Chapter 106 Illyrio's school exam
Only Illyrio, Ian, and Daeron attended the dinner. The Targaryen siblings were not present, a fact Ian found slightly regrettable.
Still, it was to be expected. This was their first day in the magister's manse; Illyrio would not be so careless as to introduce them to the king immediately.
"Were the girls I sent you to your satisfaction?" Illyrio asked, cracking open a crab leg. "They were all trained in Yunkai. The people there have made an art of love, one that has pleased even kings."
*What man could withstand such a test?* "I came here seeking glory," Ian said, feigning a polite embarrassment. "Such pleasures trouble my conscience."
"Hahaha," Illyrio boomed with laughter. "As long as you enjoyed them. My manse is full of such servants, each skilled in their own particular arts. You are free to avail yourself of their services whenever you wish."
*Damn it all.* If those intricate contortions from this afternoon counted as just one skill, what else were they capable of? It was no wonder Yunkai stood beside Meereen, with its craftsmen and gladiators, and Astapor, with its Unsullied, as one of the three great cities of Slaver's Bay. This one trade was enough.
Ian fought the urge to rub his lower back and forced the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Thank you for your generosity, Magister. But more than that, I wish to know when we might be introduced to His Majesty." Though he knew it was too soon, the request had to be made.
"Before that," Illyrio said, his smile vanishing as he transitioned to business, "I wish to know why you seek out King Viserys."
"Several months ago, Daeron learned from you that the princess was to wed a powerful khal, and that this khal had agreed to help His Majesty Viserys restore his kingdom."
"He came to me at once," Ian continued, "hoping to raise a fortune in the Riverlands, form a small army, and come to Pentos to join His Majesty's cause."
"So, it is loyalty that drives you?" Illyrio asked, his eyes narrowing.
"It is opportunity," Ian corrected, shaking his head. "In all the years they have wandered Essos, we never once sought out the king and princess. We did not dare make a show of our loyalty then."
"You are frank."
"We are here to wager on the future. Surely you know how the Usurper on the Iron Throne treated my family after the war. The Darrys lost most of their lands, their wealth, and their title."
"And my family, the Grafsons, have been squeezed and suppressed by House Arryn," Daeron added quickly. "The crown's taxes on the port of Gulltown have doubled since the Targaryen dynasty fell. We can no longer maintain a navy; it is a struggle to even maintain the City Guard."
"And when our plan was discovered," Ian concluded, looking directly at Illyrio, "the Iron Throne seized what was left of our family's fiefdoms and killed our kin. Only under the Targaryen banner can our houses see the light of day again. Only then can we achieve the highest honor. Everyone knows this. We must see His Majesty."
Illyrio did not reply. Instead, he changed the subject. "How many men do you have left?"
Daeron's expression soured. "My forces were destroyed," he answered awkwardly. "But Ian still has four knights. They took no part in our raids."
Silence fell over the table. Illyrio meticulously finished the food on his plate before suddenly fixing his gaze on Ian.
"I noticed your invitation came from the cheese monger, Taro Byrne. A notorious snob. It was an oversight on my part that you had to seek him out. Allow me to make it up to you. What price did he demand?"
*He knows everything.* The realization struck Ian like a physical blow.
It was obvious. All day, Daeron had been the one to speak with the magister. In theory, Illyrio should have considered Daeron their leader. Yet from the moment dinner began, Illyrio had ignored Daeron, directing every meaningful question to him.
It meant that Illyrio had already deduced who the true leader was. And the only time Ian had acted as leader since arriving in Pentos was during his negotiation with Taro Byrne.
Ian's heart sank as his mind raced. He had to consider his answer carefully. More precisely, he had to figure out what answer Illyrio wanted to hear.
*Taro Byrne must not be betrayed.* The decision was made in an instant.
"There is no need, Magister," Ian said, shaking his head. "It was a fair transaction. We require no compensation."
Daeron shot him a look of astonishment, baffled as to why Ian would squander such an opportunity, but he was wise enough to remain silent.
A slow smile spread across Illyrio's lips.
Ian knew he had made the right wager. A man with a sense of honor, a man who respected a contract, was far more valuable to Illyrio than a duplicitous informant.
The most important player in the plan Illyrio and Varys had concocted—the restoration of Aegon VI—was Lord Jon Connington, the boy's adoptive father. And he was just such a man.
During the Battle of the Bells in the Usurper's War, Jon Connington had trapped Robert Baratheon in the town of Stoney Sept. He could have burned the entire town to the ground, killing Robert and ending the war then and there.
But out of a sense of honor, Connington refused to commit such an indiscriminate slaughter. He chose to hunt Robert from house to house, a decision that delayed the battle just long enough for Eddard Stark's reinforcements to arrive.
In the end, Connington's royalist army was defeated, and the last best chance to save the Targaryen dynasty was lost.
Yet Illyrio and Varys still entrusted him with their greatest secret. That alone proved how much weight the magister placed on a man's honor.
Illyrio's smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Taro Byrne sells slaves behind my back, an activity that has nearly brought me great trouble. And yet, you choose to protect him?"
So, the magister truly did know the truth.
"This…" Ian feigned a look of shock, then lowered his head, committing to the charade. "I gave him my word I would not speak of it. He helped us. I cannot betray him."
"A man of honor. Are you a knight, then?"
"I am," Ian nodded. "Knighted by Ser Arys Hewen, my own half-brother." It was a lie, but one impossible to disprove here.
"And yet," Illyrio said, leaning forward with a soft chuckle, "before you fled to Essos, you plundered your own lands. Tell me, knight, is *that* your honor?"
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