Chapter 126: Ser Ander Poole
"The man who destroyed Tem's gang was named Ser Ander Poole, a hedge knight from Westeros. He also arrived in Pentos less than three months ago; his name was on the report I gave you before," Quhuru said.
"What is he doing now?" Ian didn't recall the name. There were too many people on that report; aside from a few with particularly outstanding histories, Ian hadn't had time to study the others carefully.
"He's now a member of Symon Tetrus's household guard, recruiting proxy fighters for Symon in a reopened fighting pit in the Lower City. Wait..." Quhuru paused. "You're not interested in him too, are you? I'm warning you, don't even think about causing him any trouble."
"No," Ian realized he might have been too hasty, so he said calmly, "I was just intrigued by your story."
Of course, Ian couldn't admit to having any intention of causing trouble for Ser Ander Poole. Pentos was a powder keg right now, with Symon Tetrus and Prince Hazan, representing the interests of the Volantene and Braavosi factions respectively, preparing for a life-or-death trial.
If he, as a member of the 'Illyrio faction,' suddenly attacked someone in Symon's household guard, wouldn't that be tantamount to Illyrio openly siding with the Braavosi faction and declaring war on the Volantene faction?
How could Illyrio allow that to happen?
Ian took a deep breath; the news was a mixed bag. The good news was that one of the enemies in Pentos was already out in the open; the bad news was that not only could he not use Illyrio's forces to deal with him, but he might also face constraints from Illyrio.
"Is that so? When you asked that question just now, I could have sworn I saw killing intent in your eyes."
"An illusion," Ian said firmly, secretly admiring Quhuru for being the one Illyrio had chosen from among a group of 'little mice.'
This youth was already sixteen, but he was short and thin as a reed. Anyone who didn't know him would think he was malnourished at first glance (in fact, he ate better than anyone else in Illyrio's household). It was precisely because of this appearance that he blended in seamlessly among the poor children of the Lower City.
Yet, this half-grown youth could perceive the killing intent hidden in Ian's heart without Ian showing any emotional change—a truly remarkable talent.
"I've said it before, my only goal from beginning to end has been to help Darren eliminate his enemy, Kinvara Tem," Ian assured him again.
Ian abandoned his plan to ask Quhuru for further information about Ser Ander Poole. Using Illyrio's power against a player who had already allied himself with Symon Tetrus would be unwise.
He planned to later use his skinchanging ability to slip into a raven and send a letter to 'Black Falcon' Dorian and Peron, asking them to investigate the man before making any further plans.
After all, since arriving in Pentos, they hadn't had any contact with Peron and his group; no one would suspect their connection.
"Alright, since you've said so, I'll believe you for now," Quhuru said, shaking his head after looking at Ian for a long time. "However, as a friend, I must remind you that Magister Illyrio hates troublemakers."
Quhuru said he believed him, but his expression and words carried a strong warning.
However, Quhuru's disbelief was understandable, as Ser Ander Poole met the conditions Ian had initially asked Quhuru to investigate.
"Alright, I won't beat around the bush. Let me put it this way," Quhuru thought for a moment and spoke again. "I'll have someone keep an eye on you from now on. If you do anything that could harm Ander Poole, I will report our conversation today to Magister Illyrio. After all, my job is to nip any trouble in the bud for His Grace, and I hope you can understand me."
"We've known each other for a while now, you should know me. I'm not stupid; I can tell what's important. Well, I admit I also have hostility towards that Ander Poole. As for the reason, it involves Ser Darren's secrets, which I swore to him I wouldn't reveal."
"I understand the oaths of you Westerosi knights," Quhuru nodded.
"Thank you. So what I want to say is that, compared to Darren's personal grudges, the affairs of Magister Illyrio and His Grace Viserys are of utmost importance to me. If you need to inform the Magister of all this, please tell him for me that I will always be a solver of problems, not a creator of them. I swear on the honor of House Darry to the Seven."
Quhuru looked at Ian for a long time, then nodded. "I believe you."
This time his tone was much more sincere.
"Then, let's continue with the matter of Kinvara Tem," Ian changed the subject.
"There's no more information about him. To be honest, if he hadn't reappeared at the red temple, I would have thought he was dead. After all, he hasn't been seen since that dock attack.
And according to the sellswords who participated in the operation, they laid a trap. Except for a few who jumped into the water to escape, they almost wiped out Magister Haucot's sellsword force."
"Did they find Kinvara Tem's body?"
"Seven hells, hundreds of people died that night. Many of the bodies were already rotting when they were pulled out of the water afterwards. Who would notice if the body of some unknown sellsword captain was in there?" Quhuru asked rhetorically.
His fate unknown? Ian thought that the person who appeared at the red temple might be an ally or enemy of Tem in disguise. But in any case, he must be a player, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to say the word basketball.
"Anyway, that's all. If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving now. I still have a lot of things to take care of."
"Alright, thank you for the information. If there are any new developments, please keep an eye out for me." Ian thanked Quhuru again and saw him out the door.
Back in his chambers, Ian felt a surge of irritation.
He hadn't expected Illyrio's 'neutrality' to become the biggest obstacle to dealing with the player named Ander Poole.
Ian was now even hesitant about whether to use Peron and his group to deal with Ander Poole.
After all, Quhuru's warning, translated, meant 'If anything happens to Ander Poole—whether he chokes on his wine or is struck by lightning—Magister Illyrio will blame you.'
Of course, even without Peron and his group's intervention, having them investigate shouldn't be a problem.
Thinking this, Ian quickly wrote a letter, then opened the birdcage in the room and effortlessly slipped into the consciousness of a raven.
(End of Chapter)
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