with his oldest friend.
"Sansa's already eight years old," Robert said cheerfully. "Why don't we settle the children's betrothal before we march to war?"
He had always been obsessed with becoming Eddard's goodfather.
Of course, it was more than just strengthening their friendship.
Lyanna had been confirmed to be in Gohor.
Among the great houses, House Stark had received the lightest punishment in Viserys's proclamations.
At least their heads would remain attached to their shoulders.
If Eddard ever rebelled because of Lyanna, the consequences would be disastrous.
Only a marriage alliance could bind House Stark tightly enough to put Robert's mind at ease.
Jon Arryn, foster father to both men, clearly shared the same concern.
"Ned, I think Robert has the right idea. Sansa may still be young, but the children seem to get along well enough. What do you think?"
Although the entire known world was preparing to destroy House Targaryen, they could not afford even the smallest mistake.
After all, Viserys had transformed an exiled family into a rising empire.
And now he possessed dragons.
Even if they eventually conquered Gohor, Viserys might still escape with those dragons.
If they were allowed another decade to mature, he could return and wreak vengeance upon the Seven Kingdoms.
Jon would not truly rest until he saw Viserys's severed head.
Faced with the expectations, or perhaps the pressure, coming from both Robert and his foster father, Eddard almost agreed immediately.
Instead, after staring silently at the crimson carpet beneath his feet, he finally said:
"Sansa is still a child. What girl is married off at eight or nine years old?"
Robert's smile twitched ever so slightly.
Had it not been for the years of genuine brotherhood between them, and Eddard's unwavering loyalty despite Viserys's growing power, Robert might have lost his temper then and there.
Jon sensed the tension at once and hurried to smooth things over.
"Ned, no one's suggesting the wedding happen immediately. Just the betrothal. Besides, they're children. What do they know?"
The aging Hand managed a rare joke.
The atmosphere in the room eased considerably.
Eddard gave a small nod. It was as much agreement as anyone was likely to get.
At that moment, footsteps echoed outside the chamber.
All three men looked toward the doorway.
Each reacted differently.
Robert smiled.
Jon looked uneasy, almost apprehensive.
Eddard's expression grew complicated, his gray eyes carrying unmistakable hostility.
The newcomer was Thoros.
His hurried pace alone suggested he had not come bearing good news. The moment he spoke, everyone's nerves tightened.
"Your Grace, Viserys has captured Pentos."
The room instantly fell silent.
"When?" Robert demanded.
"Last night."
That was the true advantage granted by the Lord of Light. Information could be shared almost instantly.
Under ordinary circumstances, news like this would have taken at least a week to arrive.
Jon recovered first.
Turning toward Robert and Eddard, he said calmly:
"Pentos has been infiltrated by the Targaryens for years. This outcome isn't entirely unexpected.
The whole world is already preparing for war against House Targaryen. The loss of one city won't change the overall situation."
Robert and Eddard quickly accepted the news.
Both were veterans who had lived through war.
If they could no longer invade through Pentos, they would simply land on the Braavosi coast, unite with Braavos, and advance southward instead.
Together, their combined forces would number at least two hundred to three hundred thousand men.
Braavos would provide overwhelming naval and logistical support.
Viewed from that perspective, the fall of Pentos was hardly catastrophic.
Compared to Viserys rising from the flames or hatching dragons, it barely seemed worth mentioning.
Soon afterward, Robert received another report that lifted his spirits.
Dorne had halted its military mobilization.
The ten thousand troops it had already assembled had stopped at the Prince's Pass.
House Martell would not interfere with his eastern campaign.
Meanwhile, in Highgarden, Lady Olenna had already sent her granddaughter, the young Margaery, toward the Stormlands.
Before Robert's invasion began, Renly would marry her.
Had Robert ever read the writings of another world's famous Hand of the King, he might have declared:
"The south is secure, and our armies are ready."
Instead, Jon voiced much the same sentiment.
"The south has been stabilized. Our forces are fully prepared. It is time to summon the lords and begin planning the eastern campaign."
He then turned respectfully toward Thoros. "High Priest Thoros, you have our thanks."
Jon inclined his head.
Thoros returned the gesture with equal courtesy.
To spread the faith of the Lord of Light even further, red priests had become just as indispensable to the great lords as maesters.
Naturally, they did not carry personal correspondence for the nobility.
Their loyalty belonged solely to House Baratheon and the Lord of Light.
Their only duty was to deliver the king's commands.
Before long, armies from the five northern kingdoms began marching toward King's Landing, Storm's End, and White Harbor.
Over the years, Robert had commissioned the construction of countless ships.
So much timber had been harvested from the Kingswood that nearly half the forest had disappeared.
Even if Westeros lacked enough transports, it hardly mattered.
Braavos would provide the rest.
After all, they boasted of launching a new ship every day. Now was the perfect opportunity to prove it.
To accelerate the mustering of his armies and set foot on Essos as quickly as possible, Robert issued another royal decree.
The first host to reach its assigned gathering point would receive a reward of one hundred thousand gold dragons.
As Hand of the King, Jon had spent years balancing the crown's finances.
Raising even one hundred thousand gold dragons usually required exhausting negotiations and endless accounting.
Robert, however, tossed out the sum as casually as if it were pocket change.
Jon almost suggested lowering the reward. Then he remembered Petyr Baelish.
That capable and trustworthy young master of coin would soon return from Braavos with several million gold dragons to replenish the royal treasury.
With that reassuring thought, he silently accepted Robert's decision.
Before a great war, generous rewards were often necessary.
Once the proclamation spread, every lord from the Wall to Highgarden, from the Westerlands to the Eyrie, drove his forces toward their nearest assembly point with all possible speed.
Even Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands answered the call, dispatching three thousand ironborn warriors to join the coming war.
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