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Chapter 216: The Lost History of the Enchanted Armor
🕑 Added 2025-03-19 12:59:51 +0000 UTC“Lord Ornstein, welcome!” Illyrio stood at the entrance of his manor, having been informed of Lynd’s arrival in advance. The moment he saw him, he stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
The surrounding servants exchanged surprised glances at Illyrio’s display of deference. As one of the Magisters of Pentos, Illyrio held considerable power and influence. Even when meeting his fellow Magisters, he rarely showed such humility. The last time he had behaved this way was when Khal Drogo had visited Pentos.
Lynd dismounted and walked up to Illyrio. “Lord Illyrio, you should already know why I’m here.”
“Of course,” Illyrio replied, his hand trembling slightly at Lynd’s words. He forced a smile and added, “Please believe me, I never intended for things to go wrong.”
Lynd patted his shoulder and said, “Relax. If I thought you had sabotaged this on purpose, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.” He then glanced at the nearby servants, who busied themselves with their tasks but occasionally stole curious glances in their direction. “Are you sure this is the best place to talk?”
“No, no, you’re right. This isn’t a good place at all!” Illyrio quickly agreed. He immediately instructed the servants to take care of Lynd’s horse and carry his belongings before personally leading him to a refined cottage perched on the cliffside overlooking the sea.
“All the people here are my trusted men,” Illyrio assured him, gesturing to the servants inside and outside the cottage. “You can rest easy—nothing said here will be spread elsewhere.”
Lynd nodded and removed his armor, handing it to Illyrio’s attendants to have it cleaned. He then went to the bathhouse inside to wash off the dust from his journey. After refreshing himself, he changed into garments in the Pentoshi style and stepped out onto the viewing platform at the cliff’s edge.
By the time he returned, Illyrio had already prepared a meal. In keeping with Lynd’s habits, he had even arranged for water that had been boiled and cooled, storing it in a crystal bottle for easy access.
Lynd settled into his seat as if he were in his own home, casually picking up food from the table and pouring himself a drink. As he ate, he asked, “Alright, let’s hear it. What exactly happened? Varys’ letter was brief. I was handling other matters at the time, so I didn’t ask for details. Now that I’m here in Pentos, it’s best I get the full story from you directly.”
Illyrio had expected this conversation but still seemed somewhat uneasy. He took a moment to compose himself before beginning his account.
From the very start, when Varys had given him Valyrian steel and asked him to find a master smith in Qohor to forge a set of enchanted armor, Illyrio had treated the matter with the utmost seriousness.
He knew how much his old friend despised magic, yet Varys had still entrusted him with something so closely tied to sorcery. That alone was enough for Illyrio to understand just how important this was to him.
From the beginning, he had assigned a dedicated team in Qohor to oversee the forging of the armor.
Later, when he learned that the one commissioning the armor was none other than Lynd Tarran—the legendary Chosen of the Gods from Westeros—and after meeting Lynd himself in King’s Landing, he took the matter even more seriously. He had even dispatched two additional teams to oversee the armor’s creation.
Although the forging process encountered some difficulties, the final result was satisfactory—the armor was successfully completed.
To ensure its safe transport, he assembled a heavily armed escort. In addition to the men already stationed in Qohor, he deployed three more companies of two hundred soldiers each, forming an escort of eight hundred men to transport the armor.
However, disaster struck near Ghoyan Drohe. The convoy was ambushed by Dothraki, and the entire escort was slaughtered. The armor was stolen.
Afterward, Illyrio sent men to investigate, hoping to determine which Dothraki khal was responsible. He intended to negotiate its ransom or, at the very least, gather enough information to give Lynd a proper answer instead of appearing ignorant.
Yet, despite extensive inquiries, he found nothing. None of the local Dothraki clans claimed responsibility for the attack. It was as if the raid had never happened.
“Could it have been someone disguising themselves as Dothraki?” Lynd asked, dipping a piece of bread into his soup.
Illyrio nodded. “That’s my suspicion as well. I’ve also sent men to investigate in Qohor. If whoever was behind this was specifically after the armor, they’re bound to leave a trail there.”
Lynd continued eating, then asked another question. “And what about the enchanted armor in Braavos?”
Illyrio sighed and explained, “During the investigation, we discovered that shortly after the armor was stolen, a group of Dothraki had dealings with House Soyed of Qohor.”
Noticing that Lynd might not be familiar with the name, Illyrio paused and took the time to introduce him to the powerful noble family of Qohor.
Just like in Myr, power in Qohor is controlled by three main factions: the Guild of Craftsmen, which consists of smiths, weavers, and carpenters; the ancient Church of the Black Goat; and the Mage's Guild, which includes warlocks, witches, soothsayers, pyromancers, and other seekers of mystical power.
Most of Qohor’s elites hold positions within these factions and rarely interact outside their own circles. Only a handful of ancient families, those with long-standing legacies, have managed to establish influence in all three factions. House Soyed is one such family.
This family existed long before Valyria conquered Qohor. According to their own claims, they were among the city's original founders and believe they have an absolute right to rule Qohor.
However, few take this claim seriously. The Valyrian conquest of Qohor saw the destruction of all early records, leaving no definitive account of the city's origins. The only widely accepted fact is that the earliest builders were somehow connected to the Church of the Black Goat.
This is largely because the Black Goat Temple is the oldest structure in Qohor—its antiquity is comparable to Lorath's great labyrinth, suggesting they were built around the same time. The entire city of Qohor was constructed with the Black Goat Temple at its center.
Though House Soyed has used questionable methods to elevate its status, even their detractors must admit that the family is powerful. They hold seats among the priests of the Black Goat, and within the Mage's Guild, they boast several soothsayers, blood mages, alchemists, witches, and dark sorcerers, giving them significant influence over magical affairs.
However, the true foundation of House Soyed’s power lies within the Guild of Craftsmen. Half of Qohor’s smiths come from their family, and its finest master smiths are among their ranks.
“My magical armor was forged by smiths from this family?” Lynd asked, his voice heavy.
Illyrio nodded. “While the armor was being forged, House Soyed contacted me multiple times, trying to purchase it. Even after it was completed, they attempted to keep it for themselves instead of delivering it. I had to exert significant pressure through my connections in Qohor to force them to hand it over. So, when the transport was attacked, they were my first suspects. I immediately placed them under surveillance—that’s how I discovered their dealings with the Dothraki.”
“And after that?” Lynd pressed. “What happened once they made contact?”
Illyrio continued, “House Soyed sent a convoy carrying a shipment of custom-made weapons to Braavos. But they took an unusual route. Instead of traveling along the Valyrian Road to Pentos and then sailing from there, as most merchants would, they went directly to Lorath Bay and took a ship across the dangerous northern Shivering Sea to Braavos. Not long after their arrival, the Sealord of Braavos announced that he had acquired a suit of magical armor.”
“Could House Soyed have forged a copy of my armor?” Lynd asked, his tone low and cautious.
Illyrio shook his head. “That’s highly unlikely. The cost of creating such an enchanted suit is enormous. More importantly, the original armor’s success relied as much on luck as it did on skill. Replicating it would be extremely difficult, certainly not something that could be done in a short time. Right now, our only tangible lead is the magical armor in the Sealord of Braavos’s possession.”
“So, one way or another, I have to go to Braavos.” Lynd took a sip of water, swallowed his food, and let out a deep breath.
“For now, yes,” Illyrio confirmed with a nod.
“And if the armor in the Sealord’s hands isn’t mine?” Lynd asked.
Illyrio considered the question. “Then we’ll have to go to Qohor and confront House Soyed directly.”
Lynd let out a heavy sigh, frustration clear in his voice. “If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed in Qohor after the armor was completed and collected it myself. Then I wouldn’t be dealing with this mess now.”
Illyrio offered an awkward smile but said nothing in response.
Lynd stood and walked to the edge of the balcony, gripping the stone railing as he gazed out over the sea.
The observation deck was well-positioned—not only did it provide a sweeping view of the ocean, but from here, he could also look down upon the city of Pentos. The harbor, the temples, the markets—everything was laid out before him in crystal clarity.
“That’s the palace you built for Khal Drogo?” Lynd asked, pointing toward a massive structure still under construction in the distance.
“Yes,” Illyrio confirmed with a nod. “News arrived yesterday—Khal Drogo has defeated two other Khals, absorbed their warriors, and now commands over thirty thousand Dothraki. He has become the most powerful Khal in the Disputed Lands. It won’t be long before the chaos among the Dothraki there is resolved.”
“Looks like your palace wasn’t built in vain,” Lynd remarked with a slight smile.
His gaze then shifted toward a domed red-brick building in a remote corner of the city. Atop its roof sat a pair of sphinx statues—miniature replicas of the famous sphinxes guarding the entrance to the Citadel in Oldtown.
Of course, they were mere imitations. The original statues carried a presence far beyond mere decoration. Lynd still remembered the overwhelming sense of unease he had felt in their presence.
Back then, he had only recently inherited the Banished Knight’s memories. His dragon runes had yet to reach their full potential, and overall, he was still weak. Yet despite possessing the full combat experience of the Banished Knight—despite having a mind honed far beyond that of an ordinary man—he had felt an undeniable sense of threat and even a sliver of fear.
There was no doubt—the power contained within those sphinx statues was not to be underestimated.
“How is the Sphinx Academy faring in Pentos?” Lynd asked abruptly.
Illyrio was momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in topic but answered truthfully.
Compared to the other academy in Pentos, the Academy of Ballads and Arts, which enjoys favor among the Magisters, the Sphinx Academy—dedicated to academic research and the preservation of ancient texts—was struggling. It could barely maintain its operations, and many of its students had to work at the docks or in workshops to cover the academy’s daily expenses.
Though some merchants occasionally donated to the academy, and a handful of maesters who had completed their studies sent money back to support it, the institution was in dire straits. Many believed that within a decade, the Sphinx Academy would cease to exist.
The biggest problem was the lack of new students.
For the past five years, the academy had failed to recruit a single student in Pentos. People preferred to enroll at the Academy of Ballads and Arts, where they could become bards, singers, or artists—professions that quickly granted them access to noble households and financial support from the wealthy. Such careers ensured a comfortable life.
Graduates of the Sphinx Academy, however, found few opportunities. They either left the city in search of work or were forced to take on menial jobs. As a result, the academy had long stopped admitting students from Pentos.
Now, most of the students, maesters, and scholars at the academy came from other Free Cities. They had no real loyalty to Pentos, nor were they treated well. To make matters worse, the academy occupied a large, valuable plot of land in the city center—land that many had their eyes on. Some members of the Magister’s council had already proposed shutting down the Sphinx Academy, reclaiming the land, and converting it into profitable establishments such as theaters and shops.
Hearing this, Lynd nodded slightly and said, “Lord Illyrio, can you do me a favor?”
Illyrio raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”
Lynd’s voice was steady. “Help me shut down the Sphinx Academy. Expel all its scholars, maesters, and students—and put them on a ship bound for Summerhall.”
