Chapter 152: Final Confirmation
After completing his reconnaissance, Ian returned to the sky above Illyrio's manse.
He had seen the sprawling estate in its entirety countless times while practicing his shape-shifting, but never before had he considered the building in terms of offense and defense.
The manse was well-positioned, located in the southwest of Pentos's XC district, not far from the port. If a crisis were to erupt here, sailors from the ships belonging to Illyrio's trade consortium could arrive within half an hour of being summoned. Illyrio's other two primary residences were in the east and northwest of the district, even closer to the Chamber of Commerce. The three properties formed a strategic triangle; should an enemy enter the district without attacking them first, Illyrio's forces could easily emerge and cut off their retreat.
The estate itself was composed of three sections. A low wall marked the outermost perimeter, but it could be easily breached from any direction. Anyone who did so, however, would immediately face a maze-like garden and, more importantly, the Unsullied barracks in the outer courtyard.
Half of Illyrio's Unsullied had been purchased six years ago, their combat effectiveness now diminished by age. But a new batch had been acquired a year ago, and they were still in their prime. Of the five hundred total, the elite half were garrisoned at this manse. Two-thirds of those—well over a hundred and fifty men—were stationed in the outer courtyard.
Moving inward, there was another wall, slightly higher and thicker than the first, but still only a little over two meters tall. It would not be difficult to overcome. The residences of Illyrio, Viserys, Daenerys, and Ian himself were all located within this inner courtyard.
Ian circled overhead, counting. Eight Unsullied stood guard outside Illyrio's personal dormitory, while a total of twelve watched over the quarters assigned to Viserys and his sister. Illyrio also kept a personal retinue of about ten slave warriors, including champion gladiators like the 'Strong Man' Belvos, who were never far from his side.
Additionally, eight Unsullied guarded the various intersections and gates between the courtyards. Another eight were stationed in the two high towers that provided a complete view of the entire estate. Finally, eight patrol teams of three men each constantly roamed the inner courtyard.
The innermost section of the manse was a small hill, completely enclosed within the estate's grounds. From its peak, one could overlook all of Pentos and the sparkling sea of the bay. There was no wall between the inner courtyard and the hill, only a single path leading up—the very same one Ian had taken to the large terrace to find Jorah.
Halfway up the path, a fork led to a small, steep castle built into the mountainside, a route completely inaccessible to siege equipment. If the manse were ever attacked, Illyrio, Viserys, and the others could be moved there immediately for refuge. The castle held a large store of grain and its own wells, enough to sustain a hundred people until reinforcements arrived.
Whether facing a prolonged siege or a sudden raid, the manse was exceptionally well-prepared. For Hazan, Ian concluded, the best strategy would be to lure Illyrio out of his fortress before striking.
Of course, that would not be easy either.
Putting the matter aside, Ian began his descent, returning to his residence before dropping his shifted form.
He only needed to confirm a few more things, and then the whole picture would be clear.
When Ian emerged from his bedroom, he found a boy of about thirteen and a woman in a red robe waiting for him in the living room.
"I am sorry to disturb you both so late," Ian said, gesturing to the drinks and desserts on the table. "Please, help yourselves. Don't be polite."
"Sir Ian," the boy began, still using the title 'Big Mouse' had used in front of him. "You are a friend of the boss. If you need anything from us, you have only to ask."
"It is an honor to serve you," the red-robed woman echoed.
"Good," Ian said, turning to the boy first. "You are the little mouse who was responsible for investigating the Gini Taime incident?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You did an excellent job," Ian praised him, "but since you did not know my true purpose, your final report may have missed the point. I need to ask you some more questions. I hope you can recall the details carefully."
The boy nodded intently.
"First question: what is the name of the priestess who met with Gini Taime?"
"She was called…" The boy faltered, unable to answer, and glanced at the red-robed woman beside him.
"Her name is Celia," the woman supplied. "She is the daughter of the high priest."
*Just as I thought.* Ian's eyes narrowed.
"Before you," he continued, "someone else went to the Red Temple to inquire about Gini Taime, correct?"
"Yes," the boy answered this time. "But their cover was very tight. We couldn't find out who it was."
"No other clues? For example, where they went after they left?"
"No. It's been too long," the boy said, shaking his head. "If I hadn't been specifically told to follow him then, no one would have paid any mind to such a person."
*A pity.* "Very well. In the short period before Gini Taime appeared at the Red Temple, did anything of note happen there? And," Ian added, "it doesn't have to be something large or bizarre. Anything out of the ordinary will do."
"This…" The boy looked to the red-robed woman again. It was not something he had investigated.
"In those days?" The woman frowned, thinking. "Let me see… Come to think of it, a merchant who was staying in the temple died. Someone came to investigate the matter."
"Who?"
"Men from the City Guard," she recalled. "I believe it was the Third Banner Corps, Governor Tetrus's force."
*Under Poole,* Ian thought silently.
"Alright, last question," Ian said, holding up a single finger. "Tell me everything you can about Celia's schedule three months ago. For the entire month of October."
After sending the little mouse and the red-robed woman away, Ian half-collapsed onto a bench, breathing heavily. A lingering fear still clung to him. He was fortunate to have developed the habit of never letting any detail go unexamined. Otherwise…
It wasn't that disaster would have struck immediately, but the result would have been something utterly, profoundly absurd.
*How could that little black fool come up with such an idiotic plan?*
Temporarily suppressing the litany of curses he had for the man, Ian began to consider his next move. Should he help facilitate Hazan's plan? If it was implemented smoothly, he stood to become one of the biggest beneficiaries. Or should he help Illyrio? That was the safer path, and it would allow him to avoid cooperating with the unpredictable, "non-hostile" variable he knew only as 'Lao Liu'.
His choice would determine the winner of Pentos.
*Is it possible?* The voice surfaced in his thoughts, quiet but clear.
Ian's eyes widened. A plan, audacious and wild, began to surge uncontrollably through his mind until it consumed everything else. He thought he might be going mad.
In *A Song of Ice and Fire*, there were many characters Ian admired. There was Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, a warrior of explosive strength. There was Jaime Lannister, a man scorned by the world, yet in his own way more of a true knight than the sanctimonious hypocrites who judged him. And there was Davos, the Onion Knight, pragmatic and shrewd but a man who never lost his moral compass.
There were too many to count.
But if asked who he admired most, the answer was unquestionable: Petyr Baelish. 'Littlefinger'. A man who had truly started from nothing, climbing to the pinnacle of power step by step, armed with nothing but conspiracy.
Petyr was not a player from another world; he didn't know the future. He had no auxiliary system, no golden fingers, nothing but the mind in his head. And with that alone, he went from being the lord of a few barren rocks on the Fingers to the regent of the Vale. He had even dared to aim for the Iron Throne itself.
*So why can't I be the winner?*
Chaos is a ladder.
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