The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 257: Allies

(Twenty-ninth day of the lunar year, early New Year greetings to all book friends! Happy New Year!)

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Amory Lorch was ugly, bloodthirsty, and didn't seem very intelligent.

As he left the Mountain's camp, he curiously glanced at a large, fat man with golden hair and beard. The fat man had a dignified air, but his face was troubled, and anyone could see that he was unaccustomed to such travel.

Amory Lorch had never seen this fat man before. The fat man's features looked exotic, and his skin was particularly white, like a woman's. He also had no sword or dagger on his waist. This person didn't seem like a maester that the Mountain had brought back from King's Landing either; maesters wore grey robes, not golden robes of high-end silk. Judging by the jade belt around the fat man's waist, it was quite valuable.

The Mountain leading an army to war with a mysterious, non-combatant fat man was something Amory Lorch found difficult to understand.

After Amory left, the Mountain issued a series of orders, and Anguy the Archer, Raff the Sweetling, Dunsen the Hewer, and the neurotic Polliver led their soldiers away one after another.

Inside the tent, only the Mountain and the fat Illyrio Mopatis remained.

Illyrio frowned, forcing a smile at the Mountain.

"How long has it been since Lord Governor last rode a horse?" The Mountain got up and poured Illyrio a glass of Riverland wine, Summer Red.

"More than twenty years, I'm used to carriages," Illyrio said, trying to maintain the demeanor of a governor. If he were at his home in Pentos, he would already be lying in bed, receiving a massage from a young and beautiful Lyseni girl.

"A carriage with a bed?"

"…Uh…yes…" Illyrio gave a apologetic smile, as if he had done something wrong by riding in a carriage with a bed.

During the march today, Illyrio almost fell off his horse. This was quite a change for Illyrio, who had been a capable mercenary in his youth.

More than twenty years of good living had turned Illyrio into a truly pampered nobleman. He was indeed no longer able to ride a horse for long periods on rough mountain roads. The Mountain eventually had to arrange for three soldiers to take care of him.

"From what I know, your swordsmanship was first-rate twenty years ago, and Lord Governor was a top assassin in the Free Cities."

"Yes, but I can't go back to the past," Illyrio said, shaking the Summer Red in his hand. This wine had a slightly sweet and sour taste, making it very palatable.

"You have everything, so why are you still thinking about investing in the Targaryen family? Trying to help this family, which has reached the end of its road, to sit on the Iron Throne of Westeros again. If you fail, what will you lose? If you succeed, what will you gain?"

Illyrio looked at the Mountain in front of him, and the Mountain's words made his back covered in cold sweat.

In a country, talking to the general of that country about how to conspire to subvert the country's regime, no matter how you answer, it feels like walking on thin ice.

The speed at which Illyrio shook the wine in his hand slightly increased. He really didn't know what the Mountain's intention was. How should he answer this question? A complete denial was the safest, but the Mountain seemed so certain that he knew his secrets. Would lying to someone like the Mountain have unimaginable consequences?

But if he told the truth frankly, once he admitted it, wouldn't there be no turning back?

"General, I just want to survive," Illyrio replied, "General, please spare my life, and I will be very grateful and vow never to set foot on the continent of Westeros again."

This was the truth. He answered with a truth, but he didn't answer the Mountain's question. Illyrio was too smooth. Faced with the Mountain's question, he didn't know how to answer. On the issue of supporting the Targaryen family, if he said one wrong word, he might lose his head.

Illyrio took a sip of Summer Red, and he felt bitterness in his mouth. The taste of the wine had completely changed.

The Mountain was very relaxed. Illyrio and Varys didn't pose a real threat to him, unless they spent a lot of money to hire the Faceless Men of Braavos to assassinate him.

And in the dungeons of King's Landing, there was an assassin from Braavos, Jaqen H'ghar, who, along with Fang, a pit fighter from Flea Bottom, and Rorge, the owner of the fighting pit, were imprisoned in the Red Keep of King's Landing. If Varys knew Jaqen's true identity and used the tunnels of the Red Keep to rescue Jaqen H'ghar, he could have Jaqen assassinate the Mountain without spending a penny.

Braavosi assassins would not kill just anyone unless someone paid a staggering amount of money, or a believer devoutly sacrificed their life. But people only knew the rule that the Faceless Men of Braavos killed for money, and did not know that there was also a rule of exchanging lives.

"One million gold dragons can hire a top Braavosi assassin to kill me," the Mountain said, raising his glass to Illyrio, "I calculated the time it would take for your people to go from Pentos to Braavos, enter the House of Black and White, negotiate the deal, pay the money, and for the Faceless Man of Braavos to cross the sea to King's Landing, then to the Westerlands, and finally find me through various means. This would take more than three months. Therefore, I want to set the time for your one million gold dragon ransom within two months. If it exceeds two months and one day, if your money fails to reach King's Landing, I will kill you, and then kill Varys."

Illyrio's fat face twitched, and cold sweat broke out on his neck.

"From King's Landing to Pentos, at the speed of your merchant ships, the straight-line distance is enough for twenty days. A round trip is more than enough in forty days. Give your steward fifteen days to prepare the money, and we will still have five days of leeway."

The Mountain's calculations were very precise, which made Illyrio feel despair. Every point the Mountain made was accurate, like a prophet. Could it be that the mysterious blood mage who could see prophecies through blood was the Mountain himself?

"Lord, if we encounter storms, heavy rain, or strong winds, the route will deviate," Illyrio said with a smile.

"Extreme weather can indeed cause the ship's route to deviate, so if your money doesn't arrive within two months, you can only blame the heavens for taking your life. Actually, I don't want to kill you, because that would add another debt to the blood feud between Daenerys and me. However, I have already thought of a way to deal with Daenerys's dragons."

"Dragons?" Illyrio asked with a puzzled expression, "Daenerys doesn't have any dragons."

"I know she only has three dragon eggs now," the Mountain said with a mysterious smile, "Lord Illyrio, you and Varys conspired with Prince Doran and the Golden Company's Captain-General Myles Toyne to marry Daenerys to Drogo and then use Drogo's Dothraki cavalry, the Golden Company's ten thousand mercenaries, and Dorne's forty thousand Dornish soldiers to attack the continent of Westeros when the direwolves and lions are tearing each other apart and the Seven Kingdoms are in chaos, seizing the opportunity to take back the Iron Throne…"

The Mountain paced back and forth beside Illyrio, watching the Lord Governor's face finally turn pale and bloodless. "But your plan will soon fail. Myles Toyne has been dead for two years, and soon your king Viserys Targaryen will also die. You will soon receive news of his death."

Illyrio forced a smile and said, "Lord Mountain is really joking." Illyrio knew that Viserys was currently with Drogo.

"You will soon receive this unfortunate news," the Mountain said with a smile. Viserys was not fit to be a king. He was stubborn, cruel, indecisive, unable to judge the situation or assess the circumstances. He had ambitions that were too high and a life that was too fragile. How could you and Varys, such shrewd people, rack your brains to support him as king? Of course, you can still support Daenerys after Viserys dies, but soon Drogo will also die. Whether you and Varys accept it or not, your plan with Prince Doran will completely fail."

Illyrio opened his mouth wide and stared with his eyes wide. His short, fat neck mechanically turned with the Mountain's footsteps, his face full of shock, but he was completely unaware of his gaffe.

The Mountain stopped, turned around, and looked at the shocked Illyrio: "Lord Governor, although I am now the butcher and you are the fish, my future is also a dead end—if the Westerlands lose the civil war, I will surely die; if the Westerlands win, Lord Tywin will surely kill me in order to appease Dorne. Therefore, I actually want to find some true allies who can support each other."