The moment Viserys heard the news of Weymond's defeat, he didn't waste a single second.
He didn't sail with Gemon Goneris's fleet to Torture Bay. Instead he took a hand-picked company of Black Knights and landed at the mouth of the Rhoyne.
There he gathered the shattered remnants of Dorya's army, then force-marched them west, back to the old frontier the Volantenes still called the Shield of Tagaros.
That string of fortified villages and strongholds had guarded the western roads and passes since the Century of Blood.
Viserys meant to make his stand there and meet the Golden Company in open battle.
The situation, however, was not nearly as grim as it first appeared.
Volantis and its colonies remained obedient. No revolts. No riots.
Harry Strickland had marched his victorious company back to Myr. According to the spies, he had flatly refused the local council's demand to press the attack into the First Daughter's territory.
The meticulous exile had explained to the furious governors that the first clause of their contract limited the Golden Company to the defense of Myr and its lands.
The rulers of Myr, who now depended entirely on the company's military strength, had no choice but to swallow their anger and accept the decision.
By choosing to remain camped outside Myr, Strickland had given Viserys precious breathing room to regroup his scattered and weakened forces across Essos.
The Tyroshi and their hired admiral, Euron Greyjoy, were locked in a bloody stalemate with Gemon Goneris's Volantene fleet among the Stepstones.
Both sides had gained almost nothing.
Euron and his men had launched several painful, precise raids, but they still dared not strike Lys itself or try to retake Torture Bay.
Goneris held the southern islands of the Stepstones, yet he could never pin down the Silence or the rest of the pirate fleet.
On sea and land alike, a fragile balance held.
The early hopes were gone. What Viserys needed now was gold and time.
Myr was too weak to mount a unified, powerful counterattack. That bought him a short reprieve.
But gold he would have to squeeze from loyal Volantis and conquered Lys.
To do it, Viserys left the Shield of Tagaros and returned to the capital of the new Freehold—the city being reborn in blood and fire.
"You're certain Strickland will accept the deal?" Renigar asked. "The Myrmen will never let Weymond go easily. Especially after we executed their envoys. They may take their anger out on the highborn prisoners."
Viserys didn't let his co-ruler finish.
"Weymond is lucky to be in Golden Company hands. Those men never pass up a chance to turn a profit, and they never mistreat a hostage worth a fortune." The Triarch poured himself another cup of water as he spoke.
The meeting had barely begun. He needed a clear head. "Besides, Myr's position is far from strong. Defeating Dorya didn't rebuild their ruined villages, didn't bring their enslaved citizens home, and didn't fill their treasury. Strickland knows better than anyone that he is no longer the only prize the two defeated cities are chasing. He needs a large sum of gold quickly. I'm certain he won't refuse a generous ransom for one of Volantis's three Triarchs."
"But the problem is us…" Renigar sighed heavily and shrugged. "We don't have spare gold to throw around either."
Viserys knew that all too well.
Driving off Khal Drogo's invasion, the Targaryen seizure of power, and the opening months of the war against the Three Daughters had devoured coin like quicksand swallowing water.
The swift capture of Lys and its wealth had offered hope, but Weymond Dorya's crushing defeat outside Myr had shattered every plan.
"That's no reason to give up," Viserys said after a sip of water. "It's a reason to find more money."
"We could debase the coinage," Menyx suggested. "Though that…"
"There's still time," Viserys sighed, knowing the measure would eventually be necessary. "The common people have already bled and sweated. They shouldn't be the first to pay. Otherwise we're handing our enemies a knife."
The list of expenses was endless.
The three Triarchs of the Black Stone Throne had ambitious plans, and ambition always came with staggering costs.
Viserys had never intended to settle for an acceptable ending to the war. He wanted total victory.
Only a complete, unconditional triumph would let the Targaryens plant their power in Volantis beyond any challenge.
Only by crushing Myr and Tyrosh could he safely prepare the crossing to Westeros without fearing a dagger in the back from old enemies at the worst possible moment.
In his last life he had trusted Quentyn and Aegon's assurances that their army could smash the loyalist host before Dornish reinforcements arrived. He had been wrong.
He would not repeat that mistake.
His plan was already moving forward, slowly and painfully, but it needed astronomical sums of gold to keep going.
That was why Viserys Targaryen had summoned his financially gifted co-ruler over lunch.
At the thought of the coming confrontation, Menyx Renigar shivered.
He pulled a sheet of parchment toward him, picked up a quill, and began drawing symbols only he could read.
He claimed it helped him focus.
"I believe we should start with Lys," Menyx began, analyzing carefully. "That's the easiest and least painful option for the Old Blood. The great houses of both the Elephant and Tiger parties have almost no friends or family there. People are always happy to let someone else foot the bill. Admiral Goneris can handle the collection when the time comes. He has… plenty of persuasive reasons. But you intend to demand an extra two million gold dragons on top of the already agreed indemnity. That's a huge sum, and if you refuse to scale back your plans, it still won't be enough."
"No, Menyx. No discussion. Half-measures won't save us. The enemy is playing for keeps. We have to answer in kind." Viserys's tone was sharper than he had intended. "In addition, inform Goneris he must extract another five hundred thousand from the rest of the island. Gold, jewels, luxury goods, slaves—anything. Preferably gold."
"If we drain Lys this quickly we'll destroy the city entirely," Menyx warned. "Famine, unrest, rebellion will follow."
"I've stationed reliable elite troops on Lys. They can crush any riot if necessary." Viserys waved the concern aside. "I would rather sacrifice some Lysene citizens than lose my own soldiers to poor equipment and short supplies. But you're right. We must leave Lys enough to survive on."
The co-ruler drew a near-perfect circle in blue ink.
"Even so, Lys alone won't be enough," Renigar sighed. "I suggest we approach the twenty wealthiest families in Volantis and ask each to contribute two hundred thousand gold coins to the treasury. Of course they won't give it for nothing. If we formally promise the Old Blood that they will be repaid double from the spoils of Myr and Tyrosh after victory… we may be able to strike a deal. It will also let them prove their loyalty. Without gold they'll have less coin for plots."
"Good idea, Menyx. I never wanted to borrow from these friends anyway. Get me the best terms you can."
Viserys knew exactly what had happened while he was gone.
He was satisfied with Daenerys's performance. She had seen through the Elephant Party's scheme, held the rear steady, and with Eleonora's help had compiled a detailed list of suspicious Old Blood nobles.
But the Elephant Party and its sympathizers had made no real move. Nothing that would justify sending them to the headsman.
Inside and outside the Black Wall there had been no rebellion, no incitement.
No one had tried to harm Daenerys, Menyx, Vamar, or any of the Targaryen supporters.
After that unforgettable Council meeting, the subject of peace talks had never been raised again.
Viserys was certain the Old Blood nobles would not simply give up, but he could not risk openly escalating the conflict.
Doubts remained. The Elephant Party had lost its recognized leader and was full of internal grudges. Some had even grown rich from the ongoing war.
If he began mass arrests and executions now—right after a crushing defeat and without Valyrian-steel proof—he would almost certainly drive every neutral supporter straight into the opposition.
Those Old Blood nobles were as quiet as the waters of the Rhoyne and as low-profile as Dothraki grass. They gave him no opening.
He had no desire to act like a stubborn tyrant who washed every rumor in the blood of his subjects.
For now he would accept the measures Daenerys had already taken.
She had kept order in Volantis. On her orders the guard had arrested everyone spreading panic in the squares or insulting the three Triarchs.
She had begun recruiting new militia and ordered the priests of every god in Volantis to pray daily for the First Daughter's victory while reporting any sign of treason among their flocks.
With those steps, and Viserys's timely return behind the Black Wall, the Targaryens had preserved the city's obedience.
Once the three rulers of the Black Stone Throne won a new victory, there would be time enough to settle old scores.
"But everyone must pay," Viserys said, reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment. "Including the merchants who come from the east. I suggest we raise tariffs on traders from Slaver's Bay, Qarth, and farther regions. What do you think?"
Cautious Menyx did not answer at once. He weighed, calculated, and thought deeply.
"Few merchants are willing to sail into a war zone. Everyone knows valuable cargo faces enormous risk. However…" Renigar allowed himself a faint smile. "The fighting is in the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands, not inside the First Daughter's borders. The Qartheen and Ghiscari can reroute, but it's dangerous and pointless unless they turn toward the Summer Islands. The Summer Islanders cannot consume all their goods, and their princes dislike foreign ships landing at will. We can raise port entry fees and inflate the price of supplies. When they sail home they must still pass the ruins of Valyria."
"That way the bulk of the price increase falls on the Old Blood nobles," Viserys said with quiet satisfaction. "Commoners cannot afford, and do not need, exotic goods from the distant east."
"The smallfolk will still have to tighten their belts…"