If five ships had been enough for Viserys to keep his movements hidden, fifty black-sailed warships were impossible to conceal.
Pentos, the city-state closest to Dragonstone, spotted the fleet shortly after it set sail.
Though the news of the Targaryens' eastward migration was already known, Pentos immediately raised its security levels.
At the same time, they sent out a ship to inquire about the fleet's destination—more specifically, to find out where Viserys had chosen as the destination for the Targaryen relocation.
When they learned that the Targaryens had chosen Gohor as their new home, the governors of Pentos quickly convened an emergency meeting.
At the head of the council room sat a man in a golden robe. Upon closer inspection, his robe was divided: the upper half was gold, while the lower half was blue.
Behind him stood two beautiful women, one in an apricot-colored dress and the other in a sea-blue gown.
This man was the Prince of Pentos, but his title was merely symbolic. He had no real power. True authority lay with the various governors of Pentos, who held sway over the city's affairs.
In fact, if disaster struck or a war was lost, the prince could be dragged out and sacrificed to the gods.
This had happened before—during their war with Braavos, four Pentosian princes had been executed following a defeat.
The man's name was Audro. He was nothing more than a figurehead in this meeting, observing as the governors argued around him.
His disinterest was apparent as he cast a glance at his two wives, who represented land and sea.
Audro knew they weren't virgins when they married him, and they had lost their virginity only shortly before their wedding—mere hours before their marriage night.
Audro had long sought power but knew it was an almost impossible task. He had given up once, but a recent event had reignited his ambitions.
Over two years ago, Illyrio, a rising figure, had divorced his cousin and fathered a child with a mysterious woman of unknown origins.
The insult stung Audro deeply, and it stirred his resolve once again.
'Targaryen, this might be my opportunity!'
Audro's gaze shifted to Illyrio, who was growing increasingly corpulent.
His massive head was covered in gold hair and a matching beard, and his pudgy fingers were adorned with a variety of brightly colored jewels.
Illyrio was being berated by the other governors.
"If we lose Gohor, it's all your fault!" one of the governors shouted. "You made unreasonable demands. Targaryen is no fool!"
Illyrio shot back, unflustered, "Targaryen isn't a fool? Then why did they choose Gohor? Just wait—Gohor will drain them dry. Maybe that Targaryen queen will end up in a brothel, raising an army for her son."
Illyrio's mood was foul. In less than a year, he had received the news of Varys's death, a blow that had stripped him of his once immense advantage in business intelligence.
Illyrio had risen from being an assassin to a wealthy merchant thanks to Varys's invaluable help in providing him with internal intelligence from across the kingdom.
This had allowed him to become one of the most powerful figures in Pentos, even enough to oust his cousin. But now, with Varys gone, Illyrio felt as if he had lost his eyes and ears.
He could feel his position in Pentos weakening.
But it wasn't just the loss of power that troubled him—it was something far darker. The question that gnawed at him was who had killed Varys?
Through his network, Illyrio had learned that the day after Varys's death, Rhaella had fled with her son.
Even Elia, despite the Mad King's order for her to remain, had disappeared. Furthermore, after Rhaella's flight to Dragonstone, the Targaryens had won two consecutive battles.
Illyrio came to a horrifying conclusion—whoever had killed Varys might be on Dragonstone now, or possibly even working for the Targaryens.
The person who had killed Varys was a formidable threat, and Illyrio feared this figure might be aware of his connections with Varys. More than that, he feared retribution.
Illyrio knew what he had to do: he had to leverage Pentos's influence to strangle the Targaryens in Gohor.
After fending off criticism from his political rivals, Illyrio stood and addressed the room.
"It's clear now that the Targaryens have aligned with Braavos, or at the very least, they've secured promises from them.
We must strengthen our agents in Gohor to handle this. Pointless bickering accomplishes nothing. Wasn't my plan intended to protect Pentos and all of your coin purses?"
His words carried weight, and soon the attacks on him ceased.
"I've heard that there are three Kingsguard accompanying the Targaryens.
Can we not try to bring them to our side?" said a silver-haired nobleman, who claimed to have Valyrian blood.
Perhaps that was why he had some sympathy for the Targaryens.
Illyrio knew he couldn't reveal his true intentions just yet.
"We don't know what price Braavos has exacted for their cooperation with Targaryen," he said.
"If we start currying favor with them now, the cost will only rise.
Do you really think we can match Braavos's wealth? It's better to let them suffer a little first, then we can discuss cooperation."
Illyrio's proposal was quickly accepted. The governors estimated that the Targaryens wouldn't reach Gohor for at least another month, and that would give them plenty of time—at least half a month—to strengthen their agents on the ground.
After the meeting concluded, Illyrio returned to his estate.
A beautiful woman with delicate features and shoulder-length silver-gold curls was waiting for him. She held a young boy with light golden hair in her arms.
This was his lover, Syla.
Illyrio had divorced his cousin for this woman, choosing her not only because of love, but because of a deeper secret:
She was a Blackfyre descendant, a fact his friend Varys had revealed to him.
This meant that Illyrio's son carried Targaryen blood.
As he gazed at his lover and their son, a thought formed in his mind: 'If I can eliminate Viserys and take control of the Targaryens, my son might one day sit on the Iron Throne.'
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