A servant looked up at the sky.
The sun was still merciless.
To the people of Pentos, a day without rain was like being forced to hold their breath underwater.
Only when the rain finally came could they draw a proper breath again.
But for the very few who possessed enough wealth and power, even a sun twice as vicious would mean little.
A servant carried a large basin filled with ice behind a carved lattice wall, where five or six other servants stood waving fans over the basin.
The cold air rising from the melting ice was driven into the room, ensuring that its master would never have to endure the oppressive heat.
Morwagen reclined in a cushioned chair, a small bowl in his hand still covered with a fine layer of cool condensation.
Beside him rested a gilded scepter carved in the shape of a harpy.
A hairless man clad in leather armor and wearing a spiked helmet stood silently at his side, as rigid and motionless as a spear.
“He’s going to train until dark?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You heard that with your own ears?”
“It was what the men below told me.”
Morwagen let out a careless chuckle.
He picked up the scepter and spoke.
“Kill him.
Black Dog, you will handle this.”
“Yes, my master.”
The hairless man wearing the spiked helmet was known as Black Dog.
He was the “commander” of House Kezelya’s five hundred Unsullied guards.
The Unsullied were loyal to no individual.
Whoever possessed the Unsullied scepter bearing the image of a harpy was the one whose commands they obeyed.
That was why Morwagen never allowed the scepter to leave his side.
As long as it remained in his hand, he could control the entirety of House Kezelya and, through them, exert control over all of Pentos.
As for “Black Dog,” that naturally wasn’t his true name.
He was Unsullied, and Unsullied were forbidden from having names of their own.
Their names were replaced with degrading words and changed regularly.
Daenerys Targaryen’s commander of the Unsullied, for example, was known as Grey Worm.
There were also names such as Lice, Flea, Maggot, and Toad.
The purpose was to strip the Unsullied of their sense of individual worth and gradually erase their sense of identity.
Black Dog was different only because he had served Morwagen at his side for so many years.
To avoid unnecessary complications, Morwagen had simply allowed him to keep using the name Black Dog.
“What?”
Sevatt’s thick eyebrows nearly knitted together, but he quickly realized that Morwagen couldn’t possibly mean that he wanted Illyrio’s son killed.
He meant Lantio—the man who had brought him the report.
That business about refusing to serve House Kezelya because he had to train until dark was probably something Lantio had exaggerated.
Then again, it was entirely possible.
Silas, as Illyrio’s son, couldn’t possibly be unaware of it.
Sevatt felt a chill run through his limbs as he once again experienced the governor’s ruthlessness.
But whatever the truth, Lantio had been acting under the banner of House Kezelya.
Aegon had rejected him.
Whatever his reason, he had still rejected them.
Sevatt believed there had to be a response.
“Then…
what should we do about Illyrio?”
Morwagen gently moved the half-finished bowl in his hand to the side.
A maid immediately stepped forward to take it and presented him with a chilled cloth with which to wipe his fingers.
“I seem to recall that a band of brigands has appeared around Ghoyan Drohe.
Their leader is named Luchys, a Rhoynar.
The Toksor family has sent men after them several times, yet they have failed every time.”
“Yes, my lord.
Luchys has repelled at least four campaigns by House Toksor.”
“Since Illyrio’s son enjoys playing soldier so much, send him there after some time.
Let him learn a lesson.”
Pentos was a city-state ruled by merchants, and merchants hated risk more than almost anything.
In Morwagen’s eyes, if Aegon were sent out with Pentos’s soldiers to suppress the bandits, he would be lucky to come back alive.
And if he survived, he would certainly return considerably worse for wear.
Aegon was Illyrio’s only “son.” Once something happened to him, Morwagen would have a means of putting pressure on Illyrio and forcing the slippery fat merchant onto his side.
Morwagen placed considerable importance on Illyrio.
Although Illyrio had only risen to prominence in recent years, his wealth was immense, and he seemed to possess an almost uncanny understanding of events in Westeros.
Whenever King’s Landing needed something, he seemed to know about it almost immediately.
Yet the man showed little interest in increasing his political influence within Pentos.
It was almost as if he had another objective entirely.
According to the information Morwagen had gathered, Illyrio also appeared to have a close relationship with the powerful Golden Company.
If Morwagen wanted to dominate Pentos completely, he needed Illyrio.
The only problem was that he had never found the right opportunity.
Now, Aegon’s affair had finally given him an opening.
…
Word of Aegon spending his own money to improve the soldiers’ lives had spread throughout Pentos long ago.
The news that he had rejected House Kezelya had also spread like wildfire.
Naturally, House Toksor heard about it.
“There was really such an incident?!” a somewhat portly man exclaimed.
How did he dare refuse?
Didn’t Illyrio tell him which people he could afford to offend and which he couldn’t?”
The man’s name was Galeri.
In name, he was the commander of the Pentoshi army.
In reality, however, he possessed none of the authority one would expect from such a position.
At most, he simply received a somewhat larger share of the nonexistent soldiers whose wages were being pocketed.
“Morwagen can’t be offended?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, Lord Toksor.”
Galeri hurriedly apologized to the old man standing behind him, whose face carried the weariness of someone who had long since exhausted his vitality.
House Kezelya and House Toksor were the two most powerful families in Pentos.
The former controlled every major port in the city, while the latter possessed more than half of Pentos’s farmland.
Their great dispute centered on food.
House Kezelya believed that food could simply be imported and wanted House Toksor to free the people bound to the fields.
But House Toksor refused for the sake of its own interests, keeping those people tied to the land and even constructing small fortifications to resist any attempt to force them out.
The two sides had argued endlessly.
But one possessed money while the other possessed manpower.
Neither could defeat the other, and so the conflict remained locked in a stalemate.
“Hmph!” The old governor snorted.
“Regardless of why Illyrio’s son rejected Morwagen, this is an opportunity for us.”
“Send some grain to the military camp where Illyrio’s son is stationed.
Tell him that I admire him greatly.”
“My lord?
Why would we give that boy grain for free?”
“You pig-brained fool!” The old governor glared at him.
“Once we make this relationship official, do you think Illyrio will be able to escape us?
He’ll have no choice but to rely on us!”
“After all these years, you still don’t understand?
That man possesses information from Westeros.
With him on our side, we can turn grain into gold!”
“I understand, my lord.
I understand!”
Galeri immediately turned to arrange for the grain to be transported.
But before he could leave, Toksor stopped him.
“Remember—use the old grain.”
The corner of Galeri’s mouth twitched slightly.
His lord was truly miserly.
Even now, he was still thinking about how to save a few coins.
“Yes, my lord.”