His laughter echoed through the hall, but no one joined in. The councilors wore grave expressions. Robert laughed for a while, then saw their faces and felt foolish.
Varys waited until the king's laughter died away before continuing. "Perhaps the dragons are merely a tale, Your Grace. But the Unsullied are not. Thirteen thousand of the finest Unsullied in all of Slaver's Bay now answer to him. Renowned sellsword companies active in the Disputed Lands, such as the Second Sons and the Stormcrows, are also under his command. And there is more."
He paused, a hint of cunning seeming to flash in his eyes. "A Dothraki khalasar nearly forty thousand strong was defeated outside Meereen, and tens of thousands of survivors bent the knee to him. None of that can be explained away as 'making up stories.'"
An offended fury appeared on Robert's face, along with a deeply buried fear he refused to acknowledge. "So? What are you trying to say? That silver-haired, purple-eyed pansy thinks he can cross the Narrow Sea and reclaim his 'throne' with a pack of eunuchs, sellswords, and surrendered savages, plus a few fire-breathing lizards he dug up gods know where?"
He slammed his fist onto the table before him with a dull thud. "Let him come. Once he gets here, I'll smash his skull with my warhammer, just as I smashed his fool brother Rhaegar."
"Please calm yourself, Your Grace," Jon Arryn hastily urged. "Varys is not being alarmist. Even if the dragons remain in doubt, it is an undeniable fact that Viserys Targaryen has become a formidable power in Essos. He controls Slaver's Bay and possesses a vast army and incalculable wealth. More importantly, he has raised the banner of the 'Breaker of Chains.' That banner holds tremendous appeal among the common folk