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Above the Viserys Hills, the courtyard of White Keep.
Roland Lake stood beside Viserys, reporting on the guests waiting outside the White City.
Viserys looked at the slaughtered bull. The charred, smoking carcass lay on the stone pavement; dragons only liked to eat cooked meat.
Sunfyre tore large chunks of cooked meat while breathing fire. The magic dragon occasionally raised its head, revealing lava-like eyes.
It was growing rapidly, like a hot, bright flame, and becoming fiercer by the day. Just like the prestige of King Viserys, which was constantly rising.
After all, in this era, there was no greater miracle than taming a magic dragon and escaping the Valyrian Ruins.
Even The Red Viper felt dizzy from the hot, sulfurous wind—this was a true beast of death, bringing slaughter.
Fire is humanity's most primal fear, an untouchable beast.
The bravery of mortals and the might of armored knights seemed like a joke before the magic dragon.
"Some members of the Windblown Company have arrived, Your Majesty. Their captain is leading the delegation personally," said Count Roland Lake, whose hair was streaked with silver.
"The Tattered Prince came himself," The Red Viper said. "Could it be that he wants to join our ranks?"
"But I heard mercenaries only love gold and die for gold; they are not philanthropists," Argos said.
"I've dealt with him before. Other bargaining chips might not satisfy him; only Pentos would be acceptable," The Red Viper commented.
The Tattered Prince was originally from Pentos's Forty Noble Families. Men from these forty houses would emerge to serve as Prince, the nominal noble ruler of Pentos.
But according to the tradition of Pentos, when times were bad or wars were lost, the Prince of Pentos would be executed to appease the wrath of the gods.
In 262 AC, the previous Prince had just been beheaded by the Governors, and The Tattered Prince, then twenty-three years old, was elected as the new Prince of Pentos by the Governors of the time.
The Tattered Prince dared not accept the invitation from the Governors and chose to flee far away to the Disputed Lands, never returning to his hometown of Pentos since.
"However, should we cooperate with him? After all, he can be considered a traitor to Pentos," Count Donal reminded him.
"Meeting him shouldn't hurt anything," The Red Viper said dismissively.
It had been twenty or thirty years; the Governors of Pentos long considered this old traitor powerless and viewed him as a joke.
"Since he's here, we might as well meet this old fox," Viserys said. "But he doesn't need to know too much. We'll talk outside the White City."
Two thousand men—neither too many nor too few. Viserys was quite interested in this old Prince.
"Then I will look after the magic dragon," Rhaenys said, holding Daenerys's hand.
Although they could not ride the magic dragon, Sunfyre seemed to sense that they were relatives of the Dragon Rider and was very friendly toward them.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Viserys led the way. The nearly one hundred knights, fierce as dragons and tigers, found their warhorses in the stable.
The knights then hoisted the black banner bearing the red dragon and set off from White Keep, traveling like lightning until they reached the town of Viserysburg.
The gates of Viserysburg opened, followed by the lowering of the drawbridge, and the knights appeared before The Tattered Prince and his entourage.
The Tattered Prince was surprised. He had expected Viserys to put on royal airs, with fanfare and ceremony before escorting him to White Keep.
Unexpectedly, Viserys acted more like a vanguard warrior, personally leading men to meet the members of the Windblown Company.
"Which one is the conqueror of the Narrow Sea, The Builder, the descendant of the ancient True Dragon, His Majesty Viserys?" The Tattered Prince deliberately asked in a soft voice.
In truth, he had already recognized Viserys, as Viserys was simply too dazzling, and the insignia of the ancient Valyrian Dragon King was already universally known.
The Tattered Prince saw a stunningly handsome young man with silver hair and purple eyes.
The young knight was tall and vigorous, like a newly forged, bright sharp sword.
He had neatly trimmed silver-white short hair and pale purple eyes. Within those eyes seemed to reside an aura of omnipotence and courage.
Viserys wore a simple silver silk undershirt and a studded vest over it, suitable for hunting, jousting, and riding dragons, rather than the luxurious attire of an ordinary monarch.
But the Valyrian crown he wore—a valyrian steel circlet inlaid with purple gems—already reminded onlookers of the King's noble status.
(Aegon the Conqueror's valyrian steel circlet crown and blackfyre)
On Viserys's sword belt hung a valyrian steel dagger and "True Dragon," that ancient Valyrian treasure, now shining brightly once more.
The Tattered Prince felt deflated. Had his sixteen-year-old self been this dazzling?
He feared he was only looking for women and fun in Pentos.
"It is I," Viserys replied calmly. "You are the captain of the Windblown Company? The Tattered Prince."
Behind Viserys stood warriors like The Red Viper, Argos, Donal, Hugo, Gaelin, Jarak, and Bloodworm, each one like a Golden Eagle.
These knights came from all directions: Andals, Rhoynar, runaway slaves, and old Royalists from Westeros.
Especially imposing were strong men like Argos and Donal, who were over seven feet tall and looked like guardian deities.
Argos held the black banner with the red dragon, and the magic dragon looked down disdainfully while breathing fire.
Only the quick-witted Krell seemed to be there just to make up the numbers; his foundation was too poor and he needed to slowly build muscle.
The knights, grouped in units of one hundred, displayed an unparalleled, peak aura.
The Tattered Prince's heart skipped a beat. This young King had trained his soldiers to such a degree that it exceeded his expectations.
But dealing with a person like this would make negotiation very difficult.
"As the captain of the Windblown Company, I am honored that my name is known to the Dragon King," The Tattered Prince announced loudly in impeccable High Valyrian, while riding a tall grey warhorse. He was, after all, of noble birth.
Countless strips of cloth trailed from The Tattered Prince's warhorse near its hind legs, all cut from the robes of enemies the Prince had slain; presumably, the Prince's cloak was sewn together in the same manner.
Viserys looked at the Windblown Company's armor. Some men had fine armor, while others wore armor that was completely pieced together.
This was likely typical mercenary gear—helmets, gorgets, gauntlets, and mismatched plate armor, all looking worn.
Wealthy knights from ducal or noble houses would not become mercenaries unless they were miserably exiled.
Therefore, aside from veterans, many newcomers in the mercenary company scrounged together their gear from dilapidated carts.
"May I ask why the Prince has come to the distant Andals?" Viserys asked. The Tattered Prince was likely in his fifties, but he still sat tall and straight in the saddle, capable of projecting his booming voice across every corner of a battlefield.
"I heard that the Andals are about to host a feast of blood and fire, and it must not be missed," The Tattered Prince said elegantly.
The mercenaries behind him were shouting and cheering. Light blue silk pennants fluttered from their lances, and at the highest point flew the banner of the Windblown Company: a blue and white forked standard.
The Tattered Prince brought his core staff: Denzo D'Han, the Battle Poet, a scarred veteran.
Kago, who carried a valyrian steel scimitar, was extremely tall, heavily scarred on his face, and easily provoked.
The ugliest was the Windblown Company's Torturer, "Beauty" Meris.
Meris was nearly six feet tall, with golden hair, a torn nose, and no ears, and scars shaped like the character 'gan' (Dry) were left on both cheeks. She had cold eyes and was entirely encased in armor.
"I'm afraid it won't be a feast, but rather a stench heavy with blood and fire," Viserys said to The Tattered Prince.
"To make a long story short, I believe you need someone to act alongside you," The Tattered Prince said after a moment's thought. "The savages on the Great Grass Sea are formidable opponents."
"I certainly need allies, and those who kneel to me will understand my generosity."
"I don't need money," The Tattered Prince smiled faintly. "If you achieve victory and proceed to march on Westeros, I hope for a small reward."
"What reward?"
"The place where I was born: Pentos."
"That is an exorbitant price. I first need to defeat Drogo, and then defeat The Usurper. Furthermore, the people of Pentos have been very generous to me..." "I understand all that, but I am prepared to wait," The Tattered Prince said.
For Pentos, and for revenge against those Governors.
The Tattered Prince had waited too long, but no one could help him seize that city-state.
And Viserys was considered a source of hope for The Tattered Prince.
"Pentos belongs to the Pentoshi, and also Magister Illyrio. He once gifted me Fossilized Dragon Eggs, and you know those things are priceless..." Viserys looked at The Tattered Prince. Everything was negotiable, but not this easily.
"This is merely a transaction..." The Tattered Prince continued, seemingly unconcerned.
In his heart, he did not trust Viserys's benevolence. With a Prince of blood and fire, a beast in the arena of power, sincerity and falsehood were always mixed together.
"Let's be practical. If you help us, I will naturally give you plenty of gold and silver," Viserys said.
The Tattered Prince shook his head regretfully. "Mercenaries only stay with the victors. Without the condition of Pentos, it will be hard for us to cooperate..."
Viserys also showed a look of regret. These two thousand men were a help, but not enough to justify giving away Pentos.
"Then please forgive our presumption." The Windblown Company knights turned their horses, signaling the failure of the negotiation.
Viserys accepted their decision and also turned his horse around.
"We can ride slowly," Viserys said.
"You mean they might come back?" The Red Viper laughed heartily. "That is highly likely. After all, besides you, no one in the Free Cities has ever given the old beggar a shred of hope..." Viserys rode back, and after a while, the sound of hoofbeats was heard again.
The men of the Windblown Company still couldn't hold back and were starting to catch up to them again.