Chapter 117: Strong Belwas
"Four?" Butler Mills asked.
"Governor Godin Howoct of the Braavos party, Governor Cecito Morn, Governor Glerro Tetrus, and Governor Patsy Lotalus of the Volantis party," Ian recited, his memory serving him perfectly.
"Ah, no," Mills corrected with a gentle shake of his head. "Governor Patsy Rotalus does not belong to the Volantis Party. He supports the war against Braavos, certainly, but he does not accept 'funding' from any faction."
"Then why does he support the war?" Ian asked, puzzled. Outside of personal interest, he could think of no other reason.
"Because his honor as a soldier—and the honor of the Rotalus family as veteran military nobles of Pentos—does not permit him to be 'cowardly'."
"Military noble?" That was a new term to Ian. "If I remember correctly, the treaty between Pentos and Braavos forbids Pentos from maintaining any armed forces beyond the City Guard. How can there be a so-called 'military aristocracy'?"
"The Lotalus family has a history of seven hundred years. Of course," Mills added, "that may be nothing to you from Westeros."
*He isn't wrong,* Ian thought with a flicker of internal complaint. *The Freys are called upstarts for having a history of only eight hundred years, and my own House Darry has stood for six thousand.*
"But here in Pentos, they are the oldest of families," the butler continued. "In the past few centuries, nearly a third of Pentos's military commanders have come from the Rotalus line. And the current commander-in-chief of the Pentos City Guard is none other than Governor Patsy Rotalus himself."
"You let one of the governors control the entire defense of Pentos?" Ian was a little surprised. "Can the others rest easy with that?"
"The Rotalus family respects tradition and has always been the staunchest defender of the parliamentary system. The old governor himself is a fair, strict, and respected elder. Everyone is at ease with him commanding the City Guard," Mills said, adding with emphasis, "including His Excellency, Magister Illyrio."
"How many men are in the Pentos City Guard?" Ian asked after a moment of thought.
"Theoretically, six thousand."
"Theoretically?"
"Because Pentos is only permitted to maintain the City Guard, *all* of our armed forces are included under that name."
Ian said nothing, his expression telling.
"This is not an attempt to exploit a loophole, of course," Mills explained, reading Ian's look. "You must understand, Pentos is a city with a population exceeding five hundred thousand, with another three and a half to five million people living in the surrounding territories. A city guard of six thousand is not excessive for such a populace, and the Braavosi have no objection to it."
"That seems reasonable," Ian nodded. "Then why do you call the number theoretical?"
"Because in the long years of peace that followed the treaty, the Governor's Council found that maintaining such a large standing force was unnecessary. Over the following decades, the number of the City Guard was gradually reduced to two thousand.
"These two thousand men are divided into four standard companies. The first, consisting of eight hundred men, is commanded personally by Governor Patsy Rotalus. The other three banners belong to the Braavos Party, the Volantis Party, and our own faction."
*No wonder the histories mentioned that the governors doubled the size of the City Guard just before Khal Drogo's arrival, and the Braavosi didn't object,* Ian thought. *Pentos's actual strength was far below the limits of their treaty.*
"Is that the entirety of Pentos's strength?" Ian asked.
"No," Mills shook his head. "According to the treaty, we still have a great many military service quotas, and it would be a waste not to use them."
"So?"
"The Governor's Council allocated two hundred of the remaining four thousand quotas to each of the seven governors, allowing them to maintain their own private guards within the city. All the remaining quotas were sold."
"You know that the nobles of Pentos own vast tracts of land outside the city. Those lands require protection to maintain order. However, in the eyes of the Braavosi, the private armies of the nobles are still considered part of the armed forces of Pentos. Therefore, all their private soldiers must occupy a quota from the 'City Guard'."
*Ever the free trade city,* Ian mused. *They'll trade anything.*
"So, how many of those quotas did the three governors buy?" Ian asked immediately, referring to the core figures of the Braavosi and Volantene factions.
"More than half."
*Damn.*
"But you need not worry. None of their troops are stationed in Pentos. Except for Governor Cecito Morn, the other two have fewer than a hundred personal guards within the city."
"To me, there is little difference between a hundred men and a thousand. They can't attack me openly, in any case," Ian shrugged. "What I need to be wary of are sneak attacks."
"As long as I am here, no one can sneak up on you," a deep voice boomed suddenly.
Ian turned toward the sound and saw that its source was a massive, tan-skinned eunuch who must have entered the room a moment before.
The man was a wall of muscle, with arms as thick as tree trunks. His upper body was bare, revealing a tapestry of old scars across his chest and stomach. A wickedly long arakh hung at his waist.
"This is Belwas," Butler Mills introduced him smoothly. "The mercenary sent to you by His Excellency, Illyrio."
*Mercenary?* Ian had to suppress a laugh. *Well, Magister Illyrio has indeed never been involved in the slave trade, has he?*
He recognized him instantly. Strong Belwas. An elite pit fighter from the fighting pits of Meereen, bought by Illyrio after he was taken to Pentos. In the original history, he and Barristan Selmy were sent by the Magister to find Daenerys in Qarth.
This was the man who had toyed with and brutally killed the champion of Meereen before the city gates—a feat the histories later grafted onto another man. After Daenerys took the city, Belwas became a member of her Queensguard. His strength was legendary.
"I never lose a fight, Andal," Belwas grunted, noticing Ian's appraisal. "Every time I kill a man, I let him cut me once." He puffed out his scarred belly. "And I am still alive."
He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "As long as I am here, no one can hurt you."
"I believe you, friend," Ian nodded politely. "I feel much safer with you here."
A broad smile split Strong Belwas's face.
"Very good. Then this is the other," Mills said, gesturing to a small boy standing next to Belwas, barely reaching the big man's armpit. "His name is Hazru. He can help you find out many things."
Ian nodded again. This, he knew, must be one of Illyrio's chief mice. Just like Varys's little birds, the Magister's network was made up mostly of these wandering orphans.
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