Chapter 15: Patient Viserys

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After Viserys and Illyrio finished their lunch, they encountered Daenerys sitting quietly on a stone bench by the garden on their way back to their rooms.

She seemed to have been waiting for a while, with a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead from the intense midday sun.

Viserys was the first to greet her, waving her over. "Dany, come here. What are you doing here? Are you feeling better?"

Daenerys noticed that her brother was smiling, and he seemed to be in a good mood. "I'm almost better."

She moved closer, glancing at the gardener wearing a copper collar who was trimming plants in the garden.

"This is one of Magister Illyrio's slaves," the maid Annie had told her earlier.

Daenerys cautiously approached and began speaking softly to her brother. "I asked Annie carefully today, the maid. She said she was sent by the master of the courtyard to serve me.

After a pause, she whispered in a very low tone, "Why is he being so kind to us?" her voice so low that it was hard to listen to, "What does he want from us?"

Daenerys had long since learned during their exile that such generous treatment never came without a price.

"Don't speak like that, Dany," Viserys frowned slightly and replied in a similarly low voice. "He is a loyalist. He knows that one day I will reclaim my throne and will not forget friends who helped us in our time of need."

Viserys noticed that Daenerys was still limping slightly, her steps still somewhat labored. This surprised him, as a sprained ankle usually took a week or two to heal.

He couldn't help but wonder if Daenerys had intentionally twisted her ankle because of something he had said that day. But such speculation seemed too far-fetched for a timid little girl. So, Viserys chose to see it as a sign of Daenerys' inherent strength of character.

After all, she was destined to be the Mother of Dragons.

But the Mother of Dragons now was just a girl afraid of saying the wrong thing. Hearing this, she fell silent.

Yesterday's kindness from her brother seemed like a dream. Now, talking about the throne, Daenerys feared stirring up his anger, just like before.

"My dear sister, one day we will reclaim our homeland," Viserys often promised her, sometimes with his hands trembling uncontrollably as he spoke. "Think of the jewels and silks, Dragonstone and King's Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all stolen from us, and we will take them all back." It seemed Viserys lived solely for that day to come.

Words like "king" and "reclaim the throne" were like prayers, and Viserys constantly chanted them. If the throne were a god, Daenerys felt Viserys was far more devout than the red-robed priests who occasionally chanted prayers at night while lighting night fires.

But when Daenerys asked for details or said something that displeased him, her brother would become furious.

"Today is a great day, Dany," but Viserys' good mood still hadn't dissipated. He eagerly tried to share his joy, but never revealed what he had actually done, only reveling in his happiness. "When historians write the chronicles of my reign, they will certainly mention this day."

Viserys' fervor made Daenerys uneasy, and she didn't respond.

Viserys didn't care, taking Daenerys' hand and helping her back to her room, insisting she rest until her sprained ankle fully healed to avoid any lasting issues. He didn't want the future Mother of Dragons to be a limping cripple.

Even though the hallways were empty of the maids diligently cleaning in recent days and the elusive housekeepers, Viserys still insisted on performing. He tried to share his "joyful" mood with Daenerys, starting to tell her the story of Aegon's Conquest for the umpteenth time.

Daenerys lay on the bed, maintaining a listening posture, occasionally responding.

Viserys was in high spirits, stopping only when the sun was setting, finishing the tale at the Point of the Kneeling Man.

He could clearly sense Daenerys' lack of interest, but he kept talking, and he did so with enthusiasm. He felt that if he didn't express his "joy" this way, it wouldn't be convincing enough.

Viserys also understood the principle of not overdoing things, but he was more worried that he had come across as too mature in front of Illyrio today.

Illyrio was a difficult man to deal with, his facial expressions hard to read. He didn't mind lowering himself in verbal exchanges, often maintaining a pleasant demeanor. When he did show emotion, it was hard to tell if it was genuine. His frequent probing forced Viserys to be extremely cautious.

Most of the time, Viserys didn't know if his exaggerated behavior had truly convinced Illyrio. He could only rely on his flamboyant display to cover his true emotions. At least on the surface, he felt that he and Illyrio had managed a back-and-forth.

Judge by words, observe by actions!

The next step was to see what actions Illyrio would take.

During dinner, Viserys' voice became hoarse, so Illyrio only engaged in brief pleasantries before leaving the siblings to their own devices.

Claiming fatigue, Viserys retreated to his room. With nothing else to do, he first fiddled with the dragon bone necklace that had lost its power, then continued his daily quiet exercises.

Before bed, he went to the bathroom to check the small dragon scale on his chest.

He had roughly figured out that the expended magic would replenish in about a day. The scale, made purely of magical elements, could be controlled to appear or disappear at will.

Simply put, the dragon scale was a manifestation of magical energy, and Viserys could hide it within his liver by controlling the flow of magic.

Viserys speculated that if he were to transform into a dragon, the elemental magic forming his dragon body might also gather in the liver, horns, and wings—the primary magical gathering points of a dragon's body. In other words, could he become a small dragon-human hybrid?

Uh...

Viserys imagined what that might look like.

In the end, he still thought that the dragon form was more appropriate. After all, the dragon form has three heads, and he found it hard to imagine himself with dragon wings on his back, three heads, or three different elemental horns on his head, which would be quite a bizarre appearance.

Of course, such worries were still far from him at the moment.

After expending the last bit of his magic with another short burst of dragon flame, Viserys emerged from the bathroom, washed up briefly, and went to bed.

He still needed to repeatedly verify the exact time it took for his magic to recover and experiment with whether exhausting his magic would unconsciously expand his magical capacity.

In the following days, Illyrio indeed did not appear again.

Viserys didn't know if he had really departed for the Seven Kingdoms, but he hoped it was true. 

Traveling from the Eastern continent to Westeros was no easy journey.

Although the Narrow Sea had "narrow" in its name, it was not a small strait but a vast ocean comparable to the Atlantic Ocean on Earth.

Even though Pentos was close to Westeros, crossing the sea with the sailing ships of this world would take at least half a month for a round trip.

Regardless, with Illyrio gone, the pressure on Viserys' mind eased considerably, and his constantly tense nerves relaxed a bit.

He was quite satisfied with the development space he had carved out for himself.

The following days were rather uneventful.

Viserys essentially ate more and exercised more daily—having a healthy and strong body was the foundation of everything.

He took frequent walks, made detailed records, wandered around the courtyard, memorized the details of the environment, the faces of the people appearing in the courtyard, and occasionally inquired about their names, identities, and duties—these might not necessarily come in handy, but when needed, he couldn't afford not to know.

The rest of the time, when he had a moment, he would find Daenerys to build their relationship.

But he wasn't used to this feeling, because in front of Daenerys, he had to maintain a facade. He couldn't tell her the truth, he couldn't be too distant, but he also couldn't be too affectionate. Most of the time, Daenerys remained silent and heavy-hearted. Eventually, he seemed to find a way to get along with her, which was to borrow the storybooks Illyrio had placed in the living room for decoration and tell his sister the strange tales popular in Pentos.

He felt it was somewhat effective. Daenerys, while lying in bed to recuperate, relied on his storytelling to pass the time.

Once she could walk normally, she began to follow him around the courtyard on walks.

But she was too silent.

Viserys was well aware that Daenerys' reluctance to speak was because he, or rather his former self, had always suppressed her.

He had to admit that he wasn't cut out to be a good brother either. When faced with questions he couldn't answer, he wouldn't, like his former self, lose his temper or beat and scold her. However, he would still dodge the questions and change the subject. He never inquired about his sister's heavy heart, and even took pleasure in it—this meant that Daenerys couldn't guess his thoughts and wouldn't interfere with his plans by acting on her own.

As for Viserys telling Daenerys stories, at first, she responded with expectation and enthusiasm. But as time went on, her interest waned, and she began to subtly resist being treated like a child.

Yet, whenever he went to tell her stories, Daenerys still cooperated and responded.

It was clear that compared to the boredom and being treated like a child, she was more afraid of her brother reverting to his old, terrifying ways.

However, the girl was still troubled.

Her brother's change hadn't made her happy for long because she soon realized that compared to yelling and violence, condescension, perfunctory answers, and evasion were equally hurtful cold blades.

Viserys noticed that the girl had a strong reaction to phrases like 'Don't say that,' 'Don't be silly,' and 'We'll talk about this later.' These phrases usually ended the conversation. So he began to use these phrases extensively whenever he wanted to leave her presence.

Viserys worked hard to make his life dull and boring, hoping to lower the guard of those watching him.

Of course, he hadn't forgotten about the other dragonbone artifact that Illyrio had shown him. To be honest, he thought about it all the time, but the courtyard was heavily monitored.

He didn't know where the treasure vault was and wouldn't be foolish enough to ask.

Since he could wait for the right moment to take it by force, he wouldn't consider the extremely risky act of theft.

Viserys wanted to transform into a dragon, but he also knew he couldn't be impatient. Everyone could talk about patience, but how many could truly achieve it in practice?

He had to remain patient.

...

Illyrio's ship spent seven days and nights crossing the Narrow Sea before finally entering Blackwater Bay.

The little birds' method of delivering information was faster than ships, so Illyrio quickly met his contact at the King's Landing port.

He first checked into an inn, resting from the afternoon until nightfall when someone knocked on his door.

Illyrio then left his room.

There was no one outside, but he knew this was the signal.

He made a brief disguise, left the inn, and walked through the streets and alleys, eventually arriving at a seaside dock under the cover of night.

A fishing boat awaited him.

After he boarded, the boat set sail without any lights, navigating the nearby waters of King's Landing.

The boatman was an indistinguishable figure who did not speak a word to Illyrio throughout the journey.

The boat reached a deserted beach where the boatman let Illyrio off before rowing into the sea to fish.

Illyrio was familiar with the area. He walked along the beach to a low, rocky slope, quickly finding a dark entrance among the rocks. He looked around cautiously to ensure no one was watching before entering the cave.

The entrance's location was strategic. Above it was a steep cliff, and further up was a rugged highland. A hundred meters beyond the rugged highland, tall walls and fortifications stood—the Red Keep.

How complicated is the secret passage in King's Landing?

Every time Illyrio came, he couldn't help but marvel at how Varys managed to remember such a complex layout.

Illyrio found a torch in a hidden crevice at the entrance of the cave.

After lighting it, he held it up and started walking inside.

The cave walls at the beginning were naturally formed stone. There were many branching paths, and if one took the wrong route, the cave would become narrow and cramped, difficult for a person to pass through.

Fortunately, Illyrio remembered the way. After walking for a long while, he finally noticed signs of human craftsmanship after a fork in the path. The decaying wooden boards emitted a musty smell but indicated the correct path.

At the end of the path was a huge cavern, with stone walls on all sides. Yet, there was wind here, cold gusts blowing down from above.

Illyrio's torch flickered in the wind.

He found a ladder leading upward on a part of the stone wall and began to climb. The portly governor hadn't done such strenuous exercise in a long time, puffing and panting as he climbed.

Illyrio paused to rest on a stone stairway beside a large, dark well, which was twenty feet wide with an opening that seemed to lead straight to the earth's core. He had climbed up from the bottom.

The flickering light of the torch faintly illuminated the pitch-black walls carved by human craftsmen. Many large stones were embedded in the curved walls as stairs, spiraling upward. Illyrio knew he was now truly in the intricate secret tunnels beneath the Red Keep.

Above Illyrio's head, a torch's light appeared, small as a candle flame, slowly descending toward him.

The torch's owner was a light-footed fellow.

Only the increasing brightness of the torch and the tall shadow cast on the wall indicated his silent approach.

Soon, Illyrio heard the torchbearer's voice echoing by the well: "It seems you have come to appreciate that dealing with the king is quite a burdensome task, old friend."

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