As it turned out, Varys, the Master of Whisperers, had devised a meticulous switch, replacing the prince with a farmer's son.
A commoner had died, but the prince had survived.
That secret rekindled a raging fire in Connington's withered heart.
He took the alias Griffin, concealed his identity, and poured all the devotion and loyalty of his remaining years into protecting and teaching Young Griff.
He gathered exiled knights and maesters from Westeros and raised him to the standards of a true crown prince.
He endured the hardships of exile and the humiliation of his assumed identity, all to await the moment of restoration.
In his heart, Young Griff was the undisputed heir to the Iron Throne.
But now, he had heard that Prince Viserys had landed in the Seven Kingdoms with the Dothraki.
The banners of House Targaryen flew over the lands of Westeros once more.
He believed this was the best opportunity for House Targaryen to unite and reclaim the Iron Throne.
Yet Illyrio refused to loosen the strings, repeatedly delaying the plans for Young Griff's landing.
This had pushed Connington's patience to its limit.
Jon Connington stopped and stared at Illyrio. "Illyrio, Varys is dead, and Myles Toyne is dead too. We cannot wait any longer! Trystane Rivers has been buzzing like a fly in the ears of our brothers in the Golden Company lately. He accuses you of being fickle and cowardly. Now the entire Golden Company is restless, and rumors are everywhere. If we do not land soon, Illyrio, we will miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Prince Viserys has already lit the fires of war in Westeros. We need your support!"
Illyrio frowned and stroked his mustache. "Griffin, my friend, calm down. Wait a little longer, let us wait and see. I recently contacted the House