Lothan brought back both Viserys's terms and what he had witnessed to the Elder Council.
"These filthy peasants!" Terno slammed his hand on the table, furious.
When he learned that not even Lothan's personal appeal had persuaded anyone to return, smoke practically poured from his ears.
All he did was collect a few extra taxes, and for that, they dared to betray him?
"When our army gets there, we'll sell them all off to Volantis!"
Gafas smoothed out the velvet robe he wore and spoke with a composed tone.
"That won't work! If you sell them all, who's going to farm the fields? Who's going to fight the wars? Unless you're willing to give me a few thousand men yourself?"
Terno rejected the suggestion immediately.
Watching the others argue, Lothan could only sigh helplessly.
"Send word to Freygo. Tell him what's happening here," he said at last.
Their biggest advantage—their water sorcery—had already been neutralized. Their armies' weapons and equipment were also inferior to those of the Targaryens. At this point, their only real hope lay with Braavos.
So, after some deliberation, the council decided to dispatch a fleet.
They would travel along the Upper Rhoyne—the same route Viserys had taken to reach Gohor. First they'd reach the coast near Braavos, then make a transfer and continue on to Braavos itself.
But that round trip by river and carriage would take more than a month. That meant they'd have to endure Viserys's pressure for at least that long.
Their fleet, however, encountered problems almost immediately.
Viserys had slyly set up a checkpoint.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't even a real checkpoint. Officially, he claimed they were "repairing the bridge," and therefore no vessels were allowed to pass.
But the Valyrians had already built a bridge there long ago. There was no reason for him to be the one to "repair" it.
When questioned, the response was that they were "reinforcing" the bridge.
In the end, the result was the same—they were blocked.
They could have tried to force their way through, but that would have meant declaring all-out war.
With no other option, they had to switch to carriages. The journey became even longer.
Meanwhile, the food shortages among the Rhoynar began to worsen.
To make matters worse, three of the elders—excluding Lothan—used the excuse of being "in a state of war" to increase taxes on the common folk.
This pushed the lower Rhoynar into even more desperate straits.
Many had earned Braavosi iron coins working for Viserys and thought they could use that money to buy grain. But prices were climbing sharply.
They tried to purchase food from nearby Norvos, only to be told there was no surplus grain for sale that year.
Some of the wealthier Rhoynar could still afford to buy food imported from Volantis, but even for them, the costs were becoming unbearable.
For most, it was nothing more than a drop in the bucket.
"Your Grace, today we've received another seven hundred and eighty-three Rhoynar," Clement reported to Viserys.
The recruitment task he'd given earlier was simple: bring people in.
For each person brought over, the recruiter would receive twenty pounds of grain or the equivalent in Braavosi iron coins.
The strategy was working spectacularly.
Viserys didn't mind spending this money and grain at all—it had all come from plundering Terno's estate.
And not long ago, Oberyn had secured a shipment of supplies from Pentos at a low price. He'd also wrung a hefty sum of gold out of Illyrio.
After the victory over Terno, Viserys's ambitions and plans had grown bolder.
Before the next sowing season, he intended to bring all of Gohor under his control.
Only by achieving self-sufficiency in grain could he secure his position in Essos.
But he was fully aware that the only reason he could currently bargain between Pentos and Braavos was because neither believed he could subjugate the Rhoynar quickly.
If either city learned he was absorbing the Rhoynar population, both might strike against him immediately.
Their armies could sail down either the Lower or Upper Rhoyne and bring their forces straight to his doorstep.
They could easily raise seventy to eighty thousand troops.
If Braavos learned that Pentos intended to attack Gohor, they might even temporarily relax their ban on hiring mercenaries.
They might go so far as to contact Robert Baratheon and let that fat stag join the fray. Even if Viserys could win militarily, they could still blockade Gohor economically.
Over time, that would stifle its growth.
Because of this, Viserys shared his concerns with his inner circle and the Kingsguard.
"We can expand the army. With our current population, raising another twenty thousand troops isn't a problem," Oswell suggested.
"Yes, Your Grace. Many of your personal guards are outstanding, and quite a few have the potential to become commanders. They could lead your forces," Arthur added.
The two warriors had surprisingly similar ways of thinking.
If necessary, Viserys would consider their advice. But even that couldn't solve the looming threat of an economic blockade.
"Then your only real option left is Norvos. They might be willing to help," Oberyn said as he studied the map.
Norvos was deep in the mountains and not easy to access, but it was still more practical than relying on Sunspear.
"If only we could get the fleet inside… Then we could not only protect the city better, but also use the warships for trade in peacetime," came the suggestion—from Old Crab, naturally.
The middle section of the Rhoyne between Gohor and Nasar lay in a lawless zone, plagued by pirates who terrorized nearby villages and towns.
At its peak, the Dragonstone fleet had boasted over two hundred ships.
Later, Viserys had sold some of the older warships and converted merchant vessels to Freygo. Now, around one hundred and fifty to sixty ships remained.
Even bringing half of them up the river would give him control over nearly a third of the Rhoyne's length, turning it into his de facto domain.
"Well said. I wonder if Ser Adrian has any brilliant ideas for how to get the ships through?" Oberyn said with a grin.
Old Crab shot him a glare and turned his head away with a snort.
He knew perfectly well how difficult this was.
Volantis controlled the Rhoyne's mouth. They would never allow a second sizable fleet to sail past and challenge their dominance of the river.
If Viserys wanted to get his fleet through their checkpoint, the only way would be to force it.
And even if by some miracle they succeeded, they would then face the second great obstacle—Chroyane.
Chroyane had once been the Rhoynar's festival city, but it had been destroyed by Valyria's dragons.
Legend said that before dying, Prince Garin of Chroyane cursed the Valyrians and Volantenes. One night, the Rhoyne rose in a massive flood, drowning the invaders.
Since then, thick gray fog had permanently shrouded the city, carrying with it the dreaded greyscale plague.
Over a thousand years later, the ruins had become a refuge for the diseased.
Anyone who ventured too close risked infection.
"Isn't Ser Davos a smuggler? Maybe he'll have an idea," Old Crab muttered, clearly unwilling to give up entirely.
No one, however, took the suggestion seriously.
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