Conquest Year 293. Viserys rode his dragon out of Tyrosh and turned toward the Disputed Lands.
In the heart of the Disputed Lands stood the famous Crown Town. Mercenaries who had once made their living here had long since scattered like frightened birds, fleeing to the vassal lands of Myr and Lys.
Black-and-red dragon banners snapped above the walls. Freedmen worked furiously, hauling stones and digging trenches, turning the once-loose gathering place into a proper stronghold. The town took its name from a single ancient tree.
In Conquest Year 258, nine outlaws, exiles, pirates, and sellsword captains—the men later called the Band of Nine—had met beneath an apple tree and sworn to help one another conquer kingdoms. That tree had been called the Crown Tree ever since.
The golden dragon circled once, then dropped from the sky and landed near the old apple tree. Viserys looked at the ancient tree still standing after all these years.
The tree endured. Men did not.
"King Viserys!"
"Liberator!"
"Chainbreaker!"
Hundreds of freedmen shouted his name as he dismounted. They were already reshaping Crown Town into a fortress, hauling rock and digging deep ditches under the black-and-red banners.
"Some escaped slaves have reached our camp, Your Grace," Agos said. "They want us to burn the Disputed Lands clean."
"Take them in," Viserys answered. "But this war won't be fought in a single day."
"A lot of the sellswords who used to work here have already run for the lands of Lys and Myr," Agos added.
When a city fell, its hangers-on became exiles and hedge knights overnight.
"Looks like I've made a few more enemies," Viserys said dryly. "And what about the magisters of Lys and Myr? How are they treating these unhappy sellswords?"
"They're taking them in with open arms."
"Good." Viserys smiled faintly.
Those scattered, bitter men would only weaken Lys and Myr when the next war came. The great sellsword companies were gone. The Golden Company had bent the knee. The Company of the Cat was ashes. The Windblown walked their own path. Even the Stormcrows and the Brave Companions had been wiped out.
Lys and Myr had no choice but to coddle whatever scraps remained.
By holding Bloodstone at sea and Crown Town on land, Viserys had turned Tyrosh into the point of a spear aimed straight at the Three Daughters. Lys and Myr stayed silent about his new fortifications. They were too busy gathering every stray sellsword and hedge knight they could find. Both sides knew the next war was already coming.
To prepare for it, Viserys had ordered new strongholds built and had reinforced Bloodstone and Crown Town near Tyrosh. Even Swan Haven and Gedyne in Andalos had been strengthened into secondary fortresses.
Because so many workers had been sent to fortify Crown Town, a lively little market had sprung up. Merchants sold salt and fried fish, ripe pears, bronze daggers, dried squid, carved agate, and strong spices.
Viserys walked past the stalls. None of them stirred the rings on his fingers. These were small goods for small people. The real wealth he had taken from Tyrosh was still waiting to be sorted.
A merchant who looked Lysene stepped into his path.
"Liberator. Father of Dragons. This is a gift for you."
Viserys smiled at the man. "Open it yourself."
The merchant's smile faltered for half a heartbeat. Then he snarled, "Seven hells!" and hurled the box at Viserys.
Something small and glittering flew out—a green insect carved from emerald and onyx, beautiful and deadly. It had a black face like a tiny human and a curved, venom-dripping tail.
"I'm sorry," the merchant whispered in a low, flat voice.
Viserys drew True Dragon in one smooth motion. The purple blade flashed. The box and the insect both shattered in mid-air.
The merchant's eyes went wide. He had never seen anyone move that fast.
Agos was already there. His fist smashed into the man's face with a wet crunch. Greenish foam bubbled from the assassin's mouth. He was dead before he hit the ground.
"Quiet!" Viserys roared. The market froze.
"Your Grace," Agos said, breathing hard. "An assassin."
He searched the corpse and found only Lysene and Myr coins.
"It doesn't matter," Viserys said, waving a hand. Assassins and poison were part of the game. You learned to live with them or you died.
"He was one of the Regretful," Viserys said. "From Qarth. They always say they're sorry before they kill you."
Agos spat. "Expensive bastards."
"Someone with real power sent him," Viserys agreed.
The Regretful were not as feared as the Faceless Men, but they were old, skilled, and costly. Only kings and great lords hired them.
Viserys didn't know who had paid for this attempt. Lys, Myr, and the remnants of Tyrosh all had reason. So did the warlocks of Qarth. Those cold, vengeful men never forgot a slight.
"Dragonfire," Viserys said quietly.
Sunblaze opened his jaws. Golden-red flames consumed the body in seconds.
Viserys drove True Dragon into the earth and left it standing there. These gutter rats would keep coming until he burned their nests out.
He thought of Melisandre. Even if he didn't need her shadows for himself, she could guard his family. The red woman was useful.
"Restore order," he told Agos. "I'm going to wait for my guest."
"As you command, Your Grace."
Viserys walked away from the market and climbed a low hill just outside Crown Town. Sunblaze coiled beside him like a living fortress of gold and crimson scales.
Viserys sat in a folding chair and looked out over the flat lands of the Disputed Lands. In the distance he could see the outer walls of Lysene and Myrish estates.
He ate a sweet pear and thought.
Assassins would keep coming. That was the price of power. He would have to answer Qarth in time. The distance meant nothing. Debts were always paid.
He sat and waited as the sun sank and the moon rose.
His guest would come soon.