Chapter 20: The Alchemist's Mercy and the Price of Pawns
The coded dispatch from Ledger at Dragon's Tooth lay heavy on the map table in the Nexus, its contents a stark reminder of the corrosive realities of Viserys's expanding enterprise. The Ghiscari official's depraved demand, and Ledger's forced compliance to protect their fragile outpost, had sent ripples of disquiet through their small contingent there. The guard involved, a young Braavosi named Tymor, though physically unharmed, was reportedly withdrawn, his morale shattered. Alistair Finch, the man of letters and history, felt a profound distaste for the situation, a grim acknowledgment of the barbarity that power often fed upon. Viserys, the boy-king forged in exile and armed with unnatural abilities, recognized a critical vulnerability: a broken pawn could disrupt the entire game. The "Price of Pawns" was a recurring, bitter lesson, but perhaps, he mused, an "Alchemist's Mercy" could sometimes transmute base necessity into a more palatable, or at least strategically sound, outcome.
His solution was intricate, designed not only to salvage Tymor's spirit (and ensure his silence and continued loyalty) but also to turn the tables on the predatory Ghiscari official. He dispatched a coded message back to Ledger, outlining a carefully staged "incident." A few days later, a small band of "desert nomads" (in reality, a handful of Viserys's most discreetly hired local mercenaries, their appearance altered, their instructions precise) would launch a minor, feigned attack on a shipment of goods Ledger was "inspecting" near Dragon's Tooth. Tymor, by pre-arrangement known only to Ledger and the attackers, was to "heroically" defend Ledger, sustaining a "grievous" but ultimately superficial wound in the process.
The "attack" went according to plan. The "nomads" were driven off after a brief, noisy skirmish. Tymor, bleeding impressively from a skillfully managed cut (courtesy of a Ghiscari healer Ledger had been instructed to bribe for this specific, minor service, the healer believing it to be a result of a drunken brawl), was lauded by Ledger as a savior. The Ghiscari official, informed of the "bandit attack" and Tymor's "bravery," was told, with great regret by Ledger, that the young guard's wounds were too severe for him to remain in service at Dragon's Tooth; he was being invalided back to Braavos with a handsome bonus for his valor. The official, having already had his way and now presented with a convenient, face-saving narrative, raised no objections. Tymor, his honor seemingly restored, his pockets filled, and his trauma somewhat mitigated by the charade of heroism, was shipped back to Braavos, where Lyra of Lys's more subtle skills in healing both body and mind would ensure his recovery and his continued, grateful silence.
But Viserys's plan didn't end there. Kipp's burgeoning intelligence network at Dragon's Tooth, recovering from the earlier scares in Pentos and now operating with even greater caution, had already identified a bitter rival of the lecherous Ghiscari official – a member of another minor noble family, equally corrupt but currently out of favor. Viserys instructed Kipp to anonymously feed this rival damning (and entirely truthful) information about the official's various peculations and his "unseemly appetites," information gleaned from Ledger's initial reluctant dealings. Within weeks, the Ghiscari official found himself embroiled in a local scandal, his position precarious, his attention diverted far from Dragon's Tooth. He was now, Viserys knew, more likely to seek their discretion than to make further demands. The alchemical transmutation was complete: a pawn's degradation had been spun into a hero's honorable discharge, and a predator had been subtly leashed by his own vices.
Dragon's Tooth, thus fortified against internal rot and external predation, began to flourish, albeit discreetly. Ledger's legitimate trading front – exporting dates, olives, and surprisingly popular Ghiscari woven mats – provided a steady, if modest, stream of income and a perfect cover for Kipp's intelligence operations. Kipp, his network now extending into the slave pens of Yunkai and the garrisons of Meereen, began to send back truly invaluable information: detailed assessments of Unsullied troop deployments and training methods, whispers of growing discontent among certain factions of the Great Masters, patterns of Dothraki movement in the Lhazarine plains, and even fragmented, often contradictory, tales of ancient dragon lore still circulating among the oldest slave populations. Alistair Finch absorbed these reports with academic fervor; Viserys Targaryen filed them away as crucial pieces for his future campaigns.
Meanwhile, in the pirate-infested waters of the Basilisk Isles, Kiera "Redfin" was proving to be a formidable, if volatile, asset. Empowered by Viserys's regular shipments of Braavosi steel, Lyra of Lys's potent medical supplies (which had earned Kiera's crew the moniker "The Unkillables" among rival pirates after several miraculous recoveries from grievous wounds), and, most importantly, the pinpoint intelligence Viserys provided on vulnerable targets, Kiera's Sea Viper and her growing flotilla of allied corsairs had become a terror to her enemies. She launched a daring series of raids against Grolvo the Gut's operations, crippling his fleet, seizing his best ships, and eventually cornering the bloated pirate lord in his own supposedly impregnable island fortress. The fortress fell after a bloody two-day siege, a battle in which Kiera herself reportedly fought like a demon, her crimson-streaked hair a banner of bloody victory. Grolvo's head, pickled in brine, was rumored to have been sent as a "gift" to his few remaining allies, a clear message of Kiera's ascendancy.
She sent Viserys a lavish tribute via their established dead-drop: chests overflowing with gold from Grolvo's hoard, a selection of exquisite Valyrian steel daggers and arm-rings, and, most intriguingly, Grolvo's personal charts and ledgers, which detailed his own extensive network of informants and hidden caches throughout the Basilisks. Kiera Redfin was now a pirate queen in her own right, a significant power in her sector of the Isles.
This very success, however, brought its own challenges. Kiera, flush with victory and newfound power, began to test the boundaries of their pact. She launched an unauthorized raid on a Pentoshi merchantman that Viserys had, for strategic reasons related to Kipp's operations there, subtly indicated should be left untouched. The raid was successful, the plunder rich, but it caused Viserys considerable diplomatic headaches, forcing him to use Ferrego Antaryon's channels to discreetly compensate the Pentoshi merchant (through a complex series of shell transactions) to avoid drawing Illyrio's ire towards their Braavosi operations.
Viserys knew he had to rein Kiera in, to remind her that their alliance, while mutually beneficial, was not one of equals. He didn't resort to direct threats. Instead, he employed a more subtle form of leverage. The next scheduled shipment of Braavosi steel and Lyra of Lys's medical supplies to Kiera's hidden anchorage was "regrettably delayed" due to "unforeseen complications with Braavosi port authorities" (a fiction orchestrated by Archivist and Joss). Simultaneously, a particularly juicy piece of intelligence regarding a heavily laden treasure ship from Qarth, which Kiera had been eagerly anticipating, was "unfortunately compromised" before it could be relayed to her.
The message was clear. Kiera Redfin, for all her newfound power, was still dependent on Viserys's resources and information. After a week of fuming and increasingly desperate (and respectful) coded messages sent via Malacco, Kiera sent a lavish apology along with a solemn vow to adhere strictly to their agreed-upon protocols in the future. Viserys, his point made, allowed the "delayed" shipment to proceed. The Corsair Queen had been reminded who held the leash. It was a delicate dance of power, one Alistair Finch recognized from a thousand historical precedents of states sponsoring privateers.
Lyra of Lys, the quiet Chirurgeon, found her role within the Hidden Hand expanding beyond simply mending wounds. Viserys, intrigued by her deep knowledge of herbs and simples, tasked her with a new, clandestine project: the development of specialized alchemical compounds. He wasn't seeking gold from lead, but rather practical tools for their shadowy endeavors. He wanted fast-acting soporifics that could incapacitate without killing, irritant powders that could create diversions, antidotes to common Essosi poisons, and even subtle chemical markers that could be used to track individuals or goods. Lyra, her past in Lys hinted at a familiarity with arts beyond simple healing, undertook this research with a quiet, focused intensity in a secluded, well-ventilated section of the warehouse, her small laboratory slowly filling with alembics, crucibles, and the pungent aromas of exotic herbs and minerals. Viserys saw this as a form of "Alchemist's Mercy" – the ability to neutralize threats or achieve objectives with less collateral damage than a drawn blade, if circumstance allowed.
Daenerys, now a thoughtful girl of twelve, continued to be both Viserys's greatest joy and his most profound responsibility. Her dragon dreams intensified in their vividness and frequency. She spoke of soaring over vast, fiery landscapes, of conversing with immense, intelligent beasts whose voices resonated in her very bones, of ancient cities of black stone rising from volcanic plains. She began to instinctively sketch these visions, her charcoal drawings possessing an unnerving, almost primal power. Viserys, with the help of obscure Valyrian texts unearthed by Archivist, tried to guide her, teaching her breathing exercises to calm her mind after particularly disturbing dreams, encouraging her to see these visions not as curses, but as a unique connection to their lost heritage, a form_of "dragon sight." He began to tell her more about their Valyrian ancestors, not just the conquerors, but the mystics, the dragon-binders, the dreamers, hoping to provide her with a context and a sense of empowerment. He noted with a clinical interest that her intuition seemed to be sharpening; she sometimes seemed to know his mood before he spoke, or to sense when one of their household was troubled or unwell, a sensitivity that was both endearing and slightly unsettling.
The relative quiet on the Braavosi front, following the neutralization of House Prestayn, was not destined to last. A new, more sophisticated commercial rival began to emerge: the Gilded Lily Guild, a powerful consortium of merchants specializing in high-value luxury goods from across the known world – silks from Yi Ti, spices from the Jade Sea, wines from the Arbor, ivory from the Summer Isles. They were known for their impeccable taste, their vast wealth, and their deep connections within the Sealord's administration and even, it was rumored, with certain factions of the Faceless Men, whom they sometimes employed for "discreet negotiations." The Gilded Lily began to subtly encroach upon trade routes the Nyx had cultivated, their agents trying to undercut prices, poach suppliers, and glean information about the mysterious "Tyroshi patron" whose success was becoming a subject of much speculation in the more exclusive merchant circles.
Viserys knew the Gilded Lily was a far more dangerous adversary than the brutish Prestayns. They could not be intimidated by simple thuggery or financially crippled by exposing crude tax evasion. They were masters of the subtle game of influence and economic warfare. His response had to be equally nuanced. He tasked Archivist with a deep analysis of the Gilded Lily's structure, their key members, their dependencies, and their vulnerabilities. Shadowfoot's Sparrows were deployed to discreetly observe the Guild's prominent figures, seeking any hint of internal dissent, personal vices, or illicit dealings that could be exploited.
It was during a tense period of this undeclared commercial war with the Gilded Lily that Viserys was forced to use his own powers with a precision that surprised even himself. One of the Lily's most cunning agents, a woman renowned for her ability to extract information through charm and subterfuge, had managed to cultivate a minor clerk in Ferrego Antaryon's household, hoping to learn more about Ferrego's mysterious "Tyroshi advisor." This clerk, weak-willed and flattered by the agent's attentions, was on the verge of revealing potentially damaging (though still indirect) details about Joss Hood's role and the general nature of the "advisor's" operations. Viserys learned of this imminent betrayal through a frantic, coded message from one of his own Sparrows who had been watching the clerk.
There was no time for intermediaries. The Gilded Lily agent was due to meet the clerk that very evening in a secluded chamber within the Antaryon manse. Viserys, his face grim, knew he had to intervene personally. Disguised in the rough, homespun clothes of a serving boy, his silver hair ruthlessly dyed a mousy brown with a concoction from Lyra of Lys, he infiltrated the Antaryon manse during the bustle of the evening meal. His enhanced senses allowed him to navigate the unfamiliar corridors like a phantom, his agility and speed far beyond those of any normal boy. He located the meeting chamber. Using his claws, extended just a fraction to act as delicate lockpicks, he silently bypassed the door's mechanism.
Inside, the Lily agent was subtly plying the clerk with drugged wine. Viserys moved with the speed of a striking cobra. Before either could react, he delivered a precise, non-lethal nerve strike (a technique Alistair Finch recalled from obscure martial texts, which Viserys had painstakingly practiced) to the agent's neck, rendering her unconscious. The clerk, terrified, was about to scream when Viserys, his voice a low, chilling whisper, presented him with undeniable proof (prepared in advance by Archivist) of his own petty embezzlements from Ferrego, and offered him a simple choice: silence and continued, if now closely monitored, employment, or exposure and ruin. The clerk, naturally, chose silence. Viserys then retrieved every note the agent had made, replaced the drugged wine with an untainted bottle, and arranged the scene to appear as if the agent had simply succumbed to too much drink and passed out, her attempts to gather information fruitless. He was gone before anyone was the wiser, the only trace of his presence the lingering scent of fear in the clerk's mind. It was a masterful piece of covert intervention, his powers used not for brute force, but with the surgical precision of a master spy.
Kipp's efforts in Pentos, meanwhile, culminated in a stunning intelligence coup. He had managed, through an intricate web of informants and a daring piece of infiltration by one of his most trusted Pentoshi Sparrows (a girl as nimble and silent as Shadowfoot herself), to obtain copies of several pages from Magister Illyrio's private ledger – not his financial accounts, but his record of clandestine payments and communications with Varys in King's Landing. The ledger detailed shipments of gold, coded messages regarding Westerosi politics, and even contingency plans for smuggling individuals in and out of the Seven Kingdoms. Securing this prize, however, came at a terrible cost. Kipp's young Pentoshi Sparrow, though she managed to pass the copied pages to him before being caught, was taken by Illyrio's guards. Her fate was unknown, but presumed to be grim. The "Price of Pawns" had been paid again, this time in Pentos, and Kipp's subsequent report to Viserys was laced with a cold, hard fury that mirrored his own.
The intelligence, however, was priceless. It gave Viserys a direct window into the Varys-Illyrio conspiracy, confirming his suspicions and providing him with potential future leverage against two of the most powerful string-pullers in the known world. He now understood more clearly the game they were playing for a Targaryen restoration – though which Targaryen they backed, and to what ultimate end, remained shrouded in Illyrio's layers of deception.
News from Westeros continued to arrive in Braavos, detailing the final, brutal suppression of the Greyjoy Rebellion. Robert Baratheon, his throne secure once more, was said to be celebrating with characteristic excess, while Lord Stannis, the architect of the naval victory, returned to Dragonstone, his coffers undoubtedly depleted by the war effort. Viserys noted the simmering resentment reported from the Iron Islands, the heavy indemnities imposed, the destruction of their fleet. He instructed Archivist to begin a new file: "Project Iron Price" – a long-term plan to potentially cultivate or exploit Ironborn bitterness for his own future needs. An independent, skilled naval force, even one composed of reavers, could be an invaluable asset.
Viserys sat late in the Nexus, the captured pages from Illyrio's ledger spread before him. He had successfully navigated numerous threats, his organization was growing in strength and sophistication, his coffers were filling. He had even, in the case of Tymor, managed a form of "Alchemist's Mercy," transmuting a disastrous situation into a tolerable one. Yet, the taste of the Pentos fire, the loss of Kipp's young Sparrow, the cold necessity of his decision regarding the Ghiscari official – these things left a permanent residue, a hardening of his own soul. He was becoming a master of this dark game, his pieces moving with increasing confidence across the vast board of Essos. But he was also increasingly aware that true power, the kind needed to reclaim a kingdom, required more than just a hidden hand and unseen coin. It required a force that could, when the time came, step into the light, a banner under which men and women would willingly fight and die for his cause. The forging of that force, he knew, would be his next great undertaking. The shadows had served him well, but dragons were creatures of fire and blood, not of eternal twilight.