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Chapter 211: The True Truth
🕑 Added 2025-03-17 11:52:36 +0000 UTCAfter handling Fenya’s matters, Lynd did not immediately enter the city. His current attire was too conspicuous, so he left through the south gate, circled halfway around Myr’s outer walls, and found a relatively secluded grove where he removed his armor and changed into a standard mercenary outfit. He then entered Myr through the north gate.
Unlike the quiet and sparsely populated south gate, the scene outside the north gate was entirely different. Many merchant caravans had gathered there, and a large number of mercenaries were seeking employment.
Although the great Dothraki battle in the Disputed Lands had effectively cut off most trade routes, the northern route to Pentos remained open. In fact, since the Dothraki khals had moved south to the Disputed Lands, the northern trade route had become even safer.
A steady stream of caravans departed through the north gate, following the Valyrian road to transport goods to other Free Cities.
However, renowned mercenary companies like the Golden Company had all been hired by Myr, leaving the merchants with no choice but to recruit lone mercenaries to fill their ranks.
As a result, solitary mercenaries like Lynd were a common sight in the area, blending easily into the crowd.
Once inside Myr, Lynd followed a path along the inner edge of the city wall, making his way to the lower district. This was where outsiders and the impoverished lived, making it the most chaotic part of the city.
He navigated through a dense area of small houses before arriving at a walled-off alley. Stepping up, he knocked on the door’s iron knocker.
A small peephole slid open, revealing a rough-looking man with prominent buck teeth. He took a glance at Lynd’s mercenary attire and was about to speak when Lynd produced a metal token and held it up in front of him.
“I need to see your Rat King,” Lynd said.
The man’s expression flickered with surprise at the sight of the token. Without asking further questions, he promptly unlatched the heavy wooden door and let Lynd inside.
Compared to the slums outside, the enclosed alley was noticeably cleaner. The ground had only a few patches of mud, likely left by recent visitors. Unlike other streets where debris was haphazardly piled up, this alley was well-maintained. Even drainage ditches had been dug along both sides of the road to channel excess water. The freshly laid stones covering the ditches indicated that they were a recent addition.
Not only was the environment different, but the people here stood apart from those in the slums as well. They were dressed neatly, their clothes clean and well-kept—more like respectable city dwellers from the upper districts than the destitute underclass outside.
However, no amount of refined attire could hide the sharp, streetwise air about them. As Lynd entered, the men loitering on either side of the street instinctively shifted their gazes toward him, their eyes quickly scanning for any places he might carry a coin pouch.
“Move it, all of you! Get back to work! This is the King’s guest—if you disturb him, the King will have your hides!” The buck-toothed man bellowed, waving a fist at the bystanders.
At his words, fear flashed across their faces. Without hesitation, they turned and retreated into the surrounding buildings. In mere moments, the alley was deserted.
The man then had someone tend to Lynd’s horse before leading him to an inconspicuous house. They ascended to the second floor, where he opened a hidden door. Beyond it lay a passage lined with concealed mechanisms, which they navigated before emerging in a building across the street—one with no visible entrance from the outside.
Inside, the decor was extravagant. A variety of artworks and artifacts from different regions were meticulously arranged throughout the room. Luxurious sofas from Summerhall were positioned with precision, allowing those seated to appreciate the displays from multiple angles.
From the layout and furnishings alone, it was evident that the owner had a keen appreciation for art and aesthetics.
“Please wait here. I’ll announce your arrival,” the buck-toothed man said respectfully before disappearing through a door into an adjacent room.
A few minutes later, he returned and gestured for Lynd to enter.
The room beyond was starkly simple, furnished with only a desk and a few bookshelves. The setup bore a striking resemblance to the study in Summerhall’s castle.
Seated behind the desk was a young man with red hair. He was focused on reviewing some documents, his head down as he meticulously made corrections. He gave no indication that he had noticed anyone entering.
Seeing this familiar scene, Lynd rolled his eyes before stepping forward and knocking on the desk.
The sudden action caught the young man off guard. Clearly displeased, he paused his work and looked up at Lynd.
At first, Dahax Tylanno's face was marked with displeasure, but the moment he recognized Lynd, his expression changed drastically. He immediately sprang up from his chair, his voice laced with panic.
“My lord, what brings you here?”
Without waiting for an answer, he rushed forward and knelt at Lynd’s feet like a devout believer. Ignoring the dirt and mud Lynd had tracked in, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to the upper surface of Lynd’s boot.
Dahax Tylanno was a native of Myr. His family, House Tylanno, was one of the thirteen founding families that led Myr in breaking away from Valyria to become an independent Free City. They were among the oldest aristocratic houses in Myr.
Due to internal power struggles within his family, he was forced to leave Myr and seek refuge in Westeros. Later, when Lynd and Nymeria were recruiting in Tumbleton, he and Balin joined their ranks and began working under Lynd.
However, Dahax never displayed any particularly remarkable talents. For a long time, he remained an unassuming administrative officer in Lynd’s service.
That changed when Lynd established his intelligence network. Balin was appointed as the head of the department, and from among his longest-serving followers, Lynd carefully selected the most loyal individuals to take on various roles within the intelligence network. Dahax was one of them, and only then did his true abilities come to light.
Dahax’s talent did not lie in intelligence gathering but in his exceptional ability to control the criminal underworld and its gangs. In less than a month, the intelligence network he managed had gained dominion over the gangs not just in newly built towns like Redemption and Miracle Harbor, but even in major cities like King’s Landing and Highgarden.
His success was so striking that even Varys, far away in King’s Landing, took notice. The Spider praised Dahax’s methods and influence over the underworld and secretly wrote to Lynd, suggesting that Dahax be transferred to King’s Landing to assist him. That was when Lynd truly began to recognize Dahax’s potential.
After careful deliberation, Lynd decided against sending Dahax to King’s Landing. Instead, he sent him back to Myr, his homeland, providing him with ample funds and manpower to secure his grip on Myr’s underworld. In a short span of time, he rose to become Myr’s most enigmatic and powerful figure—the Rat King.
At the same time, Lynd granted him the status of a senior member of the Miracle Merchant Guild, a position that not only solidified his influence but also laid the groundwork for House Tylanno’s resurgence in Myr. With Lynd’s backing, Dahax had climbed to a position just one step away from becoming the city’s Magister of Trade. All he needed was for the current Magister to die, and he would take the seat uncontested.
If the nobles and wealthy elite of Myr witnessed this young man’s current display of servitude, they would be utterly shocked, convinced that they were witnessing an illusion. As for the Rat King’s followers—Myr’s underworld gangs—they might very well gouge out their own eyes in disbelief.
Yet Dahax’s reverence for Lynd wasn’t solely out of gratitude for his rise to power, nor was it simply the result of the loyalty trials he had undergone, which had forged an unshakable devotion to Lynd. More than that, he was a fervent believer in the doctrine of the Chosen Savior.
Like the priests of the Redemption and Miracle Sept, Dahax viewed Lynd as his prophesied savior. His zeal was so extreme that even Septon Hullen, a high-ranking clergyman, was astonished. In a rare move, he had even suggested that Dahax be ordained as a cleric of the Redemption Sept.
Though Lynd did not agree to that request, he did allow Dahax to serve as a lay cleric within the sect. As a result, he was not only the Rat King of Myr but also an influential preacher within the Redemption faction of the Faith of the Seven. His following had grown considerably.
However, Lynd found Dahax’s exaggerated displays of reverence somewhat difficult to tolerate. He frowned and said, “Dahax, I’ve told you before—stop with these excessive gestures. It makes you look ridiculous, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
Dahax chuckled and did not argue. Rising to his feet, he wiped the mud from his lips and explained, “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you, my lord. I got a little carried away. It won’t happen again, I promise!”
Knowing Lynd’s personality, he wasted no time and got straight to the point. “My lord, have you come because of the Dothraki conflict in the Disputed Lands? Or is it the struggle between the nobles and merchants of Myr that brings you here?”
“Neither,” Lynd said with a shake of his head. Still, he decided to ask, “What’s going on with the nobles and merchants? Something feels off. Their infighting erupted too suddenly—there wasn’t any warning.”
“I was planning to send this information to Summerhall, but since you’re here, I might as well tell you directly.” Dahax smirked, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. “This whole mess? It’s just the Magisters playing with fire and getting burned. They started a game they couldn’t control, and now they’ve trapped themselves in it.”
“Playing with fire? What do you mean?” Lynd asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Dahax explained, “The so-called gemstone mine? Magister Eamond deliberately leaked its existence to the Tattered Prince. His plan was to use the mine as bait to stir up chaos in the Disputed Lands, create an opportunity for war, and strengthen his position as an War Magister. At the same time, he intended to use this turmoil as leverage to ensure that his grandson could inherit his seat.”
Lynd interrupted, his expression skeptical. “Wait a moment—Magister Eamond is a eunuch, isn’t he?”
Dahax nodded. “He is. But he has a younger brother. That ‘grandson’ is actually his brother’s grandson. He found the boy when he was still very young and secretly raised him in the city. Once the boy was of age, he was brought into the household as an attendant. He remained hidden from the public until very recently.”
Lynd listened thoughtfully and said, “So it seems that Eamond must have already mentioned his succession to the position of Magister to the other governors of Myr. The Governor of Myr didn't agree to let his grandson inherit the position, so he deliberately exposed the location of the gem mine to create chaos.”
Dahax scoffed, his tone filled with disdain. “Eamond has held the position of Armed Governor for too long, and now he's even trying to make it hereditary. The nobles and merchants would never stand for that, so they gathered to discuss a countermeasure—only to come up with an even worse solution.”
“Bringing the Dothraki into the mix, right?” Lynd asked.
Dahax nodded with a bitter smile. “The Dothraki involvement was actually orchestrated by Magister Pash. He's had ties with several Khals for a while and has collaborated with them on certain matters. Originally, he just intended to lure the Dothraki to the Disputed Lands to check Eamond’s power. But things spiraled completely out of control.”
“What a bunch of fools!” Lynd couldn't help but curse before asking, “If that’s the case, the merchants and nobles should have united against Eamond. Why have they suddenly turned on each other?”
Dahax let out a sigh. “The nobles saw that Pash’s plan to use the Dothraki to counter Eamond had not only failed but had also thrown the Disputed Lands into unprecedented chaos. Now, they see this as an opportunity to deal with Pash instead.”
Lynd frowned. “At a time like this, they’re still playing power games?”
“This is Myr.” Dahax shrugged and let out a self-deprecating chuckle before his expression turned slightly eager. “My lord, are you thinking of using this opportunity...?”
Lynd shook his head. “Myr’s situation is different from Tyrosh’s. There’s no need to resort to force.” He paused in thought for a moment, then picked up the pen and paper from the table, swiftly jotting down ten names before handing the list to Dahax. “You can assist these people in securing the position of Magister from behind the scenes—but don’t expose yourself.”
Dahax took the list and scanned it. His eyebrows lifted slightly when he reached the last name: Fenya. He was familiar with the connections between the other nine names and Summerhall, but Fenya’s inclusion caught him completely off guard.
“This Fenya has been in some trouble lately. Do you want me to…” Dahax hesitated.
Lynd shook his head. “No. This is a test. Help her only after she becomes a senior member of the Miracle Merchant Guild. Otherwise, remove her name from the list.”
“Yes, my lord,” Dahax replied respectfully.
Lynd then gave another order. “Prepare a room for me. I want to rest.”
“Yes, my lord,” Dahax responded before hesitating. “Should I inform anyone else…?”
Lynd shook his head. “No need. I’ll just be resting here for a couple of days before leaving. There’s no reason to alarm anyone. Besides, the atmosphere in Myr is incredibly tense right now, and those Magisters must have eyes and ears everywhere. If they come to see me, they could expose themselves.”
Dahax nodded in understanding and turned to make arrangements for Lynd’s accommodations. But just as he was about to leave, something crossed his mind, and he stopped. “The person you asked us to keep an eye on is currently in Myr. Do you want to meet him?”
Lynd was momentarily surprised but quickly recalled who Dahax was referring to. After a brief moment of contemplation, he said, “No need for you to arrange anything. Just give me the address.”
“Yes, my lord,” Dahax replied, bowing before taking his leave.
