Illyrio simply couldn’t understand it.
Wasn’t it perfectly fine to live comfortably as a wealthy young lord?
He had even arranged a beautiful maid for Aegon.
What exactly was this boy dissatisfied with?
Why did he insist on meddling in one thing after another?
Illyrio had merely gone to King’s Landing to meet an old friend, Varys, and now he’d come back to find this enormous headache waiting for him.
“Where is that little brat now?” Illyrio demanded angrily as he climbed down from his carriage.
“The young master is in his room.”
The moment he learned Aegon’s whereabouts, Illyrio stormed toward his room, taking three steps for every two of an ordinary man.
He hadn’t gone far when his foot accidentally struck a stone.
Had a servant not reacted quickly enough to steady him, he might have twisted his ankle.
“Who cleaned this place today?
Deduct a month’s wages!” Illyrio roared.
He instinctively moved farther away from the shadows cast by the fence, as though those sharp silhouettes might somehow stab his feet.
Illyrio was already furious, and the faster he walked, the heavier his breathing became.
By the time he reached Aegon’s door, he was already panting heavily.
He shoved the door open with a furious expression, only to find Shamira sitting beside Aegon and massaging his feet.
“Get out!” Illyrio said coldly.
Shamira lowered her head and clasped her hands obediently, preparing to leave.
She had never seen Illyrio this angry before.
“What’s wrong with you, old man?
Leave her here!” Aegon shot back without the slightest fear.
But Illyrio was in no mood to be reasonable.
He had never imagined Aegon would cause such a massive headache.
In the past, he could still play the role of a doting father, indulging Aegon almost unconditionally.
But now, he felt as though a ball of fire had lodged itself in his chest.
If he didn’t vent it soon, he felt like he might suffocate from anger.
Illyrio glared at Aegon and strode toward him before suddenly kicking over the basin at Aegon’s feet.
“You little bastard!
Are you trying to drive me to my grave?”
“What did I do?” Aegon’s voice was every bit as loud as Illyrio’s.
If anything, his youth gave him steadier breath and greater endurance.
Neither man was willing to back down, leaving Shamira thoroughly frightened.
Illyrio took two heavy breaths before finally speaking.
“I attended the council of governors today.
Do you know what decision they made?
“Bandit suppression?” Aegon laughed.
“Isn’t that perfect?
I’m commanding a field cavalry regiment.
Dealing with bandits is part of our job.
Of course I have to go.”
Seeing his careless attitude, Illyrio felt like his head was about to explode.
“Do you even understand what war is?
People die!”
For all these years, Illyrio had kept Aegon close for one overriding reason: if his true son, Young Griff, eventually launched his bid for the Iron Throne and failed, Illyrio could hand over the real Aegon and use him to buy his son’s life.
If Aegon died while suppressing bandits, all his calculations would collapse.
That was something Illyrio absolutely could not accept.
“I’m the one who might die.
Why are you getting so worked up?” Aegon sat upright and spoke with complete indifference.
His violet eyes stared straight into Illyrio’s, as though he were trying to dig the answer hidden inside the man’s expression.
Illyrio was so furious that his mind went blank.
For a moment, he didn’t even know how to respond.
He couldn’t even bring himself to say something as simple as, Because you’re my son.
He struggled for a long while, his enormous body trembling more and more violently.
Seeing him like this, Aegon decided to twist the knife a little deeper.
“I thought you’d say that I’m the only thing my mother left behind for you.
But seeing how angry you are now, it seems you’ve forgotten her long ago.
All your thoughts are focused on that Young Griff!”
The moment Illyrio heard those words, he froze.
He had come here intending to interrogate Aegon.
How had the situation somehow been completely reversed?
“That’s exactly what I mean!
Exactly!” Illyrio hurriedly seized the opening Aegon had given him.
“I don’t want you taking this risk.
If something happens to you and you lose your life, how could I ever face your dead mother?”
Aegon immediately understood.
The name Young Griff was simply too useful.
Whenever Aegon acted as though he resented Young Griff or was jealous of the attention Illyrio gave him, Illyrio would immediately back down.
The atmosphere between the two gradually eased, and only then did Illyrio explain what had happened at the council of governors.
Morwagen had approached Illyrio with a proposal: Aegon was to lead troops against the bandits roaming the area around Ghoyan Drohe.
Illyrio had naturally refused.
There was absolutely no way he could allow him to casually die somewhere in the wilderness.
Ghoyan Drohe had originally been a city founded by the Rhoynar.
After the Valyrians destroyed it, the surviving Rhoynar who remained in the region retreated into the mountains.
Over time, the descendants of a people who had once possessed a brilliant civilization became rough mountain folk living in an inhospitable land.
They secretly supported the bandits led by a notorious outlaw named Luchys.
In short, it was an extremely dangerous region.
The Toksor family had already sent troops there several times without success.
Illyrio believed Aegon wouldn’t be able to handle it either, so he suggested that perhaps they could raise money and hire a mercenary company instead.
But the other side brought up Aegon’s refusal to help the Kezelya family.
Although Illyrio immediately offered to apologize and compensate them, once the Toksor family became involved as well, he understood that this wasn’t really about Aegon.
The real reason was that Illyrio had refused to take sides for far too long.
According to his original plan, he only needed to endure for a few more years.
By then, Young Griff would have grown up, Daenerys would have married the horselord, and his grand plan to switch the two Targaryen identities could finally begin.
Once that happened, he would no longer need to care about the politics of Pentos.
But now, it was obvious that things weren’t going to be so simple.
As Aegon listened to Illyrio’s explanation, he gained a rough understanding of the petty maneuvering among the governors of Pentos.
Yet instead of becoming angry, he was actually excited.
At least now he knew that the two great factions weren’t trying to crush Illyrio or exclude him.
They simply wanted to teach him a lesson and force him to choose a side.
In other words, if he handled this mission successfully, he might soon be able to rise in rank, obtain a higher title, and take control of an even larger army.
Illyrio wanted to leave Pentos someday, step away from the table, and refuse to play the game anymore.
Aegon wanted to control Pentos, flip the table over, and play the game himself.
“Old man!
Bandits!
They have to be crushed, no matter when they show up!
Leaving them alone isn’t an option!
I grew up in Pentos, so what’s wrong with doing something for the city?
Besides, they’re only a bunch of bandits.
Leave them to me.”
Seeing Aegon speak like this, Illyrio could only find the whole thing absurd.
Apparently, the boy regarded war as nothing more than hunting—or perhaps some exciting new game.
Illyrio had no intention of throwing himself into the cesspit that was Pentos for Aegon’s sake.
If Aegon truly wanted to seek death, then let him go.
His true son, Young Griff, was the heart of his entire plan.