The Young Magister

Illyrio Mopatis knew he would come to regret this meeting. His business ventures had been fruitful enough that he'd been able to avoid having to meet with anyone from the Iron Bank of Braavos in years – even through the last winter. Yet, his success was the very reason he found himself here today. For he was not here to discuss usual matters such as terms of loan repayment, but matters of state of the utmost import. He was here to discuss the displacement of a king.

The young magister gulped slightly as he took his seat in the chambers of the offices of the Grand Chancellor of the Iron Bank of Braavos. The room was so finely furnished, it put even his own estate to shame. All around the walls were gilded tapestries of silk so fine it looked as if you could put your hand right through the fabric. There were three chandeliers, each comprised of well over a hundred small candles. The tables were carved in elegant designs, with each leg marvelously crafted in the shape of an animal of enchantment for men from all lands; on one a dragon, another a harpy, on another an animal that could have been a bear or a direwolf depending on how you looked at it, and lastly an elephant. The table was so finely carved that he could scarce believe it when a serving girl set a glass of wine down on it. He would have assumed it were meant only to look, and not for casual use.

It was only then that he noticed that the chandelier in the middle of the room had but one candle burning, a dark glass candle. Magister Illyrio stared absently at it for several seconds. He knew what it meant, but how could it be?

A voice came from the curtains behind the desk at the head of the room, as two figures emerged. "I know that you know what that candle means, my noble magister." It was the shorter and younger of the two. His head was bald and he walked with his hands in his sleeves, as if something was hidden up there. Despite his humble appearance, his eyes were fierce with excitement.

The other, much older gentleman Illyrio recognized as the Chancellor of the Iron Bank, Peruvius Malm. He stood, out of respect, as soon as he recognized him, but the Chancellor motioned for him to sit as he took his own seat behind the elegantly carved desk at the head of the room. He did not say anything. Illyrio had heard that was his way. When it came to the Iron Bank, there was no need for words. Words could not pay back a debt, make a debtor whole again. It was the chancellor's job to make sure all transactions went smoothly, and words were not nearly as effective as the Chancellor's iron stare, or the damage that could be done with the stroke of his pen.

But Magister Illyrio had no debts to pay, and he was not afraid, so he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. He said, "I have heard what it means, but the candle has not burned for hundreds of years. Why would it burn now?"

The younger one responded. "Our world is about to be tested, according to the prophecies. The glass candle burns when the dead walk. The dead walk when life dies. Life dies when men lose hope." The stranger paused, walking slowly around to the side of the desk. "Men lose hope when they see good, honest men suffer for no reason. When evil men use their power to control others and rule with fear, men lose hope. When stupid men are in control, and others have to work harder just to feed their families, men lose hope. When the weakest of us – cripples, women and children – are forced to become monsters in order to survive, men lose hope." The stranger gave him an inquisitive look. "When men lose hope, the dead begin to walk, and the glass candles begin to burn. When the candles burn, winter comes and does not end." The younger one started to walk around the desk now, toward him, as he spoke. "There must be hope in the world or else the candles will continue to burn forever, and all will be consumed. The winter that never ends, my dear magister. Or so the prophecies suggest." And a silver serpent will reign over them. Illyrio remembered that child's tale. The stranger was still giving him that same inquisitive look, as if wondering if he'd be swayed by the power of stories and trickery with glass candles.

He wasn't, though. The young magister was impressed, but only with the dramatic flair of the bald stranger and his stories, on the backdrop of one of the most elegant rooms Illyrio had ever seen, than with the supposed danger they were facing. He was about to stand and applaud mockingly when the Chancellor spoke. "Magister Illyrio, grave days and nights are upon us. This candle has never burned during my lifetime. I believe it is the mad king Aerys across the Narrow Sea that causes it to burn now. He will bring evil down upon us all." He paused, rubbing his lips together, perhaps wetting them, then continued. "I wish to see this candle go out before my time in this office is done, and for that it is important that we all understand what is at stake." Illyrio understood the power of the look now. The Chancellor's grey-silver eyes felt as if they were piercing deep into Illyrio's soul.

He remained seated. He understood that the candle was a bad sign, but he did not see how it affected him. Aerys was king in the west. The dead walk in the west, far across the Narrow Sea. Still, he asked, "Ok gentlemen, you have my attention. What does this all have to do with us?"

The Chancellor sat back in his chair and looked at the stranger. A small smile crept to the corner of his lips, as though he'd been waiting for the question. He responded. "Magister Illyrio, I understand your hesitation to feel any sort of involvement in this, as it is well known that the dead walk in the lands of perpetual winter across the Narrow Sea. But I assure you, these problems will reach you. Aerys is destroying his kingdom, and he will drag the rest of the world down with it. He raises taxes until men cannot pay, then punishes them with death and even higher taxes. He burns noble men and boys with wildfire. His land cannot maintain itself economically in such chaos. Trade will suffer." He stopped talking then and regarded the magister.

Illyrio was beginning to see how this affected him.

The stranger continued. "The prophecies say that the world will be thrown into chaos when the blind silver serpent controls us. Because of the timing of the candles and the latest news from Westeros, we believe that Aerys is that blind silver serpent." He paused.

The Chancellor, noticing that talk of serpents was not having the effect they'd hoped, spoke again. "The Iron Throne has not paid its debts in almost two years. It is the first time in over a thousand years that the Targaryens have failed to make good. With war on the horizon, we don't expect to see any of that money until after the next winter, and we'll be forced to seize cargos from Westeros until we can recover our losses, which will be years." He paused. Illyrio was listening now. "Magister, a shipper such as yourself would stand to lose forty percent of your business by the time the next winter comes, and sixty or seventy when it is over." He was staring intently at him. Illyrio knew he was right. "The Iron Bank of Braavos has been around for thousands of years. It has survived great kings and terrible kings. Almost ninety percent of the gold that pays for all the shipping to and from Westeros flows through this bank. It thrives when men want to expand their farms, hire shipbuilders and build castles." His stare was intense. Illyrio gulped again. "The wisdom of the Iron Bank exceeds all known cultures from Westeros to beyond the shadowlands. We here are concerned about this on a level that we've never known before. Something must be done to help stabilize the western world." Illyrio knew what was coming next. "Thankfully we have a variety of tools at our disposal. In this case, that means supporting a smooth regime change abroad."

"Why do you need me for any of this?" Illyrio realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat. He forced himself to sit back, casually reach out and take a sip of his wine.

The stranger picked up. "The way things are, it looks as though the Targaryens will not remain in power much longer. However, Lord Robert Baratheon, the contender for the Iron Throne, is not someone we can rely on to build trust in his people, which is what we need to ensure a comfortable future for all. Robert will run the kingdom no better than Aerys, and will try to cut outside trade through heavy taxation. He will not be friendly to us, should he have ultimate power in the Seven Kingdoms. We fear that Lord Robert does not have what is needed to put out the glass candles. Unfortunately, we may have no choice about this, as the situation stands."

"So what is the preferred outcome?"

"The preferred outcome is for Aerys to perish and for his son Rhaegar to take his place, eventually." Illyrio noticed that last seemed a bit difficult for the stranger.

"Eventually?" Illyrio's eyebrow pricked up a bit. "That sounds… complicated."

"As all good things are, my dear magister. Rhaegar Targaryen has what it takes to be a great ruler, a friend to the people, both noble and smallfolk alike, and the wealthy merchant class as well. But near three hundred years of absolute power has corrupted him, as it does all who grow up in that castle. We will install Lord Robert as Lord Protector of the Realm temporarily. Rhaegar and his family will leave Westeros and come here where they will be safe and Rhaegar can begin his instruction. He must needs learn what it means to be human before he takes the throne. Pride makes all Targaryens blind to the err of their ways and the discontent they sow, but stepping away from that pride will help him see what he needs to see. There can be no more behaviors that destabilize the health of the realm and its people. No more incestuous marriages that are cursed by the Gods and keep other noble blood away, no more mysterious visitors in the night suddenly raised up to Kingsguard and granted lands that are entitled to other men, no more use of wildfire anywhere, for any reason. We have a septon here that believes that he can help Rhaegar. He was once a rich man, lavishing in gold and fine foods and women. He believes he can help him understand how power corrupts, but how a pure heart can overcome this corruption and do great things. The sparrow has great knowledge of these things, and he is a very wise man, although he is still new to the faith. Only once Rhaegar has proven that he will not let his own dragons destroy him, as they have Aerys, will he return and be raised to the Iron Throne. Lord Robert will, of course, profit handsomely from all of this, and the realm will enjoy an unbroken legacy of succession, with the necessary interventions, of course."

The magister stared. "And you think he will agree to this?"

The stranger looked away as he responded. "Sadly, no. Rhaegar is a beautiful soul and I have no doubt that he is capable of learning to be a great king, someday." He looked back at Illyrio. "However, he has been a Targaryen so long that he does not know how to set his pride down. I fear very much that he will not willingly set his sword down while breath still flows through his lips. The blood of the dragon is in him, and as such, he will die for his honor as a Targaryen, even though he must know that his family's honor is already tarnished." He looked back at Illyrio. His eyes were noticeably solemn now. He continued, "I would like that not to happen, if possible, but it is very unlikely."

Illyrio sat in silence for a moment. Finally, he asked again, "So what do you want from me?"

"We will make sure that there is only one of two outcomes. One is the ideal solution. Rhaegar surrenders himself, his wife, children, and siblings to us and agrees to our demands, we house them safely in Pentos, and we help make sure that Robert rises to Lord Protector of the realm, but no higher. Rhaegar will take over, with the full support of the Iron Bank of Braavos and its many powerful noble Westerosi friends, once he has spent time with the sparrow and been cured of his evil and dangerous ways." He paused. His tone lowered a bit. "The other, more likely scenario, is that Rhaegar and Aerys will die. When that happens, we want Rhaegar's wife Elia of Dorne, their children, and Rhaegar's siblings safely housed in Pentos. Robert will take the throne, and there is nothing we can do but hope for the best. At the very least we'll be able to expect peace which means the continuation of trade and the beginning of repayment of some of our loans. If Robert proves to be a stronger business leader than we think, the children will still be valuable, one way or another. The woman can be ransomed back to Dorne. If Robert is as unreliable as we fear, then we will have several trueborn Targaryens to challenge his rule someday."

Illyrio understood now. "And when you say in Pentos, you mean with me?"

"Indeed." The stranger had relaxed a bit, leaning slightly on the edge of the desk.

Illyrio was silent. He was well aware of the risks that the mad king had brought to his industry. He is throwing his kingdom and his economy into such chaos, it is awakening ancient evils. The thought struck him. He did not believe in such fantasy and nonsense. Did he? He looked to the Chancellor. He was sitting back in his chair, also comfortably. Illyrio took another sip of wine. Finally, Illyrio spoke. "What will be my compensation for such a risky and long-term commitment, I wonder?"

The Chancellor sat up and rubbed his chin. "Our many friends will supply you with foods and wines, delicacies from all ends of the world. There will be ample supply for you to feed yourself and your guests, as well as to add several hundred barrels to your ships for export. Of course, the shipments will continue even when your guests move to another host for a time, which they will. We will supply you with more exact numbers in due time, but I assure you the value of these goods will be great. And you will not lack for fine foods or wines ever again, my friend."

Illyrio smiled a bit. He was not fat, but he did enjoy a fine meal. This was all very intriguing. After a time, he responded. "Dear gentle sers, this is all very interesting, and concerning as well. I must needs check with some of my dear councilors and friends, to confirm some of these troublesome things you say." He looked at the Chancellor, his eyes a bit wide. The Chancellor gave him a slight nod though, so he continued. "Should all of this turn out to be true, I will gladly offer my services and will gladly receive your offer, in the name of the greatness of the Free Cities." He hesitated. "Might I take some numbers with me to help me decide?"

The Chancellor looked at the stranger and nodded, who then spoke. "Of course, my dear magister. You'll be provided with a thorough list of suppliers and the offerings each is willing to contribute to the cause. I know you'll find there are some find quality merchants with some rare and expensive goods to put on the table. Many will be very gracious for your support."

Illyrio nodded. Sensing there was no more to be said, he stood. The Chancellor stood as well, and offered him the Old Valyrian formal bow of grace. It was an impressive touch. Only once before had anyone offered Illyrio the bow, on the day of his graduation to magister. Illyrio returned the bow. The Chancellor nearly let out a hint of a smile, it seemed to Illyrio. Does he already know what my answer is going to be? Illyrio wondered to himself.

The stranger escorted him away and through the large marble archway on the side of the room, out into a hallway. Feeling as though some of the formality was done, Illyrio found himself asking the stranger. "My friend, I noticed that you seem to care much for this Targaryen prince? Why is that? It seems easier if he were gone, like the rest of them."

The stranger was silent. His eyes betrayed something personal. He sat on the edge of the elegantly carved desk. "Rhaegar is an exceptional soul," he responded. "Since you're going to so personal, Magister Illyrio, I might as well tell you who I am. My name is Varys. I hail from Myr, for what it's worth, although if I've done my job well you'll never meet someone there who knows me. I serve those who serve people."

Illyrio stared, unblinking. Was he supposed to be impressed?

Varys continued. "Within the realm of all men, women and children are both good and bad souls. King Aerys is a bad soul. Many who align with him are bad souls." He paused, looking away again. "Rhaegar Targaryen is a good soul." He continued to look away. His voice was thick with emotion. "I first met Rhaegar when I was but a young child, having only recently learned about the evils in the hearts of men. I was a scared young boy, and Prince Rhaegar was kind to me. He offered to play his harp for our troupe in the city when I was a child. We had lost our musician to a horrible plague, and the show was in danger of falling apart. The young prince, all of ten years at most, came forward and offered to play the show. He'd seen it several times, and knew all the notes." Varys wiped a tear away. "He played thrice with us until his father found out about it. The mad king must have believed it beneath them to play with a simple mummer's troupe from Essos. One day Rhaegar played for us, the next day three knights appeared and destroyed our stage and props and told us to leave the city immediately." Varys paused again. "On our way out of town, I saw Rhaegar by the side of the road. His eyes were raw with grief. He waved to me and offered the best smile that I think he could, considering he knew that he was responsible for our raw fortune at the hands of his father. I will always remember that smile. I think I needed that smile. I took that smile and used it to inspire me to keep going." He stopped walking. They'd reached the front door of the bank at the top of the great staircase down to the ground. Varys continued. "When I returned to King's Landing later, as a councilor of sorts." He paused very briefly. "Rhaegar didn't remember me, but I remembered him. I saw what that mad man had done to that poor beautiful soul that Rhaegar the child had been. The young man I came to know later was a shell of what he once was." A second tear appeared. He ignored it. "Except when he played his harp. Then, you could see the beautiful soul in him, the ancient Targaryen beauty that was spoken of far and wide, yet seen by so few." Varys looked around him, then back at Illyrio again. "My dear magister, we do thank you so very much for your time. Here is the information that we promised you. As we said, you'll find these numbers to be quite ample, should you be true to your obligations." He handed him a rolled hempen parchment, sealed with the stamp of the Iron Bank of Braavos. Varys continued. "I do think that things will be happening rather fast now. Robert and Rhaegar will meet soon on the Trident. Rhaegar has received our terms. He must release all of his hostages and surrender himself and his family to Dragonstone. If he does not, he will die along with Aerys, and Robert will usurp the throne. We will send word days ahead of us when we depart Dragonstone, assuming there are some that can get away." His tone betrayed a slight sadness that his eyes and mouth did not. Still, Illyrio could sense the sincerity. "And now, my friend, I must bid you ado."

There was only one more thing to say. "For the glory of the Free Cities." He spoke the formal greeting of Old Valyria.

Varys responded. "For the glory of us all." Illyrio turned and made his way down the stairs, reading the parchment as he walked. Arbor golds and Ghiscari sausages. He let out a big smile as he walked his large, but still agile, frame down the many steps of Iron Bank. This should be a very fruitful endeavor.