Though the bell signifying the start of the meeting had already rung, silence still lingered in the room. It was as if everyone was engaged in a waiting game, each person watching the others to see who would be the first to speak. The atmosphere was tense and so were the people attending the meeting.
Technically, the meeting had representatives from seven of the nine Free Cities. Except for Braavos and Volantis, every city had sent at least one delegate.
It was assumed that since Volantis was the city closest to Lord Aeos' growing empire, it did not have much time or freedom to involve itself in such plots. The only option left for Volantis was a direct confrontation. And almost everyone hoped for Lord Aeos to attack Volantis. Volantis was a large and powerful city and even if it could not defeat Lord Aeos, the confrontation would surely weaken his army making their jobs a bit easier.
Braavos, on the other hand, had responded with characteristic arrogance.
They did not see Lord Aeos as any great threat. In their pride, they had sent word that, should this campaign require funding, they would be willing to provide it or, more precisely, help secure a loan from the Iron Bank at a reduced interest rate. Anyway, they did not enjoy a good relationship with the other free cities. Unlike other free cities, they hated slavery and it was the only city where slavery was illegal. And they hoped or wanted that rest of the cities follow suit.
Of the eight Free Cities represented, only four Lys, Myr, Pentos, and Tyrosh had sent true representatives. The remaining three, Lorath, Qohor, and Norvos had merely sent symbolic figureheads, men with no real power or authority.
Finally, one of the men rose to his feet. He was a magister from Lys.
"I think," he began, breaking the silence and effectively starting the meeting, "I do not need to describe or emphasize the grave danger our cities are facing. It is true that there are many cities across Essos, but it is a known fact that the nine Free Cities are the most powerful, most prosperous, most progressive, and richest cities on the continent."
"Lord Aeos, originally Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark of Winterfell has not announced which city he intends to attack first. But we do not need to be geniuses to guess. In all likelihood, his target, after consolidating his three city kingdom and increasing the strength of his army, will be the Free Cities. Taking over any of the free cities will significantly boost his strength and he will become almost unstoppable."
"It could be Lys first, or Myr, or Pentos but it is certain that sooner or later, he will set his sights on each of us. This is his declared intention. To build the greatest empire."
"We may not like Lord Aeos," he continued, "in fact, I personally despise him but we cannot deny his abilities. To deny his capability and genius would be to behave like ostriches burying their heads in the sand, refusing to see the danger looming before us."
"If there is one man who could truly achieve the dream of conquering the entirety of Essos, then in our time, that man is Lord Aeos. His conquest of the three cities of Slavers' Bay stands as a glaring example of his brilliance. His military acumen is extraordinary."
"If there were a competition for praising that brat, you would surely be the victor," one of the men sneered and laughed out loudly at his own joke.
He was a fat man, an idiotic buffoon from Pentos whose father had recently died, leaving this fool to inherit his position. An expression of disgust flickered across Illyrio's face. He almost cringed at the man's stupidity, his own companion from Pentos.
Most of the men in the room were sensible enough to recognize the gravity and truth of what the Lysene magister had just said. They remained silent, waiting for him to continue. The Pentosi Magister looked embarrassed and awkward as the laughter died in his throat.
"We, the Nine Free Cities, do not truly have much in common," the Lysene magister resumed. "But the world sees us as a collective, as if we were governed under a single administration. Whenever they speak of us, they speak of 9 free cities. For a common illiterate man, we are one. They know nothing about our differences."
"But this time, we have no choice but to give Lord Aeos a unified response," he added firmly. "If we fail now, I doubt we will ever get another chance. His army already numbers sixty thousand strong. The common people, the poor, even the slaves, they are all with him. They pray daily for him to attack their city first."
"And if he captures a city on this side of Essos and establishes a foothold here," he concluded, his voice heavy with warning, "then he will be unstoppable."
With that, he took his seat once more.
"Well said, Magister," a magister from Tyrosh stood.
"And thus we need to deliver a very powerful strike, a blow so heavy as to dismantle his army and his power in one go," he said. "Set an example that free cities are the most powerful force in the Essos."
"I think we all have a rough idea of the plan we have been discussing," he continued, "sending Dothraki tribes and sellswords to his three cities and we will surely talk more about that in time. But I want to talk about the defence of our city."
"In a best case scenario we may be able to destroy the cities of Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor, but the army would still be marching toward our cities. As of now, we have no information whether Lord Aeos has stayed behind in Meereen or is marching with his army. But even if he is in Meereen, even if his cities fall, he would be able to escape and rejoin his army."
"So we must also have a plan to deal with the incoming army," he continued.
"That is, I must add, if the three cities were truly destroyed, the logistical base of the incoming army would have been broken. They would have no source of coin, and their morale would be completely crushed."
"And then we could deliver the final blow," he concluded, and took his seat.
Then began an intense round of discussion among the magisters. It started off well, with everyone offering polite opinions, but the situation slowly changed. The debate grew heated as more and more details were brought up. Hurling abuses, shouting, and screaming became the common sight. A couple of breaks were taken in between, and it continued till late into the night.
Illyrio stepped out of the tent feeling stiff and tired. He had been one of those silent participants who had rarely spoken. He stretched as he walked toward his own tent.
"Varys… Varys…" he mumbled to himself. "It looks like what you desire most, stability, is going to be torn to shreds. Essos is going to be thrown into chaos. Let us see how your plans pan out."
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