"You don't understand!"
Illyrio looked as though he had been stabbed in an open wound, his voice growing even more unhinged.
"Aegon was chosen by the gods! He is the Prince foretold in prophecy!"
At that, the amusement on Lo Quen's face only deepened.
It sounded like a joke to him.
"Chosen by the gods? If that's true, then the god who chose him must have been a blind idiot."
Those words completely ignited Illyrio's fury.
He was almost screaming now.
"Varys told me that when he was young, he was captured by an evil sorcerer… During his castration, in unbearable agony, he heard the whispers of the gods in the flames! He saw the prophecy!
"Blackfyre will replace the Targaryens and bring true peace and prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms! He later came to me, bringing Serra with him… We planned for decades to fulfill this sacred prophecy! You are defying the will of the gods! You will be punished for it!"
Lo Quen looked at the man before him, now raving like a madman, and felt nothing but weariness and a touch of pity.
Another fool led astray by Varys's silver tongue.
Did he truly not know that almost nothing that spider said was the truth?
Or had he been so completely bewitched by that woman, Serra, that he believed every word Varys spoke?
Lo Quen waved his hand in irritation.
"Enough, Magister Illyrio. Not only am I defying your god, I'm about to send you to meet your god in person. Guards."
Two Dragon Soul Guards immediately pushed the doors open and strode forward in heavy, synchronized steps, seizing Illyrio by the arms from either side.
The moment he heard the words "send you to meet your god," it was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over Illyrio's head. The madness drained from him in an instant.
He began struggling wildly, his voice turning shrill.
"No! Don't kill me! Your Grace! I beg you! Please don't kill me!"
Lo Quen let out a cold laugh.
"Oh? Illyrio, weren't you just moments ago so impassioned and ready to die? What happened now? Has your courage disappeared along with your fat? Afraid of death?"
"I have information! Important information!"
Illyrio clung to this final lifeline, shouting in a panic.
"Spare me! I'll trade my information for my life!"
Lo Quen raised an eyebrow, his first thought drifting to the dragon egg fossils.
"Information? You're not about to tell me you've hidden dragon egg fossils somewhere, are you? Don't bother. No matter where you hid them, I have more than enough time and manpower to find them. I don't need your help."
He truly had little interest in those fossils.
With his own power continuing to grow, and with living dragons that would eventually breed and lay eggs, those relics had lost much of their value.
Illyrio froze, shock flashing through his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected Lo Quen to know about the dragon eggs at all. He shook his head frantically.
"Not dragon eggs! Not that! I already gave the last two dragon eggs to the Faceless Men as payment for assassinating you!"
Lo Quen's gaze sharpened instantly.
"So it was you who hired the Faceless Men to kill me?"
He had long suspected as much, but hearing the confession directly was different.
Illyrio looked as though he had nothing left to lose and hurried on.
"It was me! But… but not all of the Faceless Men died in the fire and chaos in Braavos. Some survived and later came to me, demanding ships to take them away from the west. I agreed, but… but I bribed a sailor aboard one of the ships and learned their destination was Asshai!"
"The Faceless Men went to Asshai?"
Lo Quen frowned. That was genuinely unexpected.
What business would those mysterious assassins have at the very edge of the world?
Illyrio nodded desperately, spilling everything he knew in a bid to stay alive.
"Yes! And they didn't just take my two dragon eggs. I heard… I heard they had another one as well. No one knows who gave it to them, but it definitely wasn't me."
Lo Quen's thoughts stirred.
If it wasn't Illyrio, then who else possessed dragon egg fossils and had dealings with the Faceless Men?
A single name immediately surfaced in his mind.
Euron Greyjoy!
It matched his suspicions perfectly. It was very likely Euron who had used a dragon egg fossil as payment to hire the Faceless Men to kill Balon.
Illyrio stared at Lo Quen, who had fallen into thought, his eyes filled with desperate pleading.
"Your Grace, I've told you everything I know. Everything, without holding anything back. Now… now you can spare my life, can't you?"
Lo Quen came back to himself and looked at Illyrio's face, twisted by the will to survive. A cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Everything? True enough. You also confessed to the grave crime of hiring the Faceless Men to assassinate me. That alone is more than enough to earn you death."
He gave Illyrio no further chance and waved to the Dragon Soul Guards.
"Take him away and execute him. Hang his head on a spear at the city gate for three days as a warning."
"No—!!!"
Illyrio let out a howl of utter despair as two Dragon Soul Guards, far stronger than any ordinary men, dragged him out of the hall like a dead dog. His shrill begging and curses echoed down the corridor, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished completely.
Lo Quen returned to the throne, his brow slightly furrowed.
The Faceless Men had gone to Asshai, carrying three dragon egg fossils?
What was their goal?
He searched his memories from his previous life for any clue, but found nothing.
Instead, an old legend about the origins of the Faceless Men surfaced in his mind.
It was said that they originated from slave miners beneath the volcanoes of Valyria. In their endless suffering, they cried out to hundreds of different gods for salvation, only to realize in the end that they had been praying to the same god all along.
"The same god?"
Lo Quen murmured, his heart jolting.
If there truly was a single, unified source that transcended countless names, then it was very likely… the unknown existence or power represented by the black stones from beyond the sky.
Could it be that the ancestors of the Faceless Men, deep within the Valyrian mines, had inadvertently touched upon the secret of the black stones, or sensed the will behind them?
The thought sent a chill through him.
Setting aside these speculations that could not yet be verified, he rose and stepped onto the balcony connected to the main hall.
The sea wind rushed toward him, lifting his black hair.
He gazed at the dark, brooding sky over the Narrow Sea, as if it held endless storms, and let his eyes drift toward the eastern horizon.
Pentos and Norvos had fallen. The Faceless Men had taken dragon eggs to Asshai. The followers of the Lord of Light had returned east. The threat of the Cold God might have shifted as well. Jon's whereabouts…
"It seems I must set out soon," he murmured, a trace of resolve flashing in his eyes.
A month later, Storm's End welcomed a victorious army.
Roro and Morosh returned at the head of the forces sent against the Iron Islands, bringing news of their complete pacification.
In the hall, Roro reported to Lo Quen.
"Your Grace, in accordance with your orders, we have carried out a thorough purge of the Iron Islands. All noble houses that openly resisted or had records of rebellion, great or small, have been wiped out. Their castles have been seized, and their sigils abolished."
Morosh followed up.
"As for the remaining Ironborn who ultimately laid down their arms and begged for mercy, they have all been shackled as you instructed and escorted by the fleet to Moat Cailin. There, they will be put to work reinforcing the defenses, spending the rest of their lives atoning in the frozen swamps."
One could easily imagine how miserable those Ironborn, accustomed to the sea and to plunder, would be in the bitter cold of the Neck.
Lo Quen was quite satisfied with the outcome.
"Well done. Pirates only learn their lesson through iron and blood. They believe that taking by force is better than hard labor, so they must be prepared to be utterly crushed by a stronger power. The downfall of the Ironborn is the just retribution for the sins they have accumulated over generations."
He turned to Morosh and issued another order.
"Morosh, there is one more task for you. Coordinate the transport of another group of Yi Ti immigrants. The number need not be large. Settle them on the main islands of the Iron Islands.
"Grant them land and fishing grounds. Encourage farming and husbandry. Change a way of life that relies solely on plunder. Make sure the Iron Islands can sustain themselves in the future, and that a lack of resources will never again give rise to pirates."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Morosh bowed and accepted the order.
He understood Lo Quen's intent. This was not just about replenishing the population, but about fundamentally transforming the Iron Islands, erasing the cultural roots of the Ironborn way of life.
With the Iron Islands subdued, the last uncontrolled armed force within Westeros had been eliminated.
Lo Quen's rule now fully encompassed this land scarred by endless war.
The day he would depart for the east was drawing close.