For the first time, the Eastern Empire stood recognized not only by its people but by the greatest city of Essos. Braavos had chosen to ally with the Dragon Empress.
And so the empire gained not only land and law but legitimacy.
…
The Closest Confidant of the Dragon Empress
Illyrio Mopatis lounged in the chamber assigned to him. The walls had been cleaned and hung with new banners, though the smell of incense still lingered faintly from its old days under the masters. A low table sat before him, filled with platters of fruit, roasted lamb, and golden cups of rich Meereenese wine. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, his thick fingers glistening with fat.
A knock came at the door. He called out without rising. "Enter."
The door opened. Missandei stepped in. Her Unsullied guards remained outside. She wore a pitch-black dress, simple but sharp, its sleeves long down her arms. A golden dragon pin gleamed at her chest — the mark of her office. She moved with calm precision, neither hurried nor hesitant.
"Magister Mopatis," she said softly. "The Empress sends her regards."
Illyrio rose clumsily, his silks shifting. He bowed, not too deeply. "And she sends her most trusted hand instead of herself. A wise choice. Please, sit. Drink. Eat. The cooks here have improved since the days of the masters."
Missandei took her seat across from him, folding her hands neatly on the table. She refused the wine at first, then accepted a small cup out of courtesy. "You find the Eastern Empire pleasing, then?"
Illyrio smiled, showing yellowed teeth. "Pleasing, yes. Surprising, more so. When I heard the girl had risen with dragons, I did not expect… this." He gestured vaguely around the room. "Order, law, pomp. She has done in months what many could not in years."
Missandei tilted her head slightly. "And what do you think of it? Beyond surprise."
"Profitable," Illyrio said at once. "Freedom tastes sweet, but it does not pay for ships or swords. Yet here, the freed are working, building, spending. Trade will rise. That makes this empire worth watching."
Missandei smiled faintly. "Your thoughts echo those of many in Pentos, I imagine."
Illyrio chuckled. "In Pentos, thoughts change with the wind. But yes. Many are curious. Some are nervous. A few are hopeful. That is why I am here."
The conversation shifted easily into talk of food and wine. Missandei asked him about the trade in Pentos. Illyrio boasted of cellars filled with rare vintages, of oils and perfumes that traveled from east to west. Missandei responded with mention of the grass sea's cattle, of Meereen's silk, of spices grown now under freed hands. She spoke smoothly, never too eager, always listening.
At one point, she leaned forward slightly. "Perhaps, Magister, there will be room for exchange. Pentos' wines and oils for our silk and processed goods. Both sides would gain."
Illyrio nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes. This is why I wished to speak with the Khaleesi. She has power. I have coins. Together—"
"She is Empress now," Missandei interrupted gently.
Illyrio's eyes flickered, then he smiled again. "Of course. Empress. Titles change, but strength remains."
Missandei let the pause linger before she changed the subject. "You are curious about her rise, are you not?"
Illyrio leaned back, stroking his beard. "Who would not be? A girl with no armies, no allies, suddenly commands dragons and forty thousand riders. Tell me — how?"
Missandei recalled Daenerys' instructions. She kept her tone light, almost conversational. "It began after the death of her brother. He was weak, but still her kin. She asked the khal to grant him a funeral pyre. She stepped into the flames with her dragon eggs. She walked out unburnt. The Dothraki respect strength. They bowed. From there, she ruled."
Illyrio's eyes narrowed slightly, though he smiled. "A story fit for songs. And now she commands fire itself?"
Missandei's gaze was steady. "She does not hide what she can do. But she does not speak of Westeros. Her focus is here."
Illyrio chuckled again, though his voice was softer. "Strange. A Targaryen with no wish to claim the Iron Throne? Hard to believe."
"She wishes to build here," Missandei said simply. "Though she does have interest in one thing from Westeros."
Illyrio raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
"Dragonstone," Missandei answered. "The stone has meaning to her. That is all she has said."
Illyrio took a slow sip of wine, watching her carefully. "Interesting."
Missandei let the silence stretch before she leaned forward. "Magister, may I ask a name? Do you know a man called Varys?"
Illyrio's smile faltered for the first time. His fingers tightened slightly around the cup. "Varys. The Spider. Why do you ask?"
"The Empress mentioned hearing of him," Missandei said calmly. "A man who weaves webs across kingdoms. If he is real, and if he is tied to Pentos, she wishes to know."
Illyrio laughed, but it was forced. "Rumors. Varys is a creature of Westeros. Whispers and shadows. I have dealt with merchants, not spiders."
Missandei's eyes stayed on him, unblinking. "Of course. Yet his name lingers. Strange, don't you think?"
Illyrio shifted in his chair, then reached for more meat. "Names linger everywhere. Daenerys, Stormborn, Dragon. The world loves names. What matters is coin, trade, stability."
Missandei smiled politely, but in her mind she noted the truth. He had not denied knowing the man. Only shifted the words.
They spoke for another hour. Trade routes, ships, tariffs. Missandei guided the talk with care, offering just enough to keep him speaking while never showing all her hand. Illyrio boasted often, but each boast gave away a piece. His loyalty was not to coin alone. His interest in her story, his reaction to the name of Varys — all confirmed what Daenerys had suspected.
At last, Missandei rose. "Magister, thank you for your time. The Empress will decide on future agreements with Pentos. For tonight, rest well."
Illyrio rose slowly, bowing again. "Of course. You play your part well, Missandei. Perhaps too well."
Missandei inclined her head and left, her guards falling into step as she walked back through the quiet halls. In her thoughts, the conclusion was clear. Illyrio Mopatis was tied to Varys. His motives were not only profit. He was a man with old loyalties and deeper plans.
She would report it all to Daenerys before dawn.
…
Next chapter: The closest confidant of the Dragon Empress