Chương 141: The Great Bet (Part II)
Continuous POV: Tycho Nestoris
'The Bank, but especially 'the undersigned' are in a terrible position!' No one wanted to bet against the man's gaze anymore...
Meereen, Yunkai, Astapor, Tyrosh, Volantis... no fighting pit or big-city arena box office would accept an instalment of The Watcher anymore!
'The Jade Tablet of Galash!' The Monito-Legend that few knew about. The event that marked the beginning of the rise of the Fourth World Organization...
In the year 252, in the free city of Tyrosh, wealthy slave trader Galash Hulotha won the election of the 31st conclave for the position of Archon and ruler of the city.
The richest man in Tyrosh, who succeeded in creating a slave trade route that extended all the way to the legendary city of Yi Ti, thus making an immense fortune in just a few years, inaugurated a grand spectacle of fighting to the death between gladiators and warriors from all over Essos.
The greatest spectacle the city had ever witnessed. Guests from all over Essos and Westeros were invited to witness it. Even the Prince of Dragonflies participated in the event as a representative of the Iron Throne.
The most bizarre and peculiar creatures and humanoids clashed in the Tyrosh arena in anticipation of the grand final spectacle, the Fight of the Nine Champions.
Nine competitors representing each Free City would compete to the death in the grand final melee to determine the Winning City.
On occasion, the wealthy Archon Galash, to show off the prosperity and influence of the new Hulotha noble family, guaranteed in front of his entire aristocratic audience that the New Sovereign Household would personally ensure any wager in the final fight.
The minimum stake in participating could not be less than 100 gold coins, and each bettor was given a receipt with the seal of the Archon on a precious Jade Tablet...
Hundreds of possible events could be bet on, in addition to the straightforward victory of the champion. For example, the order of the eliminated, the length of time each had lasted, which champion had faced whom, how many slashes had been exchanged...
Among the thousands of bets -hidden in the shadows- resided a minor one that was statistically almost impossible to guess...
Ten libertine, poor, foreign young men and two younger noble brothers from Norvos hazarded a single bag containing 120 gold and 12 silver pieces on one highly improbable wager, only to vanish like ghosts from the city two days before the big event...
By the time the Archon unleashed armies of mercenaries, assassins, spies, privateers, and pirates to hunt down the one piece of jade that would spell the end of him and his dynasty, the young group led by a former slave from Meereen was already at sea aboard a merchant swan ship bound for Braavos, four days ahead of them. Heading for the only institution that could enforce payment of the colossal fortune owed...
The 16-year-old nobleman named Zoldhak No Dua, who sold the continent's most sought-after receipt to the Iron Bank for half of all the Hulotha family's wealth and possessions, shocked all the employees of the Braavos banking institution when he demanded that his hill of gold and resources owed be titled to a fallen noblewoman residing in Pentos named Zishua Zhao Urat.
Archon Galash Hulotha's rule lasted only five moons... Then, he and all his family were forcibly deposed by the council of Tyrosh, deprived of all possessions, captured and resold as slaves in the markets of Lys and Volantis, and shortly forgotten by history...
It took years to identify the menace terrorizing all the moneylenders, box offices, and arenas of Essos.
Because of those events, the young man, a boy invisible to the eyes of the world, who loved to contemplate the workouts of hundreds of gladiators and wrestlers from all over the Known World, was later christened with the name 'The Watcher.'
Tycho observed that famous Jade Tablet hundreds of times, displayed in a glass case in the corridor of the Merchants of Honor.
A reminder symbol that always reminded him of the infinite potential of a single bag of gold. Tycho remembered every millimetre of that legendary smooth piece of jade, every engraved letter or number.
{89,412 to 1}... possibilities not decreed by the trivial stroke of luck.
At that moment, after that fateful question from 'that man,' with no practicable escape route, the promising fate of Tycho Nestoris and the coffers of the Iron Bank danced on the edge of a razor-sharp...
A true Braavosian did not fear death ... the words: [Valar Morghulis] were engraved in the minds of each of them from the tender age of five.
No, not death ... but there were fates far worse than it, and the fury of Chai Dug, the student of the former Scarlet God-Emperor of the Golden Empire, Lo Tho 'The Terrible,' was one among them.
"The Thirteen have no reason to denigrate your welcome proposal, Master Zick...
A 'little' wager between gentlemen is always an appreciated pastime in Braavos."
"Ahahaha! Excellent, Director!
It's been a long time since I've been able to dabble in one of my favourite pastimes!
I thank you and all the remaining twelve members for this welcome opportunity for recreation." The Watcher.
"Ahaha... You're welcome, Master...
May I ask if both parties hold the option of proposing a "mutually agreed event" and a "bet limit"?" It didn't hurt to try.
"Of course, there is the possibility, Director! What would be the point if the two bettors could not bargain an honest agreement?
A 'compulsion' wouldn't be a gentleman's wager, would it? Ahahaha!" Tycho thanked his lucky star in the heavens but did not let his guard down for a moment.
"Stake or Event? I leave the first choice to you, Director." Tycho nodded and pondered the question carefully.
"Event..." The Watcher smiled, "Please, I'll leave it to you."
"Thank you, Master...
How would you like to bet on an event outside of just winning?" Tycho.
"I'm all ears." Zick.
"Since the noble custom of Trial By Combat has been proposed and accepted, neither of us would like to see our 'protégé' perish tragically in an ephemeral dispute of honour... Therefore, I would propose to bet on surrender.
Should Duncan or Gelledo declare surrender, the Titan or the Guardian would win the bet. The death of either contestant, before the surrender, would result in a simple draw and annulment of the agreement." It was the best way out that Tycho's mind could extrapolate in that short time.
"Mmm, interesting...interesting indeed. And I guess the duel conditions remain the same, am I right?
A challenge between Water Dancers with his Gelledo equipped with Silk of Arcomantula and my boy without Steel of Valyria or armour..." This was the second time in Nestoris's life that he witnessed the furious mystic gaze of that monster.
Tycho braced himself and swallowed his pride, shamelessly stating:
"Emm... correct assumption, Guardian.
Also..." a clause had to be added.
"Yes?" The Watcher's friendly face grew increasingly dull as his gaze became sharper and more oppressive...
"Here... ergh emm..." Tycho continued to have difficulty breathing in the face of all that pressure, but the Braavosian steeled himself. "Some rumours in Braavos suggest the 'possibility' that Duncan is ... here 'special.' Blessed by the Old Gods, if you can call it that.
Blessed with very similar abilities found by the mighty Khal Drogo...
Our Gelledo holds no such gifts, so..." the Guardian completed the sentence:
" You would like Duncan to dispense with such 'blessings' during the duel. And I suppose if my boy were to break that restriction, the wager would likewise be void, am I right?" Tycho nodded with the most convincing friendly, hopeful smile he could muster.
"Mmm... Ah! I like that! Gone, Director!" Spat The Watcher softening his eyes.
'He agreed just like that! Without even haggling a bit?!' Thought the Braavosian alarmingly, he recovered from his shock--now it was his turn.
"To you the punt proposal, Honorable Guardian." Drum roll...
Tycho did not propose the win-lose condition for victory... He was aware of how ephemeral the chances of success were. Just a glance at the look on Bloody Snow's face was enough to sense it; the real victory was getting out of this madness unharmed without the Bank losing priceless assets...
"Strict conditions for victory deserve rather substantial rewards... Don't you think?" the heart of Tycho lost a beat.
" But... it would be rather rude to turn a friendly match between two institutions 'on excellent terms' into a mere grudging fight over resources...
Therefore, I will request what the assets that Iron Bank most abounds in ... Valyrian steel." Tycho closed his eyes and sighed in prayer.
The High Tower had the largest stockpile of Dragon Glass, Carcosa of spells and runic formulas to create Mana Stones and magical items, and the Bank...the Bank possessed the largest supply of Valyrian Steel ingots in the entire World.
Braavos's most significant financial manoeuvre, the move that downgraded Oldtown and Carcosa a step further by elevating the Titan to the top of the hierarchical pyramid, was the massive purchase of Valyrian Steel stockpiles a decade before the great disaster...
That metal was the best-known magical conductor in the World, essential not only for weapons and armour but also for magical items...
The current average market price was 40,450 gold coins per pound.
It took nearly 4 pounds to forge a standard long sword--and the sale was even more exclusive than Mana Stones.
Very few held the license to buy and sell bullion.
"How much steel did you have in mind, Master Zick?" Asked the emissary with cautious politeness.
"Um, I was thinking two thousand pounds; how about that?" The stab was icy and painful.
'Two thousand pounds?!! He must be kidding, I hope?!' Tycho mentally calculated the possible tremendous impact the magical black market would suffer if the Bank ever deprived itself of such lifeblood.
The price would skyrocket to around 75,000 gold coins minimum.
At that amount, the citadel would have hunted down every High Mystery graduate maester to snatch that bit of treasure from his neck, and they would have categorically abolished free enrollment in the course...
There could have been 50 complete sets of flake armour forged or 200 swords as big as Ice with that bulk. So it was not only extremely expensive but also deadly dangerous!
The Bank and The High Tower absolutely did not want The Watcher to train a deadly platoon equipped in Valyrian Steel! There was no more dangerous combination...
"Coff, coff... emm... Master, two thousand would be 'a little too much' above the Bank's capabilities at the moment... how about One hund- " The Watcher's hawkish eyes hardened again.
"Two-" that wasn't the correct answer either...
"Four hundred! Four hundred pounds!... What do you say?" Tycho could not risk more than that amount...he could not.
"Four hundred?... Honestly, that seems a little small. But then again, if the Bank didn't have such availability...
I'll tell you what. Since I am a great collector of everything about my predecessors, how about we add to the four hundred pounds... mmm let's see... I'm spoiled for choice. But yes! Blackfire!
One of the first works of Valgudryel's apprentice seems like a fair compromise." Unfortunately, a second stab in the same spot but now red-hot hit the poor Braavosian.
'Does The Watcher know that Blackfire is kept in our vaults!' That long sword had unique magical properties...
For all the 'non-discendants' of the Targaryen lineage, Blackfire was a 'common sword of Valyria,' but the blood of the Three-Headed Dragon who proved worthy could unleash the powers dormant in that sword!... It was not only a unique object but also a symbol of enormous power!
A symbol of legitimacy to the Iron Throne & the hold of influence over the Golden Company!
A good portion of those Twenty Thousand Excellent Mercenary Swords might have chosen to break the Iron Agreements with the Bank and follow the dream promised by Bittersteel.
"Master...I'm afraid Blackfire is still bound in a lease with one of our esteemed clien-" he was interrupted.
"Illyrio Mopatis? Ah, fear not, Director, I am sure my mother will be able to find an honest arrangement that will satisfy the loss of Magister Illyrio. No image damage will be perpetrated on the Honorable Iron Bank."
The Old Man was damn well prepared to flog the Titan soundly!
That sword was a certified magical item {Master} was worth at least five million golden dragons!
"There would be no problem then... But such a request would redemand to 'Madame Zhao Urat' a stake of equal value, Master." It was the last card to play. The peculiarity of the Guardian of Love was that he did not care about goods or treasures but about people.
The Spider Queen had complete control over all the gold and resources of the Fourth Organization. Zick was like a spendthrift young heiress scion dependent on his foster mother's allowance.
"Right... A Silk value of Adult Acromantula compensates to the last ounce for the 400 pounds of Steel... and a magical object belonging to the current Guardian of Love." Tycho widened his eyes.
"You will not mean-"
"My personal robe, Director…
The Iron Bank has long coveted it ardently, hasn't it?"
And he was absolutely right!
Only the Many-Faced Gods knew how many and what powerful spells were imbued in that masterpiece!
The strongest Acromantula Silk in the World! Even the steel of Valyria had difficulty breaking through that fabric. Unfortunately, the Bank knew only a few of the properties of that Artifact.
-Total immunity to poisons and diseases.
-Auto-repair of Tissue.
-Passive protection from arrows, darts or throwing weapons.
-Adaptability and camouflage.
The Guardian chose of his own volition to make his robe look like ordinary merchant's clothing. Still, if he really wanted to, he could change the artefact's appearance to a thousand other combinations of shape or colour.
It was one of the Bank's most coveted items--a magical artefact of rank: [Grand Master].
President Ultherro desperately wanted it.
Twelve years ago, the Titan attempted to purchase the robe from the Spider Queen by offering thirty million in gold, materials, and magical items of the Fourth Organization's free choice. The Bank would even get forgemaster estimator from Carcosa into their dungeon for such a bargain.
Ultherro would have sold out Blackfire, Dark Sister, and all the other freaking Valyrian swords of Westeros to get it!
A perfect symbol of power for the Head of the World's Most Powerful Organization to wear.
Whichever Bank employee had managed to get his hands on The Watcher's robe would have been named Recommended Candidate for the succession of President!
It was a golden opportunity!
'Calm down, Nestoris! Breathe and think with a clear mind...
Always remember that 'fear' and 'desire' are the greatest enemies of the critical thing-' another golden opportunity broke Tycho's critical thinking.
"I'll tell you what. I'll sweeten the bet further...
Except for suicide or self-harm, the Iron Bank will get the victory should both duelists kill each other or my boy accidentally use one of his 'blessings.'"
"The Iron Bank accepts!"
End POV
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POV: A Furious Master
Temporary arena was set up for the duel.
A few minutes after an agreement between Gentlemen was made...
"Force him to surrender, Master? I don't know if-"
"Use all Twelve Closing Gates freely, if necessary." Zick shocked Duncan.
"Also, Master Recallio here will lend you his new Damascus steel sword." The kind gifts of Torrhen's Square for Zick's entire company, forged by Master Mott himself, would overcome the Silk defences of Arcomantula.
"But, master! Without [Bless], there is a risk that he may-"
"What will the chains and bars that will bind the Demon have to be made of?" Zick asked without giving his pupil a chance to indulge in doubt or uncertainty.
"...Viscous water and elastic like loose resin, stronger than steel but more flexible than leather..." Duncan.
"And what will you have to do should the Demon oppose you?" the master.
"Use the Demon's strength absorbed in the water to imprison him again." The student.
"Good. You know what, how and when to do it. You won't need anything else, my boy.
Gelledo is confident of his armour, and all the Wine of Courage gobbled up, but he won't need it. It would take years to desensitise pain receptors on par with the Unsullied.
Besides ... that human waste hides another secret, something that even Tycho Nestoris does not know, but I am not sure what it is. It's about his sword... Don't worry, he doesn't see the magic again." Zick tried to unravel the third arcane before the start.
"Poison, perhaps?" Duncan asked.
"Very difficult to hide. Especially 'to me' ... but I wouldn't rule it out either. Even my gaze has its limits.
Try not to get hit; focus on disarming and parrying to be safe. And, Duncan..."
"Yes, master?"
"You have my full permission. Unleash freely within and no later than a nine-minute interval. Strike without qualms the nerve and joint points of that arrogant, disloyal, and dishonourable street cutthroat.
Give him a taste of the hell you've had to endure, and I assure you he will grovel at your feet, invoking the forgiveness of all Thousand Gods he worships." Zick declared confidently, casting another glance at the Braavosian duo intent on a heated but private conversation.
He did not need lip-reading to understand what Nestoris was promising the boy in the event of victory.
Total acquittal of all crimes committed, restoration of his good name, condonation of the 'Gift' to be given to the Many-Faced Gods, and promise of the Bank's full support in the coming Sealord election...
The hope and desire in the face of the Braavosian, who previously had nothing to lose but now had 'everything' to gain, was palpable from sixty feet away.
"Master, I have never seen you so 'troubled'... Is there anything I should know?" Asked his pupil.
"In fact, I am, my boy...
We can say that your master is 'Sensibly Angry'.
The High Tower and the Titan are teasing my patience.
First Leyton's quibbles to conceal some impropriety perpetrated by Oldtown, now the slimy subtleties of the lagoon dwellers...
A man does his best to understand and endure, but there is a limit to everything..."
Duncan became petrified and sought the gaze of all his fellow instructors. Will, Recallio, Baragh, Ramas, Syggha, and all the remaining members were a thread away from the war footing...
Zick only needed to move a finger to unleash the fury of eleven dangerous warriors and three hundred hardened killer blades waiting for his command. And that finger itched tremendously...
"Master-" Zick knew what Duncan wanted to say to him.
"Do you remember the maxim virtue of your father and grandfather? How did he recite it?
[If someone throws a stone at you, you respond by throwing a flower in turn... but you must never, ever forget the vase containing it when you do so.]
Words full of wisdom, my boy.
Go and sonorously smash 'that vase' against the Titan's head.
I want the whole world to always remember:
[What a bitter End looms over all disloyal provocateurs who insist on irritating Bloody Snow]." Zick.
"Forgive my insistence, master, but... the look in Director Tycho's eyes seems rather elated and hopeful... What exactly did you promise him?" So asked the worthy disciple who was learning well from the man they called 'The Watcher'.
"Just a little playful wager between gentlemen. Nothing to worry you.
Give it your best, and always think of your safety first." Unfortunately, those words were insufficient to convince his stubborn pupil to desist.
Before Duncan could breathe a word, Zick gently grasped the boy's shoulders and, releasing all the conviction and hope he had accumulated in his own fragile heart, the old man said:
"I would bet the World on you."
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End Chapter.
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