NOVEL NEXT Chapter 14: Chapter 14: A Slave!
"It is a Free City!" Was Old Griff's response, sounding unbelievably bitter. He, too, was eager to see Illyrio, mostly because I planted the seeds of doubt of my own legitimacy in his mind.
Not the best thing for the long run, but I shared the blame when I decided the press the issue. I knew Jon Connington and his attitude, but not the handsome Septa Lemore nor Haldon, or even Duck who I now saw as a close friend.
The latter three could all be Illyrio's agents.
I nod, knowing he was unwilling to say any more of the subject. I did research the place from Haldon's books. Pentos had been a colony, one of Old Valyria's daughters.
One that tried to return to the old ways of slavery but was denied by Braavos who turned Pentos into little more than a puppet state repeatedly throughout history, its status depending on the whims of the ruling Sealord.
With the current treaty in place, Pentos barely had much in the way of a fleet, only allowed twenty warships, and they couldn't hire sellswords nor make contact with the Free Companies.
They were also forbidden much in the way of an army, therefore reliant on the Most Splendid Republic of Braavos for protection which came at a high cost.
As a consequence, the Free City of Pentos formed close relations with Dothraki Khals and used them as a private army to attack their enemies.
"Trust Pentoshi to find loopholes in any agreement," was a common saying around Essos.
Entering Pentos had been an experience all by itself. Going through the Sunrise gate, the streets were straight and lined with trees and beautiful buildings that looked like I stepped back in antiquity.
The apartments were three to four stories high, made of bricks and with slanted ceramic roofs.
Like many Free Cities, they held numerous different beliefs within the walls. One such was the Red God who currently had a congregation of their faithful parading through the streets, all in red cloaks and hoods.
Each one carried a torch in hand, being led by one who chanted into the sky. That wasn't to mention the various other places of worship we came across.
I struggled to keep sense of all the sights. I was used to chaos. I was born in a capital city, so that was natural, but it was all strange and foreign nonetheless.
Pentos was very metropolitan, with hundreds of peoples of different races and creeds and cultures.
Some were as pale as milk, with furs of tigers and dresses of samite and linen and wool, some were tall and dark, others pale and others olive.
While it was a Pentoshi custom for many to dye their hair like myself, theirs were much more outlandish.
I saw people whose hair was oiled and formed into strange shapes, anything from unicorns to stuff that wouldn't look out of place in a contemporary art gallery.
I saw tumblers and musicians and street actors riling up the crowds. There was even a magician who kept the mass in suspense while pickpockets took home easy coins.
The bazaars – Septa Lemore claimed – had everything that existed in the world that could be sold. A part of me wanted to see what the world here had to offer.
It all made me feel like a tourist.
Eventually we reached Illyrio Mopatis' estate. It was a mighty thing. High brick walls lined with long spears like those of a phalanx surrounded the perimeter.
Clearly no one, not even the greatest of fools, would dare try to climb over it. The wheelhouse stopped outside the iron gates of the manse, guarded by what could only be Unsullied.
They looked different from what appeared in the show. They were shirtless, with metal caps with a long iron spike that I'm sure would kill someone should they decide to head-butt some poor sod.
They held round shields and spears like those of a hoplite, but they also looked pudgy and fat. Not the kind of people you would expect for the best fighting force in Essos.
But I supposed it came down to them being household guards with food being the only vice left to them so they indulged upon it.
'Not to mention they lack the need to be on edge all the time.' I wasn't a fan of Unsullied to be honest. Oh, they may be the most disciplined and obedient soldiers, but they weren't practical.
The expense to make and train them was just too expensive to waste them in fighting. Their phalanx formation would also make them unwieldly and tactically inflexible.
'Just get me some peltasts and I can match Daenerys' Unsullied in battle.'
After Jon Connington and Haldon spoke a few words, we were ushered inside the grounds.
There were no other words to describe it other than beautiful. The gardens were large and open with lemon trees and bright flowers, painted statues of beautiful youths and marvellous creatures.
There were marble bathing pools with fountains and ponds home to brightly coloured fish. The building itself, Illyrio's residence, was gorgeous.
It was enough to take my breath away and clearly not the home of a humble man.
It wasn't my financier who welcomed us, instead a willowy girl with pale-golden hair and blue eyes. She smiled at me like she knew me before. I returned the smile, and perhaps with a bit of a blush.
She was certainly striking to behold and couldn't have looked much older than eighteen. I did try to ignore her thin lilac dress which left little to the imagination. While I was polite, Rolly didn't avert his eyes at all.
"Please, my lords, Magister Illyrio is very much expecting you, though this one should inform you that master Illyrio is currently in talks with his fellow magisters. My fellow servants will take your belongings. Master Griff, please would you follow me?" She was looking at me, eyes down and submissive.
After a quick glance at Old Griff, I accepted and awkwardly climbed off Shadowmare, before handing the reins to a stocky man whose eyes looked defeated.
'A slave.' Illyrio did keep slaves. He was a merchant prince who dealt with many things: dragon bones, spices, silks and flesh.
The girl – who called herself Serala – escorted me through the spacious halls. If I was impressed on the outside, it couldn't compare to the interior.