Chapter 341

Two Ironborn had left, but the Red Priest Marqilo, another recent addition, remained. He took the seat left vacant by Daario Naharis's absence, joining Queen's Hand Petyr Baelish, Grey Worm, commander of the Unsullied, Missandei, Daenerys's cherished scribe, and Daenerys herself, forming a council reminiscent of a royal small council.

"The Ironborn coming to you is obviously not out of pure motives," Petyr said, shrugging. "But at the end of the day, anyone who takes action seeks something—whether it's material gain or inner satisfaction. 'Pure motives' is a nonsensical concept. There's no need for excessive blame or hostility toward them. Experienced sailors and ocean-worthy ships are resources we desperately need right now.

"As for this Euron, I don’t know him personally, nor do I know much about him. His claim that his actions against Stannis and young Aegon are clearing a path for you is obvious nonsense. But at least he wasn’t lying about 'taking action.' With the harbor blockaded, our intelligence on Westeros is limited. However, after sorting through the available information, I've identified parts that seem reliable."

"Go on," Daenerys nodded.

"This so-called Aegon Targaryen claiming to be your nephew is suffering defeat after defeat at the hands of Stannis Baratheon. The lands he initially captured in the Stormlands have mostly been reclaimed, leaving him with only Storm’s End and a few islands. Of his key allies, the Reach is losing ambition after repeated losses, and were it not for Stannis's refusal to negotiate, they might have already sued for peace. As for Dorne, they haven’t launched a major campaign for some unknown reason. Conveniently, we now understand House Martell’s intentions: Prince Doran secretly sent Quentyn Martell to propose a marriage alliance with you. They have no interest in backing an upstart like Aegon but hope for Quentyn’s offspring to sit on the Iron Throne.

"On the other hand, the Baratheon usurpers are not as secure as they appear. After the Starks returned to the North to defend their lands against the Ironborn invasion, Stannis, though still holding the upper hand against Aegon’s Golden Company with forces from the Stormlands, Crownlands, Riverlands, and Vale, does not have overwhelming superiority. Armies pledged to the king have limits on how long they are required to serve, and the duration of this war has far exceeded those limits. As winter sets in, House Baratheon will face food shortages and financial strain. Adding to this chaos, the Ironborn's constant interference ensures neither side can claim decisive victory. Eventually, the two kings must cease fighting—not by choice, but by necessity. And that," Petyr concluded with clarity, "is not good news for you."

"Why not?" Missandei asked curiously. "If I’m not mistaken, Westeros can only have one king. Different claimants cannot coexist peacefully. A truce is just a truce; it can never lead to coexistence. When the Queen invades Westeros, even if Aegon doesn’t surrender, at least he wouldn’t oppose us before defeating Stannis, would he?"

Petyr had initially been skeptical of this young girl, who was even younger than Daenerys, being part of such important discussions. But over time, her maturity and wisdom far beyond her years won his respect, and he now treated her as an equal.

"True, Stannis and Aegon will never coexist peacefully, but this still places Her Majesty at a disadvantage," Petyr explained, spreading his hands. "Regardless of whether Aegon is legitimate, he at least shares the Targaryen name with the Queen. Stannis, as the usurper’s brother and heir, is our irreconcilable enemy. He currently controls most of Westeros, and if a winter truce happens, who do you think will recover faster—Stannis’s well-rooted forces or the rootless Golden Company?"

Daenerys understood Petyr's point. "This is the usurper’s most vulnerable moment. I should seize the opportunity."

"Exactly."

Through meticulous analysis of various sources, Petyr was almost certain that this so-called Aegon was backed by Varys. Despite the eunuch's claims of loyalty and concern for the people, all his schemes ultimately aimed to place this mysterious boy on the throne. Yet, to Petyr's amusement, it was clear that the sudden upheaval in Westeros had disrupted Varys’s carefully laid plans. The early unveiling of the "trueborn dragon" and the Golden Company meant they now had to confront an entrenched rival, Stannis Baratheon, head-on.

From a personal standpoint, Petyr wanted to remain in Slaver’s Bay and enjoy the spectacle of Varys's plans unraveling. But as Hand of the Queen, he had to prioritize Daenerys’s—and by extension, his own—interests. Watching Stannis destroy Aegon would only leave a united Westeros as the Queen’s opposition when she finally crossed the Narrow Sea, a foe even Aegon the Conqueror had not faced.

Reluctantly, Petyr presented his logical conclusion: this was the ideal moment to invade Westeros. If Stannis defeated Aegon and subdued the Ironborn, it would be too late.

Daenerys thought deeply but eventually shook her head. "Let him regain strength. I have three dragons."

Petyr was dumbfounded, barely suppressing a laugh. "My Queen, that’s a conclusion factoring in the dragons? If I may, do you play cyvasse?"

"Do you ask people if they know one plus one equals two?" Daenerys quipped, shooting him an amused look. "I know the basics, though I’m not particularly skilled."

"What piece can kill a dragon?"

"A trebuchet."

"Exactly," Petyr spread his hands. "Even centuries ago, they knew dragons weren’t invincible. I have no doubt your mastery of dragonriding will devastate your enemies at first, but by your third or fourth battle, your foes will start countering the dragons—or worse, you. By the fifth or sixth engagement, they’ll have developed reliable methods to kill dragons."

"I still have the Unsullied and the Free Folk militias."

Petyr frowned and turned to Grey Worm. "Commander, report on the state of the Unsullied and the Free Folk."

"In the recent defense of Meereen, we lost 724 Unsullied and over 900 were injured. Additionally, the Pale Mare plague brought by the Yunkish forces spread into the city. Despite our efforts to quarantine, hundreds have fallen ill, and dozens have died. As for the Free Folk militias, due to fears of contagion and food shortages, training has been limited to small-scale drills. So far, we’ve only managed basic formation and signal practice, and weapon shortages persist."

"You see, Your Majesty," Petyr pressed, "you now have only 6,000 Unsullied and an incomplete militia of fewer than 20,000. If your enemies prepare countermeasures for your dragons, you won’t even take King’s Landing, let alone conquer the Seven Kingdoms. The best course of action is to strike now, while Stannis and Aegon are still locked in battle and unaware of the dragons. Create an advantage before they can respond, and rally as many supporters as possible."

"Your Grace," the red priest Marqilo, silent until now, suddenly spoke. "The Lord of Light warns in the flames: an ancient and unspeakable power in the far North has finished gathering its strength and prepares to unleash the final battle. If you delay here to practice governance or liberate all of Essos, by the time you cross the Narrow Sea, Westeros will be a scorched, lifeless wasteland, no different from Valyria—a land without purpose or value to reclaim."

Daenerys studied Marqilo, her smile cryptic. "And did the Lord of Light tell you what stories unfolded during my travels in the East?"

The red priest smiled enigmatically, the whites of his eyes shrinking as shadows deepened across his face.