The plains outside Pentos were shrouded in morning mist, and Illyrio stood on the slope, clutching a skin of fermented mare's milk, as hoofbeats emerged from the fog.
First to appear were the Dothraki scouts, riding bareback on swift steeds, their leather vests flapping in the wind; seeing Illyrio, they reined in their horses and warily raised their arakhs.
"I am Illyrio Targaryen, invited by Khal Drogo to coordinate the wedding arrangements." Illyrio slowly raised his hands, showing he was unarmed at his waist, then pointed to the skin in his arms, "This is fermented mare's milk for Lord Kohol, brought by Lord Illyrio."
The scouts exchanged glances, and one of them galloped into the fog, while the others remained, their eyes still fixed on Illyrio.
Soon after, a more concentrated sound of hoofbeats came from the fog, and a team of dozens of men charged out.
The leader was a burly man with Dothraki tribal tattoos on his face and two bronze arakhs at his waist — it was Kohol, Drogo's chief Blood Rider.
"You're the Targaryen boy Illyrio spoke of?" Kohol reined in his horse, his voice rough like grinding stones, his gaze sweeping over Illyrio's coarse wool coat with a hint of disdain, "Are Targaryen people all so shabbily dressed now?"
Illyrio ignored his taunt, stepped forward, and presented the skin of fermented mare's milk with both hands: "Lord Kohol, this is the finest fermented mare's milk in Pentos.
Lord Illyrio said you would enjoy its taste." He deliberately emphasized "Illyrio," both to bridge the distance and to hint at his backing.
Kohol took the skin, pulled out the stopper, and took a sip, his eyes brightening — this fermented mare's milk was richer than the aged brew of the Dothraki Sea, with a hint of honeyed sweetness.
His gaze softened slightly towards Illyrio: "You're sensible.
Speak, what did Illyrio send you to coordinate?
Our Dothraki weddings don't need outsiders telling us what to do."
"I'm not here to tell you what to do, but to help you avoid trouble." Illyrio lowered his voice, pointing to the Khalasar setting up camp in the distance, "As you know, this marriage alliance concerns Khal Drogo and Pentos.
It wouldn't be good if any tribesmen were ignorant of the rules and offended Princess Daenerys, or... if outsiders snuck in to cause trouble and spoil the Khal's mood."
He deliberately mentioned "outsiders causing trouble," testing Kohol's reaction.
Kohol indeed frowned: "You mean, someone will come to ruin the wedding?"
The Dothraki value honor above all else, and a ruined wedding would be a great humiliation for Drogo.
"I'm just worried." Illyrio didn't commit to anything, "After all, the Targaryen still have enemies, and they don't want the Khal to ally with us.
How about this, you send a few Blood Riders with me to check the outer tents and see if there are any unfamiliar faces?
If there really is trouble, we can deal with it in advance and not let them disturb the wedding."
Kohol thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement: "Alright, I'll send five Blood Riders with you.
If there really are outsiders, just chop off their heads and offer them as a wedding gift to Khal Drogo."
Illyrio followed Kohol into the Khalasar, where the camp had largely taken shape — hundreds of black tents arranged in a circle, with the largest tent in the center, sewn from white animal hides and embroidered with Drogo's tribal emblem (a roaring warhorse).
That was Drogo's main tent.
Noises came from the outer tents, where Dothraki tribesmen were roasting meat around bonfires, and the aroma of fermented mare's milk mixed with the smell of roasting fat permeated the air.
"These are the tents of ordinary tribesmen; outsiders are most likely to hide here." Kohol pointed to a cluster of tents on the left, "You check over there, my men will check the right.
If you find anything suspicious, blow the horn to notify me."
Illyrio nodded and quickly walked towards the tents on the left.
As he walked, he pretended to admire the tribesmen's weapons (arakhs and bows hanging outside the tents), but in reality, he carefully observed the people inside — most were dark-skinned Dothraki with long braids; occasionally, a few slaves worked outside the tents, all appearing normal.
Until he reached the last tent, he heard low voices inside, not Dothraki, but the Common Tongue with a Lannister territory accent.
Illyrio held his breath and quietly lifted a corner of the tent — inside were three men, one of whom was the person in the grey cloak, the other two were masked, holding polished daggers with lion crests carved into their hilts!
"...When the wedding reaches the gift-giving part, everyone's attention will be on Drogo and that woman.
We'll rush out from behind the tent, kill that woman first, then Viserys, and then blame it on troublesome tribesmen." The man in the grey cloak whispered.
Illyrio's heart tightened.
Just as he was about to blow the horn, the tent flap suddenly opened, and a masked man rushed out with a dagger: "Who's out there?"
Illyrio turned and ran, blowing the horn (the bronze horn Kohol had given him, hanging at his waist) as he ran.
The horn's sharp, piercing sound instantly silenced the camp, and Kohol's voice came from a distance: "Enemies! Blood Riders, assemble!"
The man in the grey cloak and the other two masked men chased after him, their daggers glinting coldly in the sunlight.
Illyrio deliberately ran towards the central tent — it was closer to Kohol, and would soon be the wedding site, where there would be the most Dothraki, so the assassins wouldn't dare cause trouble in the crowd.
"Catch him! Don't let him escape!" The man in the grey cloak roared, quickening his pace.
Just then, five Blood Riders galloped over, their arakhs striking at the assassins.
One masked man was too slow to dodge and was cut in the shoulder by an arakh, falling to the ground with a scream.
Another masked man tried to flank them for a sneak attack but was kicked down by Kohol, who leaped from his horse, and an arakh was placed at his throat.
Seeing the situation turn dire, the man in the grey cloak turned and ran out of the camp.
How could Illyrio let him escape — this man knew the entire Lannister plan; he had to be caught!
He picked up a spear from the ground and threw it with force at the grey-cloaked man's back.
The spear grazed the grey-cloaked man's arm and stuck into the ground, forcing him to stop.
"Catch him!" Kohol shouted, galloping after him.
The man in the grey cloak drew the dagger from his waist, intending to resist, but was knocked down by Kohol's horse.
The Blood Riders immediately moved in and bound him with ropes.
"Speak! Who sent you?" Kohol stepped on the grey-cloaked man's chest, his arakh pressed against his throat.
The grey-cloaked man's face was pale, but he gritted his teeth and said nothing.
Illyrio squatted down and pulled off his cloak, revealing a familiar face — it was the Servant in black robes from the estate!
"So it was you." Illyrio sneered, "Did you think you could infiltrate the estate and gather information?
How much did the Lannister offer you to dare cause trouble at Khal Drogo's wedding?"
The Servant in black robes trembled, clearly not expecting to be recognized.
He opened his mouth, about to speak, when suddenly a sound of hoofbeats came from a distance — Daenerys, Viserys, and Illyrio's party had arrived.
"Tie him up first and take him to Drogo's main tent; we'll interrogate him after the wedding." Illyrio said to Kohol, "Don't let him disrupt the wedding."
Kohol nodded, had the Blood Riders drag the servant away, then clapped Illyrio on the shoulder: "You did well, Targaryen boy, braver than I thought."
This was the first time he had used "well" to describe Illyrio, evidently having acknowledged him.
Illyrio breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead — luckily, they had discovered the assassins in advance, otherwise Daenerys would have been in danger.
He turned and walked towards the party, seeing Daenerys from afar, riding a white steed, draped in a dragon-patterned shawl, particularly striking in the sunlight.
Seeing Illyrio, she immediately rode over: "What was that horn sound just now?
What happened?"
"Nothing, just caught a few outsiders who wanted to cause trouble." Illyrio didn't want her to worry, so he said with a smile, "Lord Kohol has already handled it; the wedding can proceed as normal.
Don't be nervous, just do as I taught you."
Daenerys nodded, the tension in her eyes lessening, replaced by a hint of reassurance.
Viserys and Illyrio also walked over.
Viserys frowned and asked: "What outsiders?
Who dares to cause trouble at Drogo's wedding?
Are they Lannister people?"
Illyrio's heart skipped a beat — Viserys actually thought of the Lannister?
Just as he was about to answer, Illyrio quickly interrupted: "Now is not the time for this.
Khal Drogo is waiting for us in the main tent; the wedding is about to begin."
Everyone followed Illyrio towards the central main tent.
Drogo was already standing in front of the tent, wearing black leather battle armor, a huge bronze arakh at his waist, his long golden hair tied back with a leather cord, his eyes sharp as an eagle.
Seeing Daenerys, his gaze softened slightly, and he extended his hand, saying in broken Common Tongue: "My wife, come."
Daenerys took a deep breath, walked to Drogo's side, and gently took his hand.
Illyrio stood behind the crowd, watching this scene, silently praying — hoping the wedding would proceed smoothly without any further accidents.
The wedding ceremony was simpler than Illyrio had imagined, yet more solemn.
Drogo's tribesmen stood in a circle around the bonfire, and Kohol, as the chief Blood Rider, raised a skin of fermented mare's milk and shouted loudly: "Khal Drogo, what gift does your wife bring?"
Daenerys took off the dragon-patterned shawl from her shoulder and handed it to Drogo: "This is the Targaryen dragon-patterned shawl, symbolizing our family.
I give it to you, hoping we can be strong forever, like dragons."
Drogo took the shawl and draped it over his shoulders, the dragon pattern facing the bonfire, the silver threads shimmering in the firelight.
The tribesmen let out cheers — though they didn't understand the Targaryen dragons, they could feel the preciousness of the shawl, and even more, Daenerys's sincerity.
"My wife, I also have a gift for you." Drogo turned and took a small horse from a slave's hand.
The horse was pure white, without a single stray hair.
"This is the finest horse of the Dothraki; only the Khal's wife can ride it.
Its name is 'Silver Wind'; from now on, it is yours."
Daenerys delightedly stroked the horse's mane and whispered: "Thank you, Drogo."
Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out in the crowd; a tribesman, raising an arakh, rushed towards Drogo, shouting: "Drogo! You shouldn't marry an outsider!
The Dothraki don't need Targaryen waste!"
Illyrio's heart tightened — was it an accomplice of the masked man Kohol had caught earlier?
Just as he was about to rush forward, Drogo had already drawn his arakh, a cold gleam flashed, and the tribesman's head fell to the ground, blood splattering everywhere.
Drogo raised the head and shouted loudly: "Whoever dares to question my wife again, this is their fate!"
The tribesmen all knelt, shouting "Khal Drogo!" and "Targaryen Khaleesi!" their voices deafening.
Daenerys stood beside Drogo, her face somewhat pale, but a hint of determination had entered her eyes — she was no longer the timid princess, but the Dothraki Khaleesi.
Illyrio stood behind the crowd, watching Daenerys and Drogo stand side by side by the bonfire, a sense of relief in his heart.
Although there was a small interlude at the wedding, it was ultimately completed smoothly, and Drogo proved his acceptance of Daenerys through his actions, which was more important than anything.
The aftermath of the wedding was a celebration, with tribesmen drinking, dancing, and roasting meat around bonfires.
Drogo was surrounded by his Blood Riders, discussing plans to go south.
Illyrio walked to Daenerys's side and whispered: "Congratulations, Khaleesi."
Daenerys smiled, her eyes filled with gratitude: "Thank you, Illyrio.
Without you, today's wedding wouldn't have gone so smoothly." She paused, then added, "Drogo just told me that after the celebration, we will return to the Dothraki Sea for half a month, and then lead the cavalry south to help us reclaim the iron throne."
Illyrio's heart rejoiced — the goal was finally a step closer!
But he did not relax his vigilance; the captured Servant in black robes had not yet been interrogated, and the Lannister surely had further plans.
"Khaleesi, we cannot let our guard down.
The captured servant, we must interrogate him as soon as possible to find out the Lannister's other spies, otherwise, we might encounter danger on our way to the Dothraki Sea."
Daenerys nodded: "I know; I will tell Drogo to have Kohol interrogate him as soon as possible."
The bonfire flames gradually rose, illuminating the smiling faces of the tribesmen, and also the figures of Daenerys and Illyrio.
Illyrio knew that the end of the wedding was just the first step in the Targaryen restoration; the upcoming journey to the Dothraki Sea held even more challenges.
But he was no longer afraid — with Daenerys's trust, Drogo's support, and his own wisdom, he would surely help the Targaryen reclaim everything that belonged to them.
As night deepened, the celebration gradually subsided.
Drogo's Blood Riders brought the Servant in black robes to the main tent, and Illyrio and Daenerys followed them in.
Inside the tent, Drogo sat on a fur-covered throne, his eyes sharply fixed on the servant: "Speak, who sent you?
The Lannister? Or someone else?"
The servant trembled all over and finally couldn't help but speak: "It was... it was Lord Tywin Lannister who sent me.
He said that no Targaryen should leave Pentos alive, and certainly not allow your cavalry to go south.
Besides me, there are three other assassins hidden in Pentos city; they will attack your party on your way to the Dothraki Sea."
Illyrio's heart sank — three more assassins!
It seemed the Lannister's plan was more thorough than he had imagined.
He looked at Drogo: "Khal, we must change our route.
We cannot take the path Tywin expects, or we will walk into an ambush."
Drogo nodded and said to Kohol: "You go adjust the route.
Depart tomorrow morning, take the eastern path, bypassing Pentos city.
Also, send scouts to Pentos to find those three assassins and kill them."
"Yes, Khal!" Kohol bowed and withdrew.
After the servant was dragged away, the tent fell silent.
Drogo looked at Daenerys and said softly: "Don't worry, my Khaleesi, with me here, no one can harm you."
Daenerys held Drogo's hand, her eyes firm: "I believe you, Drogo."
Illyrio stood at the tent entrance, watching this scene, silently calculating — on the way to the Dothraki Sea, they must be extra careful, not giving the Lannister assassins any opportunity