Chapter 16: The Artificer's Designs and the Price of Allegiance
The aftermath of the Drako incident settled like a fine layer of dust over the Nexus, altering the atmosphere within Viserys's hidden sanctum. Joss Hood and Morrec, who had long served out of ingrained loyalty to the Targaryen name and Ser Willem Darry's memory, now looked at their young prince with an emotion that transcended mere fealty. It was a compound of awe, fear, and a dawning, uncomfortable understanding that Viserys was far more than the precocious boy they had vowed to protect. Lynx, "Shadowfoot," her loyalty forged anew in the crucible of that brutal alley fight, regarded him with an almost zealous devotion, her sharp eyes missing none of his quiet commands or subtle shifts in demeanor. Viserys, acutely aware of these changed perceptions, knew he had to manage them with the same meticulous care he applied to his ledgers and maps. He was the artificer of this growing, clandestine machine, and the allegiance of its human components was both his greatest asset and his most volatile variable.
In the months that followed, as Braavos moved from the damp chill of late autumn into the biting winds of winter, Viserys focused on consolidating and expanding his "Hidden Hand." Archivist (Corvin) proved to be a master not only of ledgers and languages but also of extracting crucial intelligence from seemingly innocuous documents – shipping manifests that hinted at undeclared cargo, guild records that revealed hidden rivalries, even discarded personal letters that exposed a merchant's debts or indiscretions. His cramped, lamp-lit corner of the Nexus became a vital hub of information processing. Shadowfoot, using the warehouse as her training ground, began to mold a select few of the older, more agile Sparrows into a team of skilled urban scouts and infiltrators, teaching them the arts of stealth, evasion, and silent observation. Her network provided Viserys with eyes and ears across the city, from the opulent mansions of the Keyholders to the grimiest alleys of the Ragman's Harbor.
The Nyx, under the capable command of Captain Valerion Qo, continued her profitable voyages, her routes now more daring, her cargoes more varied. She plied the waters to Tyrosh, bringing back not just valuable dyes but also detailed reports on the city's formidable defenses and the notoriously corrupt practices of its Archon. She ventured to Myr, returning with intricate clockwork mechanisms and whispers of dissent among the city's glassblowers' guild. Each voyage was a thread in the vast tapestry of information Viserys was weaving, each profit a strengthening of the "Unseen Coin" that funded his ambitions.
However, Viserys recognized a growing logistical bottleneck. The sheer volume of goods, funds, and information flowing through his nascent organization required a level of meticulous management that was beyond Joss's capabilities and too time-consuming for Viserys himself to oversee directly without neglecting his strategic planning. He needed a quartermaster, someone with an obsessive eye for detail, unshakeable integrity (or at least, loyalty that could be guaranteed), and a mind for numbers that could rival Archivist's in its own sphere.
His search, guided by discreet inquiries from his most trusted Sparrows, led him to a man named Brynn, a former chief clerk for a once-prominent Braavosi trading house that had collapsed spectacularly due to its principals' reckless gambling and embezzlement. Brynn, though blameless in the company's downfall, had been tarred by its failure, his reputation ruined, his skills unwanted. He was now a gaunt, haunted man in his late thirties, surviving on charity and the occasional bit of poorly paid copying work. He was known for his scrupulous honesty and his almost pathological attention to detail – traits that had made him an inconvenient witness to his former employers' crimes and subsequently, a pariah.
Viserys saw an opportunity. Brynn was skilled, desperate, and likely possessed a deep-seated resentment for the kind of powerful, careless men who had destroyed his career. The vetting process was subtle. Viserys, through an anonymous cutout, commissioned Brynn with a seemingly impossible task: to reconcile a chaotic set of deliberately flawed shipping accounts for a fictitious trading venture, a task designed to test not only his accounting prowess but also his ability to identify deliberate fraud and his discretion when handling sensitive (albeit fabricated) information.
Brynn returned the accounts within a week, not only reconciled but with a detailed, appended report outlining every discrepancy, every instance of (fabricated) malfeasance, and a series of astute recommendations for improving financial controls. His work was a masterpiece of meticulous order. More importantly, he delivered it with a quiet dignity, asking no questions about the source of the accounts or the identity of his anonymous employer.
Brynn was brought into the Nexus, blindfolded and under guard like the others before him. Viserys, his voice distorted, offered him the position of "Factor" for their "trading concern," responsible for managing all incoming and outgoing goods, accounts, and disbursements. He was promised a fair wage, security, and the chance to use his skills meaningfully again. The unspoken condition was, as always, absolute loyalty and secrecy. Brynn, his eyes hollow from months of poverty and despair, accepted with a quiet gratitude that Viserys found more reassuring than any loud oath. He was given the codename "Ledger."
The addition of Ledger (Brynn) significantly streamlined Viserys's operations. The warehouse, already a hive of quiet activity, became more organized. Ledger established a rigorous system of inventory control, managed the payroll for the Sparrows and other operatives (all paid through deniable cutouts), and ensured that the profits from the Nyx and other ventures were laundered and stored with meticulous care, a portion always converted into easily transportable gems.
This growing efficiency, however, did not go unnoticed. Malarys Prestayn, the aged patriarch of House Prestayn, was becoming increasingly convinced that his family's recent misfortunes – disrupted smuggling operations, lost trade advantages, even a few key agents within the City Watch being unexpectedly reassigned or disciplined (thanks to Tregar Ormollen's successes, fueled by Viserys's anonymous tips) – were not coincidental. He suspected a hidden hand was working against him, and his gaze began to fixate on the unusually successful "Tyroshi patron" whose ship, the Nyx, seemed to navigate the markets with uncanny foresight. Prestayn, unable to uncover the "Tyroshi's" true identity through conventional means, decided to escalate his tactics. He hired a notorious Lysene privateer captain named Salarro Saan (a distant, less reputable cousin of the famed Saan pirate family) to "investigate" the Nyx and its operations, with a strong implication that disruption, or even seizure, would be well rewarded.
Viserys learned of this new threat through a coded message from Kipp in Pentos. Kipp's network there had picked up whispers of Salarro Saan boasting in a dockside tavern about a lucrative new contract from a "Braavosi greybeard" to deal with a troublesome rival. The description of the rival's ship matched the Nyx perfectly.
The news was alarming. Salarro Saan was a known predator, his methods brutal and effective. This was a direct military threat, not just a game of spies and ledgers. Viserys immediately dispatched urgent, coded instructions to Captain Valerion Qo, ordering him to alter the Nyx's current route, to sail with extreme caution, and to prepare for potential hostile encounters. He also had Archivist forge new shipping manifests and clearance papers for the Nyx under a different (equally fictitious) trading identity, to make her harder to track if Saan's agents were watching the ports.
Daenerys, now nearing her eleventh nameday, was a constant observer of the subtle shifts in their household's atmosphere. She saw the increased tension in Joss and Morrec, the longer, more frequent absences of Viserys at the warehouse, the way Lyra, their gentle nurse, sometimes looked at Viserys with a mixture of awe and fear. Daenerys herself was becoming less a child and more a young woman, her Targaryen beauty beginning to blossom, her mind sharp and inquisitive.
"Vizzy," she said one evening, as he was patiently teaching her a complex Westerosi ballad on a small harp Ser Willem Darry had once owned, "the men who visit the warehouse, the ones who don't use their real names… are they your knights? Like the Kingsguard?"
Viserys paused, his fingers stilling on the harp strings. "In a way, Dany," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "They are men and women who have sworn to help us, to protect our secrets, and to work towards our return. Loyalty is their vow, and skill their armor. Not all battles are fought with swords."
"When you are king in Westeros," she mused, her gaze distant, "will you still need shadows and secrets? Or will you have real knights, in shining armor, like in the songs?"
"A wise king uses all the tools at his disposal, little sister," Viserys said. "Sunlight and shadow, steel and whispers. The world is not a song, and even the brightest armor can hide a traitor's heart. You must learn to see beyond the surface, Dany. That is the most important lesson of all." He then steered the conversation to the political allegories hidden within the ballad, subtly continuing her education in the realities of power. He also noted, with a private concern, her increasing desire for connection beyond their small, isolated circle. She had no friends her own age, no experience of a normal childhood. It was a sacrifice their exile demanded, but he wondered about its long-term cost to her spirit.
Kipp's gamble in Pentos, meanwhile, yielded a stunning piece of intelligence, but also placed him in grave danger. Growing bolder, and acting partly on his own initiative (a trait Viserys was trying to cultivate, albeit with caution), Kipp had managed to get one of his younger Pentoshi Sparrows employed as a scullery boy within the vast kitchens of Magister Illyrio's manse. Through this lowly access point, the boy overheard fragmented but explosive conversations – Illyrio was not just in contact with Varys, he was actively involved in a long-term plot to support a Targaryen restoration, though the details of which Targaryen and how remained unclear. More immediately, Kipp learned that Illyrio was expecting a clandestine meeting with a high-ranking Dothraki Ko, one of Khal Drogo's bloodriders, to discuss a significant arms deal.
This was information of the highest value. But Kipp's scullery boy, terrified by what he had overheard, became careless and was caught trying to listen at a door he shouldn't have been near. Though he didn't betray Kipp directly, Illyrio's household guards, notoriously efficient, began a sweep for spies. Kipp, sensing the net tightening, sent a desperate, pre-arranged emergency signal to Viserys (a specific breed of pigeon, released at a specific time, carrying a blank message – meaning extreme danger, location compromised).
Viserys received the signal with a surge of cold dread. Kipp was his most valuable field operative, the linchpin of his Pentoshi intelligence. To lose him would be a catastrophic blow. He had to act, and swiftly. But Pentos was far, Illyrio powerful, and Viserys's own resources in that city limited to Kipp's now-compromised network.
This was where the "Artificer's Designs" were put to their ultimate test, and the "Price of Allegiance" became starkly clear. Viserys's complex operation to extract Kipp would involve every facet of his Hidden Hand.
First, Archivist worked through the night, forging a set of official-looking (but entirely bogus) documents from a minor Myrish trading concern, requesting the immediate "repatriation" of a young apprentice (Kipp's pre-arranged cover identity in Pentos) who had supposedly absconded with company funds. The documents were aged, sealed with convincing forgeries of Myrish guild stamps, and contained just enough plausible detail to create confusion and bureaucratic delay if presented to Pentoshi authorities.
Next, Shadowfoot was tasked with a high-risk mission. She was to travel to Pentos on the swiftest merchant vessel Viserys could discreetly charter (the Nyx was currently on another assignment and too recognizable). Her mission: to make contact with Kipp's remaining loyal Sparrows, assess the situation, and, if possible, create a diversion that would allow Kipp to slip away during the confusion. She was given a small bag of gems for bribes and expenses, and her skill with knives and stealth would be her primary defense.
Ledger (Brynn) handled the complex logistics: securing Shadowfoot's passage under a false identity, arranging for untraceable funds to be available to her in Pentos through a series of blind drops, and preparing contingency funds in case of unforeseen complications.
Joss Hood, his honest face a perfect mask of bewildered concern, was sent to Magister Illyrio's manse, ostensibly as the agent of the "Myrish trading concern," to present the forged documents and demand the return of their "errant apprentice." His role was to create official confusion, to tie up Illyrio's bureaucracy, and to buy time for Shadowfoot and Kipp. Morrec accompanied him, a silent, intimidating presence meant to discourage any overly aggressive questioning.
It was an audacious, incredibly risky plan. Success depended on perfect coordination, flawless execution by every operative, and a healthy dose of luck. Failure could mean the loss of Kipp, Shadowfoot, Joss, Morrec, and the exposure of Viserys's entire Pentoshi operation, potentially even tracing back to Braavos.
Viserys, in the Nexus, felt the immense strain. He was moving pieces across a board hundreds of miles wide, his commands relayed through coded messages and trusted intermediaries. He slept little, his mind constantly reviewing contingencies, his enhanced senses on high alert for any whisper of trouble in Braavos itself. He knew he was asking for immense sacrifices, demanding extraordinary loyalty. This was the price of allegiance he himself was exacting.
The crisis came to a head when Shadowfoot reported back (via a coded message through a sympathetic sailor) that Kipp was indeed trapped, Illyrio's guards watching all exits from the district where he had been hiding. Illyrio himself, while publicly dismissing the "Myrish claim" presented by Joss, was privately intrigued and had intensified his internal search for the "spy."
Viserys, seeing his carefully laid plans beginning to falter, was forced to make a decision that pushed his moral boundaries further than ever. He knew Illyrio was expecting the Dothraki Ko. He also knew, from Kipp's earlier reports, the specific (and heavily guarded) dock Illyrio used for such clandestine arrivals. His original plan had been to simply extract Kipp. Now, he saw an opportunity to create a much larger diversion, one that might not only save Kipp but also deal a blow to Illyrio's immediate plans and perhaps even gain him unexpected leverage.
He sent a new, urgent set of instructions to Shadowfoot. She was not to attempt a direct rescue of Kipp. Instead, using the flammable materials he had ensured she carried, she was to start a significant fire in a warehouse adjacent to Illyrio's private dock, precisely at the time the Dothraki Ko was expected to arrive. The fire, coupled with anonymous (and false) tips to the Pentoshi City Guard about "Westerosi assassins" targeting the Dothraki envoy, would create chaos, draw away Illyrio's security, and hopefully, provide Kipp the opportunity to escape in the ensuing pandemonium.
It was a ruthless gambit. An uncontrolled fire in the docklands could cause immense damage, injuries, even deaths among innocent bystanders. Alistair Finch, the historian who had studied the horrors of war and urban conflagrations, recoiled internally. But Viserys, the Targaryen king fighting for his future, saw it as a calculated necessity. The survival of his key operative, the disruption of a potential enemy's plans – these outweighed the potential collateral damage in his cold, hard calculus.
This time, however, he wouldn't just rely on remote commands. He realized that the success of the diversion, and Kipp's escape, might require a level of precise timing and on-the-spot decision-making that Shadowfoot alone might not be able to manage, especially if things went wrong. He also felt a primal urge to be closer to the action, to ensure his plans didn't unravel due to unforeseen variables. He decided to use one of his "reincarnation benefits" in a more direct, if still hidden, way. He had been practicing projecting his consciousness, just a fraction of his awareness, over short distances, trying to "feel" the presence of his operatives or sense danger. It was a crude, unreliable skill, more intuition than true projection. But he focused all his will, all his serum-enhanced concentration, on Pentos, on Shadowfoot, on Kipp. He couldn't see or hear, but he tried to sense, to guide through the sheer force of his intellect and will, pushing his mental acuity to its absolute limit.
The plan, for all its audacity, worked, though not without terrible cost and unforeseen consequences. The fire started by Shadowfoot raged spectacularly, creating widespread panic. The false rumors of assassins sent the Pentoshi Guard scrambling. In the chaos, Kipp, guided by a series of near-miraculous "hunches" (perhaps influenced by Viserys's desperate mental focusing, or simply his own honed survival instincts), managed to slip through the cordon and make his way to a pre-arranged safe house. Joss and Morrec, their "diplomatic mission" having served its purpose as a distraction, were able to withdraw from Illyrio's manse under the pretext of escalating diplomatic offense.
However, the fire spread further than intended, consuming several warehouses and a tenement building. Lives were undoubtedly lost, though the exact number would never be known to Viserys. Shadowfoot herself was nearly trapped, escaping with burns to her arm and a renewed, haunted look in her eyes. Kipp, when he finally made it back to Braavos weeks later, smuggled aboard a returning trader, was changed – thinner, harder, his one good eye holding a new depth of understanding of the stakes they were playing for.
Viserys, receiving the fragmented reports, felt a chilling mixture of triumph and revulsion. He had saved his operative, disrupted Illyrio (whose meeting with the Dothraki Ko was indefinitely postponed, causing the Magister considerable political embarrassment), and demonstrated the reach of his Hidden Hand. But the price had been steep. The "Unseen Coin" of his operations was now stained with the smoke of innocent lives.
He met with his inner circle – Joss, Morrec, Archivist, Ledger, and a now-recovered Shadowfoot – in the Nexus. He didn't mention his attempt at mental projection. He simply reviewed the operation, its successes, its failures, its costs. He saw the unspoken questions in their eyes, the new weight of understanding. They had seen the ruthlessness of their "Forgemaster," his willingness to make hard, even brutal, choices. Their allegiance, he knew, was now tinged with a fear that was perhaps as potent as their loyalty.
"This was a necessary action," Viserys stated, his voice cold, devoid of apology. "Kipp was an invaluable asset. Magister Illyrio is a potential threat whose plans were worth disrupting. The methods were… regrettable, but the outcome justifies the means. This is the nature of the game we are in. There are no clean victories." He looked at each of them in turn, his violet gaze unwavering. "If any of you find this price too high, now is the time to voice it. There will be no repercussions for honesty. But once you reaffirm your commitment, it is absolute."
Silence hung heavy in the room. Then, one by one, they reaffirmed their loyalty, their voices subdued but firm. Shadowfoot, her bandaged arm a stark reminder, was the most fervent. They were bound to him now, not just by coin or circumstance, but by shared secrets, shared dangers, and the undeniable force of his will.
Viserys nodded slowly. The Artificer's Designs were becoming more intricate, more dangerous. The Price of Allegiance was indeed high, for them, and for him. He was forging an instrument of power, but he was also forging himself, tempering his soul in fires both real and metaphorical. The road ahead was long, and he knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone despite the serum's warmth, that the sacrifices would only grow greater.