Marcos discovered that finding Illyrio Mopatis's mansion was not difficult.
The difficult part was not getting lost along the way.
"How could I have gotten lost AGAIN?" he muttered, looking around on a street that definitely wasn't the one he was looking for. "I was literally given clear directions. 'Follow Magisters Avenue until you see the largest mansion.' How the hell did I get lost following an AVENUE?"
A boy selling flowers looked at him with a mixture of confusion and pity.
—Sir, are you lost?
"No," Marcos lied with all the dignity he could muster. "I'm... exploring alternative routes."
—Are you looking for Magister Illyrio's mansion?
-...Yeah.
The boy pointed behind him.
"It's literally in that direction. He's been walking in circles for the last ten minutes."
Marcos sighed deeply.
—How obvious was it?
—Very obvious, sir.
"Thanks, kid." Marcos gave him a copper coin. "Have something to drink."
The boy accepted the coin with a smile and ran off.
Marcos turned around (for the fifth time in the last hour) and finally, FINALLY, saw the mansion.
And "mansion" was an understatement.
It was a massive, three-story structure with architecture that screamed, "I have more money than you, your family, and probably your hometown combined." White stone walls, ornate columns, gardens visible from the street, guards at the entrance in armor that looked like expensive things...
It was the kind of place where important people did important things.
Or conspiracies. Probably conspiracies.
Marcos stopped at a safe distance, observing.
He couldn't just knock on the door and say, "Hello, I've come to meet the exiled Targaryens." That was stupid even by his standards.
I needed a plan.
A real plan.
"Okay, let's think," he murmured, sitting down on the edge of a nearby fountain. "What do I know about Illyrio?"
She mentally reviewed what she remembered from the books and the series:
Illyrio Mopatis: Magister of Pentos, as rich as Croesus, ally of Varys
Professional conspirator
In canon, he "helps" Viserys and Daenerys as part of a larger plan
Sell Daenerys to Drogo to get a Dothraki army
He eventually reveals that he wants to put a fake Targaryen (Aegon VI, probably fake) on the throne
—So he's a manipulative son of a bitch who uses people like chess pieces—Marcos concluded.
Perfect. Exactly the type of person I DON'T want to negotiate with.
But if she wanted to get closer to Daenerys, Illyrio was an unavoidable obstacle.
The question was: how to handle it?
Option 1: Present yourself as a wealthy businessman interested in political alliances.
Pros: Credible, not threatening.
Cons: Illyrio would probably try to manipulate him.
Option 2: Present yourself as a minor nobleman from a distant land.
Pros: It would explain his wealth and unusual knowledge.
Cons: Easily verifiable as a lie.
Option 3: Infiltrate the mansion to observe directly.
Pros: First-hand information.
Cons: If he gets caught, it's a guaranteed death sentence.
Option 4: Do nothing yet and continue gathering information.
Pros: Safe.
Cons: Boring and slow.
"Option 3," he decided with a smile. "Because I obviously have a problem making sensible decisions."
But he wasn't going to infiltrate now, in broad daylight, with guards everywhere.
I would wait until night.
And in the meantime, I would explore the perimeter.
For the next few hours, Marcos walked around Illyrio's mansion (getting lost only twice, which he considered a personal victory) mentally mapping the structure.
The mansion occupied an entire city block. It was surrounded by a stone wall approximately three meters high. There were four visible entrances: the main one (with guards), a side entrance (also with guards), a rear entrance (probably for service, with fewer guards), and what appeared to be a carriage gate.
The gardens were extensive. I could see trees from outside, which meant cover.
The windows on the second and third floors were open. There was no glass, only wooden shutters.
"Feasible," he murmured. "Definitely feasible."
With his power, he could jump over the wall without a problem. Climbing through a window would be trivial. And if he were discovered... well, technically he could erase memories, alter perceptions, or in the worst-case scenario, fight his way out.
Although he preferred to avoid unnecessary violence.
Not because he was particularly pacifist, but because it would attract too much attention.
"Tonight then," he decided. "Night infiltration. Like a ninja. An Argentinian ninja with godlike powers and Minecraft."
It sounded ridiculous even in his own head.
Perfect.
Marcos spent the rest of the day preparing.
He returned to his inn and experimented with his Minecraft inventory, searching for items useful for infiltration.
Invisibility Potions: They existed. They lasted three minutes according to the game description. Perfect.
Wool Blocks: They didn't make any noise when you walked on them. Useful.
Ender Pearls: They allowed short-distance teleportation. Extremely useful.
Boots with Feather Falling Enchantment: They eliminated fall damage. Very useful.
Diamond Sword with Edge Enchantment: Just in case things got ugly.
Marcos mentally equipped everything, feeling the items materialize in his inventory.
"This is cheating," he said with a smile. "And I love it."
He also practiced using his Anos magic.
She closed her eyes and focused on her perception of her surroundings. Immediately, she could "feel" the entire room: every piece of furniture, every crack in the wall, even a spider in a corner of the ceiling.
He extended his perception beyond the room.
I could sense the entire inn. The other rooms. The people in them. Their movements.
It was like having a three-dimensional radar in his mind.
"This is incredible," he murmured. "I can tell exactly where every guard is in the mansion without even seeing them."
He practiced a little more: levitation (he could float at will), physical strengthening (his muscles felt like iron), light manipulation (he could become almost invisible without the need for potions)...
Anos's power had no clear limits. It was as if the universe simply accepted that he could do whatever he wanted, and adjusted the rules accordingly.
"Okay," he finally said. "I'm ready. Now I just need it to get dark."
Night fell upon Pentos like a heavy cloak.
Marcos emerged from his inn dressed entirely in black (he had created dark clothing using Minecraft: pants, a shirt, even a hood). He looked like an Assassin's Creed cosplayer, but it worked.
The streets were less crowded at night. A few drunks, guards patrolling, prostitutes on street corners, night vendors...
Marcos avoided everyone, moving through alleys and shadows.
His sense of direction was still rubbish, but with his extended magical perception, he could literally "feel" where he needed to go.
"Finally, a solution to my lifelong problem," he murmured with satisfaction.
He arrived at Illyrio's mansion.
The guards at the main entrance were alert, but bored. It was a normal night for them.
Marcos moved towards the back of the mansion, where there was less security.
The three-meter wall stood before him.
Marcos smiled.
He focused, activated his physical reinforcement, and jumped.
It wasn't a normal human jump. It was a leap that easily carried him five meters into the air, clearing the wall as if it were a minor obstacle.
He landed in the garden with a barely audible sound, his knees absorbing the impact effortlessly.
"Parkour," he whispered to himself, because the situation warranted it.
The garden was beautiful even at night: well-kept trees, flowers, stone paths, a fountain with statues...
And two guards patrolling.
Marcos sensed them before he saw them.
He remained motionless behind a tree.
The guards walked past at a distance of three meters, talking quietly about something boring.
When they walked away, Marcos moved.
He used his perception to map the mansion. Three floors. The first appeared to be the common areas and kitchens. The second, guest rooms and private spaces. The third, the personal quarters of Illyrio and his most important guests.
—Third floor then —he decided.
He approached the mansion wall. The second-floor windows were closed but not locked (there were no sophisticated locks in this world). The third-floor windows were open for ventilation.
Marcos concentrated, activated partial levitation, and began to climb.
It wasn't exactly climbing. It was more like... floating upwards while her hands and feet touched the wall to maintain the illusion of normalcy.
He reached a third-floor window and peered out carefully.
An empty room. Luxuriously decorated but uninhabited.
Marcos entered silently, landing on the ground without a sound.
"Okay, I'm in," he murmured. "Now to explore."
He broadened his perception.
There were... many people on this floor. Servants. Guards. And in the east wing of the mansion, two presences that felt... different.
An imposing, arrogant era, with an aura of barely contained madness.
The other one was small, scared, like a caged bird.
"Viserys and Daenerys," Marcos whispered.
I had found them.
She moved down the corridor with ghostly steps. Her magic suppressed any sound she made. She passed by a servant who didn't even look up.
He arrived at the east wing.
There were two large rooms. One had an arrogant presence. The other, a frightened one.
Marcos approached the second one.
The door was closed but not locked.
He activated his enhanced vision and literally "saw" through the door as if it were transparent.
And there she was.
Daenerys Targaryen.
Sitting by a window, looking at the moon.
She was young. Very young. Probably thirteen or fourteen years old. Platinum blonde hair that reached her waist, pale skin, violet eyes that reflected the moonlight.
She was dressed in a simple nightgown. There were no luxuries in her room despite it being in a mansion. It was functional, almost spartan.
She looked... alone.
Marcos felt something tighten in his chest.
This was the girl who, in the canon, would be sold as merchandise. Who would be repeatedly raped. Who would lose everything before gaining anything.
"Not if I can help it," he murmured so softly that even he couldn't hear himself.
Daenerys stood up suddenly, as if she had sensed something.
He looked towards the door.
Marcos remained motionless, even holding his breath.
"Is anyone there?" Daenerys asked in a low voice, in Valyrian.
Silence.
Marcos didn't move. He didn't breathe. He used his magic to become completely imperceptible.
Daenerys waited a moment longer, then shook her head and went back to the window.
"I'm getting paranoid," he heard her murmur. "Like Viserys."
Marcos waited a full five minutes before moving.
When he did, it was to explore the rest of the floor.
He found Viserys's room. He was awake, drinking wine and muttering to himself about "his throne" and "what was rightfully his."
Marcos watched him through the wall and felt disgusted.
Viserys Targaryen: the Third Son of the Mad King, self-styled King of the Seven Kingdoms, in reality just a broken and embittered man from exile and loss.
In the canon, he would die trying to steal Daenerys' dragon eggs, with molten gold poured over his head.
—A fitting death for an idiot—Marcos thought cruelly.
He felt no sympathy.
He continued exploring.
He found Illyrio's room. The Magister was asleep, snoring like a pig. He was an obese man, with jewels on every finger, sleeping in a bed that probably cost more than a house.
Marcos felt tempted to search the room for documents or information, but that would be too risky.
already obtained what she came for: confirmation that Daenerys was here, and a visual assessment of the situation.
It was time to leave.
He was about to leave when he heard voices downstairs.
He looked out of a hallway window and saw something interesting.
In the garden, two figures were conversing in low voices.
One was Illyrio, apparently not as asleep as Marcos thought.
The other was a bald, thin man, wearing fine clothes.
Marcos activated his enhanced hearing.
—The Khal has agreed—the bald man said. He will meet with the girl in two weeks.
"Excellent," Illyrio replied in his honeyed voice. "And Viserys?"
He remains convinced he will regain his throne. He is still useful for keeping the girl under control.
—For now. After marriage, the brother becomes... dispensable.
—Are you sure Drogo will accept it? He's very young.
"Khals don't care about age. They care about lineage. And she has the blood of the dragon." Illyrio laughed.
Besides, they say the girl is beautiful. That helps.
Marcos clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
They were talking about Daenerys as if she were cattle.
"Two weeks," the bald man continued. "After that, the plan can proceed. The Dothraki will cross the Narrow Sea, Westeros will descend into chaos, and our true candidate..."
"Careful, Varys," Illyrio interrupted. "Even here, the walls have ears."
Varys.
Marcos recognized the name immediately.
Varys, the Spider, the Master of Whispers.
"This is bigger than I thought," Marcos murmured.
Varys and Illyrio were conspiring not only to marry Daenerys off, but to use the resulting Dothraki invasion as a distraction for some other plan.
Probably the plan of Aegon VI, the supposed son of Rhaegar whom Varys would present as the "true heir".
"You sons of bitches," Marcos muttered. "You're using that girl as a disposable tool."
The two conspirators continued talking for a few more minutes, but nothing new came of it. Eventually, they parted ways, Varys disappearing into the shadows (literally, the guy was good) and Illyrio returning to his room.
Marcos decided he had pushed his luck enough.
It was time to leave.
He backed down the corridor, went down to the second floor using an empty service staircase, and then jumped out of a window into the garden.
The guards didn't see it.
He jumped over the wall.
And he disappeared into the night of Pentos.
Back in his room at the inn, Marcos sat on the bed and processed everything he had seen and heard.
Information gathered:
Daenerys was in Illyrio's mansion, but she lived in spartan conditions despite the surrounding luxury. Viserys was exactly as pathetic as I remembered from the canon. The marriage to Drogo would be planned in two weeks. Illyrio and Varys had a larger plan that involved using Daenerys as a distraction. Viserys was considered "expendable" after marriage.
"Two weeks," he said aloud. "I have two weeks before they sell that girl to a warlord."
The million-dollar question was: what to do about it?
Option 1: Intervene directly. Kidnap Daenerys from the manor, offer her protection.
Pros: It would save Daenerys from the trauma of canon.
Cons: It would immediately create powerful enemies (Illyrio, Varys, and eventually Drogo). Also, without marrying Drogo, Daenerys would never obtain the dragon eggs.
Option 2: Let the marriage happen, but intervene afterward to "rescue" her.
Pros: Daenerys would get the dragon eggs. Mark would appear as a savior.
Cons: Daenerys would still suffer trauma. Morally questionable.
Option 3: Interfere with the plan more subtly. Sabotage the marriage without revealing your involvement.
Pros: Minimal collateral damage.
Cons: Complicated to implement. High risk of things going wrong.
Option 4: Introduce yourself to Illyrio as a third player interested in the Targaryens.
Pros: I would play the political game directly.
Cons: Illyrio would try to manipulate him.
"No option is perfect," Marcos murmured, clutching his head. "Every decision has consequences. Every action creates ripples."
She thought of Daenerys, sitting alone by that window, looking at the moon.
He thought about what awaited him if he did nothing.
And then he thought of something his grandfather had once told him:
"Marquitos, sometimes in life you're going to have to choose between what's right and what's easy. And when that moment comes, remember: what's easy lets you sleep peacefully that night. What's right lets you look at yourself in the mirror for the rest of your life."
Marcos made a decision.
"I'm going to intervene. But intelligently." He stood up and began pacing the room. "I can't kidnap her yet. That would cause immediate chaos. But I can... prepare the ground."
He opened his Minecraft inventory and started planning.
If he was going to build an empire, he needed territory.
If he was going to offer Daenerys refuge eventually, he needed a safe place.
And most importantly: if he was going to challenge players like Illyrio, Varys, and eventually the kings and queens of Westeros...
He needed to be untouchable.
"Okay," he said aloud, with renewed determination. "New plan. In the next two weeks, I'm going to:"
One: Acquire territory. Not by buying it, because that requires negotiating with corrupt magistrates. I will claim it. There are unclaimed lands outside Pentos, in the Disputed Lands or near the ruins of Valyria. No one wants them. I do.
Two: Build a fortress using Minecraft. A fortress that is literally impregnable. With walls, defenses, and everything necessary to keep an army at bay.
Three: Establish my presence as an independent player. Let people know there's someone new on the board.
And four… —He smiled dangerously—. I am going to introduce myself to Daenerys Targaryen. Not as a conspirator. Not as a manipulator. But as someone who offers her something that no one else in her life has ever offered her: choice.
It was an ambitious plan.
Probably stupid.
Definitely risky.
But Marcos Vidal Santacruz hadn't died crushed by a plaster Napoleon only to be reincarnated with divine power and Creative Minecraft just to be prudent .
"I'll start tomorrow," he decided. "Tomorrow the construction of the empire begins."
He lay down on the bed.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time since his reincarnation, he smiled with genuine emotion.
Things were about to get interesting.
In Illyrio's mansion, Daenerys Targaryen was still awake, staring at the moon.
I didn't know why, but I felt that something had changed that night.
As if fate itself had taken a turn that no one expected.
He shook his head.
"I'm being silly," she told herself. "Nothing's going to change. Nothing ever changes."
But deep down, somewhere in her heart, a small flame of hope was ignited.
And in the cosmos, two divine entities watched with renewed interest.
"This is getting good," Aetheria commented.
"I give you three days before you cause an international incident," her husband replied.
—I bet he does it in two.
They both laughed.
And the Architect of the Eternal Empire, unknowingly, had just taken his first step towards a destiny that would change not one, but multiple universes.
[END OF CHAPTER 4]