GOT: I Plunder Skills — Chapter 392 - The Great Masters Have Fled
Lynn looked at the dwarf kneeling before him and showed no surprise.
"Rise."
"Your wisdom will find its place in the new world."
Tyrion stood. He could feel the weight of those words, and he knew exactly what they were.
Not a promise. A statement of fact.
Then the doors burst open.
A slave soldier stumbled in from outside the pyramid, drenched in blood, his face wild with ecstasy and awe.
"My lord! News from Meereen!"
"The Great Masters — they've all fled!"
"The slaves opened the city gates themselves. They're waiting for you to come and free them!"
The hall went silent.
Tyrion's hand froze mid-air, wine flagon still raised.
Those fools in Meereen. Faced with the slaughter at Yunkai, they hadn't even had the spine to resist. They'd just run.
"Good."
Lynn looked utterly unsurprised. He rose, walked to the terrace, and looked down at the city below , already, visibly, pulling itself back into order.
"It's time."
He turned and faced the core of what he'd built.
"Jorah. Grey Worm."
"My lord." Both stepped forward at once.
"I am returning to Westeros."
"But Slaver's Bay is the foundation of our new world. The starting point of everything that comes next. There will be no chaos here."
His gaze settled on Jorah Mormont.
"Jorah, you're a knight of Westeros. You understand nobles. You understand war. I need you to stay with Grey Worm and put down anything that tries to rise against us."
Jorah's body stiffened.
He wanted to go back. He'd spent years wanting to go back, to scrub the dishonor from his name and start clean.
But he looked into Lynn's eyes, those eyes that seemed to have no bottom, and knelt without a word of hesitation.
"As you command, my lord."
Lynn turned to Grey Worm.
"After I leave, you are the supreme military commander of Slaver's Bay. Keep expanding the army. Arm every man and woman willing to fight for their freedom." He paused. "Enforce every decree I've issued. Push White Sugar production higher , we need more gold."
"As for the Dothraki..."
A beat of silence.
"If they come — fight. Fight until they kneel."
"Your will be done." Grey Worm's answer was what it always was: short, clean, absolute.
With that settled, Lynn's gaze moved to Daenerys and Tyrion.
"You two are coming back with me."
Daenerys's breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists without her noticing.
Home.
The word her brother had spent his entire life chasing, the word she had heard so many times it had almost lost its meaning, was finally, at last, going to be real for her.
Tyrion exhaled slowly, a long breath laced with wine, and his face did something complicated , anticipation layered over something older and harder. Bitterness.
He had no desire to face that family again. The family he hated. The family he couldn't seem to cut himself free of, no matter how hard he tried.
But Lynn had commanded it. So.
"My lord — how exactly do we get there?"
Tyrion asked the question that actually mattered.
"Ships. We'll need a great many of them. Slaver's Bay to Westeros is not a short voyage."
"Ships will come."
Lynn said it simply, then closed his eyes.
A moment passed.
He opened them.
"Illyrio will have them ready."
The same tone. The same certainty. A man reporting what he already knew.
"Grey Worm."
"Here."
"Select thirty thousand of the finest Unsullied. Three months of provisions. March overland , cross the Dothraki Sea and make for Pentos." Lynn's voice didn't change. "I want every khalasar on the route to see our army. Every city-state. Let them look."
"Yes!"
"Everyone else boards the ships."
Lynn lifted a hand.
"Go."
---
Pentos.
The Magister's Mansion.
Illyrio Mopatis was settled deep into his vast marble bath, eyes half-closed, humming to himself while two young maids worked loofahs across the folds of his considerable body. The water was warm. The afternoon was quiet. Life, for the moment, was pleasant.
Then his entire body locked rigid, as though lightning had passed through him.
His small eyes, usually lost in the flesh of his face, snapped wide open, filled with pure, absolute terror.
A voice.
A voice that crossed impossible distance and detonated directly inside his skull.
"Illyrio."
"I need ships."
"Many, many ships."
SPLASH!
Illyrio heaved himself out of the bath like a man on fire, water crashing over the marble floor in all directions. He didn't reach for a robe. He didn't look at the two maids screaming behind him. Naked and dripping, he threw himself toward the door on hands and knees and started bellowing at anyone within earshot.
"Someone! SOMEONE GET IN HERE!"
"Ships , prepare every ship! Clear the whole harbor! Every vessel we have!"
"NOW!!"
➤ Next: The Return Journey