Chapter 153: Late Night Visit
"I wish to see Magister Illyrio," Ian said to the servant as he stepped out of his room. "Please take me to him."
"Yes, my lord." The servant nodded respectfully before turning and walking deeper into the courtyard.
Ian followed him, passing through a pavilion corridor and a small garden before arriving at a tall, white building. Four Unsullied stood guard before its huge, red-painted wooden door.
"Lord Darry, allow me to announce you," the captain of the Unsullied said to Ian in blunt but clear Common Tongue, having learned of Ian's purpose from the servant.
Ian, of course, had no objection and nodded his assent.
The Unsullied turned and disappeared through the door. A minute later, he returned and held it open for Ian. "Please come in, my lord. Magister Illyrio is waiting for you."
Ian nodded and walked into Illyrio's private chambers.
After passing through a corridor brightly lit by candlelight, Ian arrived in the living room just outside Illyrio's dormitory.
Illyrio was seated on a chair in the center of the room. He watched Ian enter, then gestured toward another seat.
"Magister Illyrio." Ian offered a slight salute.
"Lord Darry," Illyrio nodded in return. "What brings you to me so late? Is something the matter?"
"Magister, there is something I have been hesitating over all night," Ian began, his expression carefully crafted to show deep concern. "But in the end, I felt I must report it to you."
"What is it?" Seeing Ian's serious demeanor, Illyrio sat up straighter.
"Prince Hazan seems to want to forge an alliance with you through me," Ian said, his voice laced with trouble. "He proposed that I marry his sister."
"And you agreed?"
"Of course not," Ian said, waving his hand quickly. "I told him I needed to consider it. After all, your true position is not aligned with his. We will eventually break with Hazan and his faction. There is no way I could agree to this marriage." Ian then added with a touch of awkwardness, "However, it is not an easy thing to refuse. I am worried Hazan will see it as a personal humiliation. I thought to come to you, hoping you could offer some advice."
"I have never heard that Hazan had a sister," Illyrio mused, then nodded after a moment of thought. "I think you can agree to his proposal. If your heart is hard enough."
"What?"
"In the short term, at least, this will not be a bad thing. Maintaining that ambiguity is precisely what we need. When the time comes for a true confrontation, you will simply have a falling out with your wife's family. Such things happen in every war in Westeros."
"You are not worried I will be won over by Hazan in the process?" Ian asked, feigning surprise.
"The fact that you came to tell me this news proves your loyalty," Illyrio said, looking directly into Ian's eyes.
"I believe in you, Ian. We are embarking on the greatest undertaking of our time. You will be recorded in the histories as the Hand of the King to Aegon VI Targaryen. I believe that a mere woman cannot sway your will."
"Magister Illyrio," Ian said, his voice filled with manufactured emotion, "I will never betray your trust."
"So," Ian asked immediately, pressing his advantage, "Hazan's sister has invited me to the Red Temple tomorrow. I should go, then?"
"You can make your own judgment on such minor issues. Your purpose, in short, is to make Hazan believe that he is not far from gaining my support. When necessary, I can even cooperate with you in certain actions to sell the deception."
"I understand," Ian nodded. He paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "By the way, there is one more thing I need your help with."
"The princess's wedding to the Khal is soon, is it not? I find myself without a gift of any real worth."
"That is normal," Illyrio nodded, unsurprised. "You are not a man of great wealth at present. Let us do this: I will prepare your gift for you. My servant will present it in your name when you attend."
"Would that not seem insincere?"
"Sincerity?" Illyrio chuckled. "An interesting notion."
"I would rather choose the gift myself," Ian pressed. "If I can leave a deep impression on Khal Drogo, it will only help my dealings with him in the future."
Ian put on a playful smile, speaking as if they were old confidants. "As for the cost of this gift… you would have to sponsor it, of course."
"Hahaha, you boy," Illyrio shrugged, amused. "Very well. What do you wish to give?"
"I have no good ideas yet. I was wondering what you plan to give?"
"Three fossilized dragon eggs," Illyrio said without hesitation. Ian would find out in a few days anyway.
"Dragon eggs?!" Ian asked, his surprise genuine this time. "There are still dragon eggs in the world?"
"Fossilized ones, yes. There are many in the world."
"May I see them?" Ian asked, a sudden interest sparked in his eyes. "I truly wish to know what magic resides in these things that allowed the Targaryens to conquer all of Westeros."
"It was the dragons that conquered Westeros, not the eggs," Illyrio corrected, "and these are just stones. Besides, it is so late…" He seemed troubled, but in the current situation, saying no felt inappropriate.
"Very well," Illyrio chose to agree. "Come with me. I will take you to my treasure room. You may choose one of my collection as your gift to the newlyweds. And while we are there, I will show you the dragon eggs."
With that, Illyrio stood from his chair and walked out of the living room, Ian following closely behind.
Escorted by four Unsullied, they went to the back of Illyrio's chamber, where a small sanctuary to R'hllor stood.
"Does the Magister believe in the Red God?" Ian asked casually.
"Almost all the nobles of Pentos are followers of the Lord of Light," Illyrio replied, producing a key and opening the temple door. "But this temple was here long before I was born."
Hearing this, Ian couldn't help but give a dry laugh.
*Of course.* Such a massive mansion in the most luxurious district of Pentos could not have been built by Illyrio himself. It must have belonged to other great men before him. But now, the former noble owners of this house had long since faded into the dust of history, and this place had become Illyrio's possession.
Ian followed Illyrio into the sanctuary, then watched as he pushed open a heavy bronze door in the basement. A faint chill washed over him.
Illyrio took a torch and began lighting the kerosene lamps mounted on the walls of the small treasure room. The entire basement flickered to life, and Illyrio's collections appeared before Ian's eyes.
The orange firelight was warm, and it lessened the chill that had settled on Ian's skin.
"Please, look around," Illyrio said generously. "Choose any one you like as your gift for the Khal's wedding."
Ian nodded silently, his eyes already captivated by the treasures laid out before him. He carefully picked up a mechanical clock. It was fashioned from gold-plated brass, with a crystal base studded with agate, emeralds, and tourmaline.
"A marvelous time-telling machine," Illyrio said, clearly satisfied with the shock on Ian's face. "It is said the master craftsmen of Braavos were inspired to create it based on an instrument from a faraway land. The hands upon its face can tell you the precise hour of the day."
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