Nearly two centuries earlier, the Braavosi had renamed the coast of Andalos the Braavosi Coast, a declaration of their power and sovereignty.
Yet despite the passing centuries, no famous settlement had ever risen along that long stretch of shoreline.
Today, however, it seemed as though a vast black seawall had appeared out of nowhere.
Hundreds of thousands of soldiers had gathered there.
Inside the sprawling encampment, Freygo and Robert toured the latest weapons developed specifically to defeat Viserys.
A large procession followed behind them.
Robert understood no Valyrian, so he required a constant stream of interpreters.
"This is our shield wagon," Freygo explained, gesturing toward a peculiar-looking battlefield vehicle.
"It is designed specifically to counter Targaryen longbowmen."
To Robert, it looked as though someone had simply attached an enormous wooden wall to the front of an ordinary wagon.
It certainly didn't appear very mobile.
But after witnessing the effectiveness of Viserys's longbowmen, Robert merely nodded in approval.
"Excellent."
"We've built one thousand of them. The shields are made from the decks of retired warships."
Freygo led them farther into the camp.
"And this..."
"...is our dragon-hunting ballista."
The enormous siege weapon was nearly the size of a double bed.
Three bow arms had been layered together to increase both range and power.
"With these, neither Targaryen dragons nor heavily armored infantry will be able to stand against us."
He pointed toward a target nearly two hundred yards away.
A Braavosi crew stepped forward.
Working together, they lifted a massive bolt nearly the size of a spear and locked it into place.
Drawing the weapon proved far more difficult.
A broad-shouldered soldier gritted his teeth as he strained against the windlass beside the ballista.
His face flushed crimson with the effort.
Only as the windlass slowly turned did the bowstring inch backward.
Finally—
Click.
The mechanism locked into firing position.
The entire process had taken nearly three minutes. The lords from Westeros watched with eager anticipation.
They could scarcely imagine the destructive power such a weapon might unleash.
"Your Grace."
Freygo gestured toward the firing lever.
"Would you care to fire it yourself?"
The Sea Lord's courtesy toward Robert had less to do with respect than necessity.
Joffrey remained unconscious.
Although his life was no longer in immediate danger, even Braavos's greatest Moon Singers could not predict when he might awaken.
After speaking with Jult, Freygo had reluctantly accepted the absurd truth.
For the moment, however, he intended to keep Robert calm. Nearly a quarter of Robert's army came from the Westerlands.
If this situation were mishandled...
The consequences could be catastrophic.
Who could have imagined that House Baratheon concealed such a dangerous secret?
Considering the appearances of Robert's other two children, Freygo found himself looking at the king rather strangely.
And when his eyes drifted toward Eddard's son, Robb...
The very same thought crossed his mind.
Robert, completely unaware of those concerns, stepped forward and pulled the firing lever.
Boom!
The massive ballista shuddered violently.
The crack echoed like thunder.
The spear-sized bolt screamed through the air like a streak of black lightning.
When it struck the distant wooden target... The entire structure exploded into splinters.
"By the Seven!"
Robert laughed heartily.
"Magnificent!"
"Braavos truly knows how to build weapons!"
He looked at the gigantic siege engine with unconcealed satisfaction.
"If Viserys dares bring his dragons onto the battlefield... We'll shoot them right out of the sky."
After inspecting Braavos's new inventions, everyone's confidence grew considerably.
Perhaps because he felt embarrassed that his son had been sent abroad to marry, Robert never once asked about Joffrey.
And since Robert remained silent...
Freygo happily kept silent as well.
Only Jaime stood nearby, growing more anxious by the moment.
To raise morale, Freygo had even summoned Braavos's most celebrated courtesans to accompany the army.
That evening, he prepared a banquet unlike any Robert had ever attended.
"Your Grace!"
"Look out!"
Just as everyone prepared to enter the feast, Jaime looked upward.
A dragon circled high above.
At first, he mistook it for an eagle.
Then he looked again.
It was much larger.
A century earlier, dragons had been a familiar sight in Westeros. But since their return...
None of them had seen one with their own eyes.
Robert stared fixedly at the creature overhead.
One hand rested instinctively upon the hilt of his sword.
Beside him, Jaime, Tywin, Eddard, Brynden, and the other commanders watched in silence.
They knew perfectly well how dangerous dragons were.
Even so...
None of them could resist staring.
Soon the surrounding guards and soldiers erupted into confusion.
"Hold your ground!"
"Crossbowmen!"
"Shoot that dragon down!"
Quairo was the first to restore order.
He had once accompanied Tormo and seen a dragon before. He knew these creatures were not particularly large.
In fact... Had they been unable to fly, he believed he might even have slain one himself.
Freygo raised his voice.
"Whoever brings down that dragon...
Will receive one hundred thousand gold dragons!
And five hundred acres of land!"
Immediately, crews rushed to operate more than a dozen dragon-hunting ballistas.
Some soldiers were so excited their hands trembled.
The enormous mobilization of Westeros and Braavos could never have remained secret.
Nor had anyone bothered trying.
Viserys controlled Balerion from afar.
He had come merely to scout the enemy.
At the same time, he wanted everyone to see the dragon's true size with their own eyes.
The smaller they believed the dragons to be... The more complacent they would become.
That complacency would make his future decapitation strikes far easier.
Even from the sky, however...
The sheer scale of the coalition army was astonishing.
More than two hundred thousand soldiers covered the earth like an immense black stain.
About ten minutes later, the dozen ballistas had all been loaded.
They waited only for Freygo's command.
"Fire!"
"Fire!"
"Fire!"
Thunderous cracks erupted one after another.
The shockwaves from the enormous weapons could be felt by everyone nearby.
The crews stared upward, tracking the bolts they had launched.
Each imagined the same glorious sight.
The dragon screaming.
Its body plummeting from the sky.
But the ballistas had their limits. As the bolts climbed higher, gravity slowed them more and more.
And with only a dozen shots...
Their accuracy was nowhere near sufficient.
The odds of striking a dragon in open flight were scarcely better than being struck by lightning.
For a brief moment, Viserys considered copying the dragon from a certain story by catching one of the bolts beneath his foreleg just to mock them.
After a second thought...
He decided against it.
Instead, Balerion soared directly over Robert's head.
The dragon relieved himself, dropping a steaming pile of dragon dung onto the king below.
Then he wheeled away into the sky.
The armies of Westeros had already landed.
Within a month at most...
The war would begin.
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