Aegon quietly watched him wave his arms and rant, spittle flying, without a flicker of emotion on his face.
Only when Viserys had talked himself hoarse and breathless, staring at him with bloodshot eyes full of eager expectation, did he slowly speak. His voice was quiet, but its unquestionable resolve instantly silenced all of Viserys's clamor:
"You cannot stay in Pentos."
Viserys's fantasies came to an abrupt halt. "Wh... what?"
"Illyrio is dead, but the struggle for power in Pentos will not stop. It will only grow more chaotic. This place is no longer safe."
Aegon's gaze swept over the Pentoshi dignitaries gathered at the edges of the courtyard, watching in terror, before settling back on Viserys's face.
"Go to Lys, my city. It has high walls and a loyal army. It is the safest place for you now."
"There, you can see for yourselves how our family's future should be rebuilt."
"What about you?" Viserys asked urgently, stepping forward as if to seize Aegon's arm, only to stop in fear.
"Aren't you coming with us? Shouldn't you be putting the army in order at once and preparing for the expedition?"
"I am going to Braavos," Aegon said evenly.
"There are some necessary diplomatic matters to attend to. Go to Lys and settle in first. I will follow."
Braavos? Diplomacy? Words such as the Iron Bank and alliances instantly flashed through Viserys's mind.
Thinking he understood, he nodded emphatically, his expression declaring that he knew exactly what Aegon meant.
"Yes! We need money! A great deal of money! And allies! The Sealord of Braavos, the Iron Bank... good! Go negotiate! In the name of the Targaryen king, promise them trading privileges and future tax reductions! You must reach an agreement!"
Aegon no longer looked at him, nor did he respond