GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

Chapter 645 - 647: A Life-and-Death Struggle (Part 1)

All kinds of noise seeped through the wooden boards into the carriage: hawkers shouting, customers bargaining with vendors, cats hissing, dogs barking, and children laughing as they chased one another.

Peering out from beneath the curtain, Illyrio saw King's Landing restored to life under Daenerys's iron rule. After enduring the chaos of two stags fighting for power, a long winter, and repeated sieges and breaches, the city had finally survived its hardships and stepped into a new era. Although the variety and quantity of goods in the market were still limited, and the weight people had lost during winter would not return overnight, the streets had at least begun to bustle again. Residents and patrolling soldiers passed one another without interference, and the relaxed, hopeful expressions on people's faces showed that everyone had emerged from the shadows and was striving to return to normal life.

It took some effort to set the carriage in motion toward the south gate. After crossing half the city without incident, Illyrio's tense nerves gradually began to ease. When the River Gate, open as usual, and the steady flow of people entering and leaving came into view, he finally let out a breath.

Perhaps he had been overly cautious.

The Night's Watch Industry had announced the release of classified information, yet King's Landing had not sealed its gates to trap him. This meant either it was not a trap aimed at him, or his swift and unexpected retreat had caught the trap-setter off guard.

"My lord, should we queue to leave the city, or speak with the guards for priority passage?" the coachman asked from the front. Since Illyrio was representing Pentos with a semi-official diplomatic status, he was entitled to certain privileges, hence the question.

"The line is not long. Let us wait a while," Illyrio said, patting his belly after a moment of thought.

Beyond the gate lay the docks, and beyond the docks were two layers of naval patrols at the mouth of the Blackwater and around Dragonstone. If the Hand truly meant to target him, he would be pursued even after boarding a ship. Leaving a little earlier would make no difference. Instead of rushing about blindly using his diplomatic status, it was better to follow normal procedures calmly. If he was meant to escape, these few moments would not matter.

Thus the servants obeyed, and the carriage quietly joined the line of people leaving the city.

It was past noon, and the line stretched long. Fortunately, the Unsullied and Free Folk soldiers guarding the gate were only maintaining order and did not search or question those passing through, so the line moved steadily. As the River Gate drew closer, Illyrio's anxiety eased further, leaving only a trace of unease.

As his sense of security returned, his thoughts grew more active.

Going back into the city was out of the question. Everything he needed to arrange in King's Landing had already been handled, and the theft of secrets from the Night's Watch Industry had progressed to the point where it could continue without him. Even if there was only the slightest chance this was a trap, he would not remain in danger.

But returning to Pentos was no longer feasible either.

Pentos was only his place of residence, not his territory.

Illyrio was not a city-state diplomat. This journey was one he had actively pursued. The task given to him by the council before departure was clear: to maneuver between Daenerys and Aegon, understand their political positions, and assess their future stance toward the Free Cities. He was to seek allies and protect Pentos's interests within the new Targaryen regime.

Now he understood Daenerys's position. As for Aegon, there was no need to investigate further. If he could not provide immediate support, it was doubtful whether the Golden Company and the Riverlands could withstand the Queen's army for even a month. What was the point of understanding the plans of a doomed side?

Returning to Essos to support the so-called City-State Coalition was one path, but distant water could not quench a nearby fire. Worse, if he returned now having failed his mission, he would face punishment from the other Magisters. Whether fines, confiscation, or debt recalls, any of these would break the fragile financial chain he had stretched to support Aegon, exposing his hollow strength and causing his entire faction to collapse.

He could not go back.

His thoughts raced until he found a final possibility, the Vale.

As the last major power in the Seven Kingdoms that had not declared its stance, the Vale must be in internal debate over its strategy. With the North and Riverlands already aligned with Daenerys, it was unlikely the Vale would side against them. Yet with the war nearing its conclusion, joining Daenerys now would yield little reward. In theory, the Vale still had reason to stir trouble.

This did not mean marching on King's Landing. Even the boldest lords would not dare. But if the Vale sent troops through the Bloody Gate at the critical moment when Daenerys's forces were deeply engaged in the Riverlands, and positioned themselves along the border, even without advancing further, the mere threat could relieve pressure on Aegon and buy him time.

The difficulty lay in persuading them.

The City-State Coalition.

In a flash of inspiration, Illyrio found his answer. Though the alliance was still weak and uncertain, the Vale did not know that. He could claim that after the Riverlands, Daenerys would face a powerful coalition across the Narrow Sea and would not have the strength to deal with the Vale. With that assurance, and some tangible benefits, perhaps the Vale could be persuaded.

The remaining question was where those benefits would come from.

...

While he pondered, the convoy approached the River Gate. The City Watch stood in formation, maintaining order, and waved them forward as usual. For a moment, it seemed Illyrio would pass through and reach the docks. Then the sound of galloping hooves came from the north.

His heart skipped. He lifted the curtain and looked.

The riders were dressed in black.

In an instant, his hope vanished. His heart plunged from relief into cold dread. The worst possibility had come true. There was no doubt now. The one who had killed Varys and framed Ezzan was the Hand of the Queen, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Aegor West. He had come to salvage the situation, only to walk straight into a trap.

It was absurd. He had been planning against his enemy, unaware that the enemy had already planned his death.

Outside, after a brief commotion, the carriage halted. The coachman called out anxiously, "My lord, the guards are stopping all passage. They are closing the gate. It seems they are here for us. What should we do?"

"Do not act rashly. Wait for my order."

His voice was calm, but sweat poured down his face. There was nothing he could do. His escape routes were cut off. Unless R'hllor intervened, he would not leave King's Landing today. And from what he knew, even the Lord of Light favored Daenerys.

Next would come the search. Then the "discovery" of stolen blueprints. Then detention and interrogation. His involvement in espionage would be exposed, and even the poisoning in Winterfell might be pinned on him through fabricated testimony.

He had protections as a benefactor and a diplomatic envoy. If he surrendered, he might eventually be released and expelled. But what he lacked most was time.

Without him, Aegon would lose precious time. The Queen's army would advance unchecked. Worse, he himself was already at the brink.

Illyrio Mopatis was far weaker than anyone believed.

Pentos was his base, but not his alone. Without him, other Magisters would not help him. They would strip his wealth piece by piece.

Ordinarily, he could endure such losses. But now he had nothing left. He had spent everything supporting Aegon. His wealth was gone. His influence was hollow.

Once exposed, creditors and rivals would tear him apart. Even if he escaped alive, he would have nothing left.

...

The higher one stands, the harder one falls.

He had wagered everything and lost to a latecomer. An ordinary man could start over. But a man like him would shatter completely.

His body trembled. Outside, guards surrounded the carriage, shouting for him to step out. Even his own men urged him to respond.

Illyrio heard nothing.

He would not end his story with surrender. He was still the Magister of Pentos. If he could not survive, he would at least strike back.

If he died now, he would become a martyr, not a defeated man.

He lifted the seat cushion.

A short bow gleamed beneath it.

His attendants were loyal, but they would not die for him. If this was to become a spectacle, he would begin it himself.

(To be continued.)