Chapter 170: Pentos Rhapsody (Part 3)
"Who is she?" Mills had just emerged when he saw the unfamiliar face beside Ian and immediately questioned him.
"She's Hazan's sister. I brought her back as a hostage," Ian casually offered a reason.
If he could, Ian didn't actually want to bring Celia with him, but in his upcoming plan, he needed to control both his main body and the falcon simultaneously, leaving him with no extra mental energy to control the cat monitoring Celia. To ensure Celia was within his sight, he simply brought her along.
"Brought her back as a hostage?" Steward Mills was taken aback—this wasn't part of the plan.
"This is something Magister Illyrio ordered me to do. The Magister also said," Ian said, glancing sideways at the two slaves acting as decoys, "take them out first." He waved his hand, and Rol stepped forward and led the two away.
Mills had no objection. The two slaves had no idea they had been chosen as decoys for the Targaryen siblings, nor were they entitled to know about the plan.
"So what else did the Magister say?"
"That's not important," Ian shook his head. "What's important is..." He suddenly drew his dagger, swift as lightning, and instantly slit the throat of the steward standing beside him, Mills. The steward's carotid artery was severed, and bright red blood gushed out like a fountain.
At the same time, the water dancer master Yada drew his blade and instantly sliced open the throat of one Unsullied, while Keith plunged his longsword into the chest of another Unsullied.
"Move these corpses to the inner room," Ian ordered Keith.
After speaking, Ian picked up the whip used to command the Unsullied from Mills's body, gestured to Yada to keep watch on Celia, and then went upstairs.
That was where the Targaryen siblings' bedchamber was located.
The council hall was ostentatiously and luxuriously furnished. Exquisite marble floors were covered with Myrish carpets, the ceiling was adorned with mosaic patterns made of colored glass, and the walls were covered with vibrant murals. One hundred and twenty-eight gilded chandeliers hung overhead, and eight enormous stained-glass skylights opened in the eight directions of the hall.
Illyrio leaned back in his soft, leather-covered chair, looking up as the light streaming into the council hall through the stained-glass skylights gradually dimmed.
"Lord Illyrio," he suddenly heard someone call his name.
Illyrio looked up from the ceiling at the newcomer, a young man in his early twenties. His attire was very formal, making him appear even more serious than some of the fifty-year-olds in the council hall, but this couldn't conceal his slightly youthful face.
Illyrio recognized him—he was the head of House Sevasi, one of the forty families of the Grand Council. Due to the untimely deaths of several previous heads of the house, and with no one to carry on the legacy, they had no choice but to select the most talented among the younger generation to succeed.
This young man had placed all his hopes for the house's revival on Hazan, and was considered one of the most prominent voices of the Braavosi faction within the Grand Council.
And now, this very young man stood before him. Illyrio smiled: "Good day, Bidassini, what brings you here?"
"There are rumors circulating that you and Prince Hazan have formed an alliance. Is that true?" the young man asked somewhat anxiously.
"Pentos, it's time for some changes." Illyrio's answer seemed unrelated, but to Bidassini, it was an admission of sorts.
"Oh," Bidassini smiled immediately. "Lord Illyrio, I have long admired you, and I eagerly anticipate the day when we can cooperate."
"I believe we won't have to wait long," Illyrio replied with a smile.
At that moment, the bells rang in the council hall, signifying that the last family representative had taken their seat, and Prince Trigg Moharis of Pentos officially announced the start of the Grand Council.
After bowing to Illyrio, Bidassini hurriedly returned to his seat and began recounting his recent conversation to his allies.
The first to speak in the council was Magister Groiro Tetrus, who had requested the convening of this assembly.
Groiro stood in the center of the hall in simple military dress. He was unarmed, as Pentoshi tradition required everyone to hand over their weapons to the guards before entering the Council Palace.
Despite this, no one dared to underestimate the magister who was about to speak, for his army had already gathered in the north of the city, and if things were not handled properly today, Pentos would face catastrophe.
"Fellow magisters, I apologize for taking up your time by gathering you here on this occasion," Magister Tetrus's voice was loud and clear, ensuring everyone in the hall could understand his every word. "Today I come here with deep sorrow and anger to denounce the crimes committed by Prince Trigg's son, Hazan, against my son Suda and House Tetrus!
"Today, I come here in three capacities. First, as a father—this morning my son lost the use of his hands and feet, and will spend the rest of his life as a cripple. This fills me with grief and pain, but I will never seek revenge, for he was wounded on the field of honor, in fair combat.
"But Prince Hazan should have killed him on the spot! Hazan should have killed him, not humiliated him! He should have respected the traditions of Pentos, respected the opponent and the duel itself.
"So I am here as the head of House Tetrus, and I want to ask our Prince, what was the meaning of Hazan's mockery of my son on the fighting platform? He could have won decisively, yet he chose the most humiliating means! This is not only an insult to my son Suda, but a challenge and defilement of the honor of House Tetrus!"
Magister Tetrus raised his voice, his tone impassioned, and pointed to Prince Trigg on the dais. "May I interpret this as a provocation by House Moharis against House Tetrus?"
The Prince's eyes flickered, and he did not answer. According to his son's instructions, he was not to speak until he received news that the Targaryen siblings were under their control. The task of stalling for time was entirely left to Magister Tetrus.
"Finally, I've come here as a magister of Pentos. I'd like to ask Your Highness, what did Prince Hazan mean by repeatedly uttering 'Kneel and swear allegiance to me' during the tournament? It's common knowledge that only slaves kneel in Pentos. What was Hazan's intention? Was he humiliating all the citizens of Pentos?"
Sure enough, Tetrus's words instantly roused the drowsing magisters in the rotunda, plunging the hall into a cacophony of noise.
"Your Grace? Are you in there?" Ian had just knocked on Viserys's door without response, and a bad feeling rose in his heart.
He recalled a small detail he'd seen in the fifth book of the source material, where Illyrio mentioned that Viserys coveted Drogo's return gift but was unwilling to give up his sister—Daenerys, who by Targaryen tradition of sibling marriage, should have wed him.
(End of Chapter)
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