Chapter 148: Do you want a wife or not?
"Daeron Grafson went to the Blade Arena again," Ander Poole reported to his ally. "He brought Jorah Mormont with him this time. It seems he fully intends to use the upcoming competition to solve his problems for him."
"Jorah is a bit of a wild card," Belz said, shaking his head. "His most glorious achievements came from seizing a crucial opening on two separate occasions—once when he killed one of Drogo's bloodriders, and again when he felled the last enemy in the great arena of Meereen."
He paused, then amended his thought. "But," he conceded, "if he truly possesses the strength he had in the stories, then even if he relied on finding an advantage, he will be trouble enough. That tournament was the first athletic conference Daenerys held after banning gladiatorial sports for so long. All the most powerful gladiators in Meereen at the time were sent to compete. Jorah's championship that day was far more valuable than any your teammates have won this time."
"Perhaps we should arrange for the 'Elephant Hunter' to deal with him?" Ander Poole suggested after a moment. "That Iban is a man of freakish strength. Shields, armor—they're as brittle as paper before him."
"And what if Jorah fights early in the tournament? The Elephant Hunter is our ace. If we reveal him so soon, what's to stop Daeron from pitting that water dancer master against him in the next round? Besides, as I said, it's still unknown just how capable Jorah Mormont really is. It would be a waste to use the Elephant Hunter on him."
"Damn it all," Ander cursed. "I never expected that fellow Daeron to get involved. He gave Hazan two more good men out of nowhere. Without them, the rebellion of those two water dancers alone would have guaranteed our victory."
"Our victory is still guaranteed," Belz said, his tone noncommittal. "Don't forget the swordsman we recruited yesterday. His blade work is a thing of beauty, and his skill with a dagger… he switches between the two weapons seamlessly. Demon's Claw thought he had the fight won, but the mercenary suddenly thrust a dagger through the gap in his visor. I didn't even see how he completed the motion."
"Speaking of which," Belz asked abruptly, "how confident are you against that mercenary?"
"If I fought him for the first time? Less than fifty percent," Ander admitted. "He's too insidious, too slippery, and he has vast experience fighting knights in full plate. But now that I've seen him fight, I'd say my chances are eighty percent. Don't forget, my strength has exceeded fifty and my agility is almost at forty. And that's on top of the strength I had in my previous life."
"Of course I know your strength," Belz said. "I wouldn't have given you all the reward points I've received if I didn't. I trust you won't disappoint me."
"Don't worry, brother," Ander Poole said with a nod. "We will win. By the way, how is the investigation into Gini Taimei's case?"
"No clues, aside from the time he appeared in the Red Temple. To be honest, I have my doubts about the whole thing."
***
In the courtyard, a bonfire crackled, sending sparks dancing into the night air with the rising heat.
The Blade Arena was brightly lit, and four eunuchs stood waiting in the yard. As soon as they saw Ian and the others arrive, one of them stepped forward to greet them, leading them toward a staircase that descended underground.
The arena hall was far busier at night than it had been during the day; the several small stands were already filled with spectators. The eunuch led Ian and his companions to the main stand, just as he had before.
Keith, having received his position through the recommendation of Ian and Master Yada, had no need to fight. He took up a post directly below the main stand.
Jorah Mormont, however, was another matter. Ian himself was unsure of the knight's true strength, so he needed to participate in the assessment competition. Under the eunuch's direction, Jorah left the main stand and headed toward the preparation area to ready himself for battle.
Only three people occupied the main stand: Prince Hazan, his fiancée Delif Hauket, and the red-robed woman Ian had seen at the banquet.
*What the hell?*
It wasn't the red-robed woman's presence that surprised Ian; he already knew she and Delif were close.
What shocked him was that she wasn't sitting beside Delif. Instead, she and Delif were seated on either side of Prince Hazan, flanking him like two consorts.
"Ian, you've come," Hazan said, standing to greet him personally. "I have been waiting for you."
As Hazan spoke, the red-robed woman rose gracefully from her seat to the prince's right, giving it up and moving to an adjacent chair. At Hazan's gesture, Ian sat down where she had just been.
"Allow me to introduce you, though you have met before. This is my sister, Celia."
"Your sister?" Ian's mind struggled to keep up. "I remember she introduced herself as the daughter of the High Priest of the Red Temple." Big Mouse's subsequent investigation had confirmed she wasn't lying.
"That is merely a cover," Hazan explained. "In truth, she is my mother's illegitimate daughter. To protect the reputation of both my parents, she was secretly fostered in the Red Temple since she was a child."
His mother's illegitimate daughter. The daughter of Marianne Frega, the wealthiest keykeeper of the Iron Bank.
"My apologies," Ian said at once, realizing his surprise had been too obvious. "I was merely curious." He offered an apologetic smile to Celia, who was now seated next to him.
"You should apologize, but not for that," Celia said, wrinkling her nose in a playful complaint. "Why haven't you come to the Red Temple to find me?"
Her tone was coquettish. Ian, falling back on old habits, quickly formulated an excuse. "For that, I should indeed apologize. But as you can see, I have been occupied these past two days with your brother's competition. I simply could not make the time. I had planned to visit tomorrow."
Now that the mission parameters had confirmed Celia was not hostile to him, and her true identity was clear, there was no harm in visiting the Red Temple on the mountaintop. Not after he had gained control of Illyrio's Unsullied, at any rate.
At his words, Celia smiled.
As she inclined her head, the red hood slipped back, revealing her face completely.
*Perfect.* So refined that no flaw could be found. That was the only way Ian could describe it.
Celia's beauty was not the kind that struck you like a thunderbolt, as Daenerys's or Delif's did. Instead, with every glance, you seemed to discover something new, to be amazed all over again.
Her amber eyes were especially captivating, threatening to pull you in and leave you intoxicated.
"Well?" Hazan's voice broke Ian out of his reverie.
"Well what?" Ian asked, his response automatic.
"Hahaha," Hazan laughed, seeming pleased with Ian's dazed expression. "My sister here fell in love with you at first sight at Khal Drogo's banquet. She hasn't been able to forget you since. So, Ian, would you object to us becoming closer allies?"
*What the fuck? So my first instinct was right? Is this really happening?*
Was this the reason for Hazan's overwhelming enthusiasm this morning? Was he some kind of doting brother, obsessed with his sister's happiness?
He couldn't possibly believe that.
But if he didn't, how else could he explain Hazan's behavior? A man of Ian's current status was not someone a prince like Hazan should be so eager to befriend, let alone offer his sister to.
It felt as if he wasn't the one scrambling to curry favor with Hazan, but the other way around.
*Do I even deserve this?*
Countless thoughts flashed through Ian's mind. He subconsciously scanned the faces of the others in the stand.
Hazan was watching him, clearly waiting for a response. Delif, too, looked on with keen interest, her playful eyes darting back and forth between him and Celia.
Celia herself was pretending to be the picture of ladylike composure, her gaze lowered. But she kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye, and the tips of her small ears twitched almost imperceptibly.
---
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