Chapter 117: The Mighty Belwas
"Four?" Steward Mills countered.
"Magister Godin Haucot of the Braavosi faction, Magister Cecito Morn, Magister Glairo Tetrus, and Magister Percy Rotalus of the Volantene faction." Ian's memory was excellent; he rattled off their names.
"Oh no," Mills shook his head. "Magister Percy Rotalus isn't a member of the Volantene faction. He only supports the war against Braavos, but he hasn't accepted any 'funding' from either side."
"Then why would he support the war against Braavos?" Ian asked curiously. Besides personal gain, Ian couldn't think of any other reason.
"Because his honor as a soldier, and the honor of House Rotalus as a long-established military noble house of Pentos, wouldn't allow him to 'fear battle.'"
"Military noble house?" Ian discovered another new term. "If I remember correctly, according to the agreement between Pentos and Braavos, Pentos cannot possess more weapons than the city guard. So why would Pentos have so-called 'military nobles'?"
"House Rotalus has a seven-hundred-year history. Of course, that might not mean much to you Westerosi."
Indeed. House Frey, with an eight-hundred-year history, is considered nouveau riche, and House Darry has a six-thousand-year history, Ian thought to himself.
"But in Pentos, they are the oldest house, and for the past few centuries, nearly a third of Pentos's military commanders have come from House Rotalus. And the current commander-in-chief of the Pentoshi city guard is none other than Magister Percy Rotalus himself," Mills continued to explain.
"Let a magister oversee the defense of Pentos?" Ian asked, somewhat surprised. "Are you sure you can trust him?"
"House Rotalus respects tradition and has always been a staunch defender of the Pentoshi council system. Furthermore, former Magister Percy Rotalus himself is a just, upright, and highly respected elder. Everyone is at ease with him commanding the Pentoshi city guard, including Magister Illyrio," Mills emphasized at the end.
"How many men are in the Pentoshi city guard?" Ian asked after a moment's thought.
"Theoretically, it's six thousand."
"Theoretically?"
"Because Pentos can only maintain a city guard, all our armed forces are counted as part of the city guard."
"…"
"This isn't about exploiting a loophole," Mills explained, seeing Ian's meaningful expression. "You have to understand, Pentos is a city with over five hundred thousand inhabitants, and the surrounding territories have another three and a half to five million people. A city guard of six thousand isn't excessive, and the Braavosi don't object."
"That's true," Ian nodded. "Then why do you call it 'theoretically'?"
"Because during the long period of peace that followed, the Magisters' Council found that maintaining such a standing force was unnecessary, so the city guard was gradually reduced to two thousand men over the next few decades.
These two thousand men were divided into four banner companies, with the First Banner having eight hundred men, personally commanded by Magister Percy Rotalus. The other three banner companies belonged to the Braavosi faction, the Volantene faction, and our people, respectively."
No wonder the original text mentions that the magisters of Pentos doubled the size of the city guard before Khal Drogo arrived in Pentos without any objection from Braavos; it turns out that Pentos's own military strength was already far below the size stipulated in the agreement, Ian thought.
"Is this all the military strength Pentos has?" Ian asked.
"No," Mills shook his head. "According to the agreement, we still have a considerable number of conscription slots, and these slots cannot be wasted."
"So?"
"The Magisters' Council allocated two hundred of the remaining four thousand slots to each of the seven magisters, allowing them to maintain their own household guards within the city. The remaining slots were all sold off.
You know, the nobles of Pentos own vast tracts of land outside the city, which undoubtedly need protection and order. However, the nobles' private armies are considered Pentoshi armed forces by the Braavosi, so their soldiers all need to occupy 'city guard' slots."
No wonder you're a 'free trade city,' you can trade anything!
"So, how many slots did those three magisters buy?" Ian asked immediately, referring, of course, to several key figures from the Braavosi and Volantene factions.
"More than half."
Seriously?
"But don't worry, their forces aren't even in Pentos proper. Besides Magister Cecito Morn, the other two magisters have fewer than a hundred household guards in the city."
"Actually, a hundred or a thousand makes no difference to me; they can't openly attack me anyway." Ian shrugged. "I only need to be wary of assassins."
"With me here, no one can touch you." A voice suddenly rang out.
Ian looked in the direction of the voice and saw a large, dark-skinned eunuch who seemed to have just entered.
The man was massive, his arms as thick as tree trunks. His upper body was bare, revealing scars covering his chest and stomach, and a very long arakh hung at his waist.
"This is Strong Belwas, the sellsword Magister Illyrio has assigned to you," Steward Mills immediately introduced.
Sellsword? Ian had to suppress a smile. Well, Magister Illyrio indeed never got involved in the slave trade.
Strong Belwas! Ian remembered this man—an elite pit fighter who fought his way up from the fighting pits of Meereen, eventually ending up in Pentos before being bought by Illyrio.
In the original story, he and Barristan the Bold were sent by Illyrio to Daenerys, who was still in Qarth.
This man had nearly toyed with and killed Meereen's champions at the gates of Meereen (the TV series grafted this plot onto the leader of the Second Sons). After Daenerys conquered Meereen, he became a member of her Queensguard, proving his undeniable strength.
"Strong Belwas has never lost a fight, Andal," Belwas addressed Ian, noticing his gaze. "Every time Strong Belwas defeats his opponent, he gives him one free cut," he said, patting his belly. "Strong Belwas is still here."
"With Strong Belwas here, no one can hurt you," he added.
"I believe you, my friend," Ian nodded politely. "I feel safe with you here."
Strong Belwas beamed.
"Very well, then this is the last one," Mills pointed to the boy next to Belwas, who was barely taller than his armpit. "His name is Quhuru, and he can find out a great deal for you."
Ian nodded again; he knew this must be the leader of Illyrio's mice. Like Varys's little birds, the intelligence network of Westeros's Master of Whisperers, Illyrio's mice were mostly composed of these wandering orphans.
(End of Chapter)