Just like in Myr, Lynd spent only two days in Pentos before boarding a ship and leaving.
During his stay, he introduced Hugh to Illyrio, instructing them to work together in handling matters related to the Sphinx Academy.
At the same time, he secretly met with his agents stationed in Pentos, assisting them in resolving minor issues.
However, for the city's elites and underground power brokers, those two days were anything but peaceful. One after another, their people were assassinated, throwing them into a state of paranoia. Many speculated that their rivals had hired the Faceless Men to carry out the killings.
As a result, tensions in Pentos began to rise, and an undercurrent of fear spread through the city.
Illyrio was one of the few who knew what was truly happening—he was even involved, supplying names and information. This allowed him to position himself favorably in the chaos to come, ensuring he would profit from the turmoil.
Before Lynd departed, Illyrio cautiously brought up the Targaryen siblings, which took him by surprise. He had expected Illyrio to take them into his manor, yet instead, the man had merely observed them from the shadows.
At first, Lynd assumed Illyrio was hesitating because of him—perhaps believing that since Lynd had arranged for their arrival, he had his own plans for them.
But he soon realized he was mistaken. Illyrio hadn't refrained from approaching the siblings because of Lynd; he simply felt they hadn't suffered enough. Not long after their arrival, Illyrio had orchestrated the theft of all their money, plunging them back into poverty.
The reason he had cautiously mentioned the matter was to gauge whether Lynd would be angered by his actions.
Lynd said nothing. He made no attempt to intervene in their fate. He had already altered their course once when he met them on Blackstone Island, providing them with something that could change their future. Whether Daenerys chose to use the necklace or not was no longer his concern. If she didn't, their lives would simply return to where they had started.
Lynd left Pentos aboard a simple merchant vessel. Due to the rampant piracy in the Narrow Sea, merchant ships rarely traveled alone. Instead, they formed convoys of seven or eight ships, sometimes more than a dozen, for protection.
Even with these precautions, pirate attacks were unavoidable. Most raids occurred under the cover of night, with the pirates targeting only a single ship at a time.
This strategy minimized resistance from the other vessels. After all, not every shipowner had a strong sense of mutual defense. Moreover, the ships that were attacked were often those isolated within the convoy, leading Lynd to suspect that the fleet had an informant marking the most vulnerable targets for the pirates.
Through conversations with the crew, Lynd learned that efforts to eliminate these pirates had been futile. It wasn't just the Free Cities that had attempted to eradicate them—White Harbor and Dragonstone had also launched campaigns against them, as the growing pirate threat affected trade routes to King's Landing and White Harbor.
Yet these efforts had little success. The pirates of the Narrow Sea had learned from the failed Stepstones Pirate Alliance and never engaged in direct confrontations with hunting fleets. At the first sign of patrol ships, they fled immediately.
Their vessels were sleek, fast longships, easily outpacing the heavily armed patrol ships. At night, visibility was low, and pirate ships frequently lured pursuers into unfamiliar reef zones, where they ran aground and capsized.
After suffering losses, both Dragonstone and White Harbor abandoned their pursuit of the pirates, instead focusing on patrolling the Westerosi coastline. While this didn't eliminate the problem, it at least reduced pirate raids near their own shores.
Perhaps because Dragonstone and White Harbor had given up, the Free Cities had turned to the Miracle Fleet, seeking to station it in their port cities to maintain order in the Narrow Sea. While this arrangement would cost them some money and a measure of control, it was a worthwhile investment for trade-dependent Free Cities.
The journey from Pentos to Braavos followed the ocean currents, allowing for relatively swift travel. The voyage was expected to take six days.
The merchant ship Lynd boarded belonged to a Tyroshi trading guild and was carrying high-end pewter wares produced within their domain—valuable cargo. To ensure its safety, the shipowner not only joined a temporary convoy but also hired ten mercenaries for protection. Lynd was among them, traveling under the guise of a hired sword.
Since departing Pentos, the fleet had hugged the coastline, remaining within sight of land rather than venturing too deep into the Narrow Sea.
At first, the coastal scenery was captivating. But as the days passed, the unchanging landscape became monotonous. The mercenaries and sailors, growing bored, passed the time with games—some engaged in bare-knuckle brawling, reminiscent of boxing.
However, not everyone was interested in brawling. A mercenary clad in leather armor, with a longbow slung across his back, approached Lynd and asked, "Lyi, care for a little competition?"
When leaving Pentos, Lynd had chosen not to wear the Ornstein armor, leaving his Lion Knight gear behind. Instead, he disguised himself as a mercenary skilled in archery, using a name that was actually the surname from his past life—the same character etched on the hilt of his family crest's sword.
"How do you want to compete, Anguy?" Lynd asked, glancing at the red-haired, freckled young mercenary.
Ever since boarding the ship, Lynd had noticed Anguy. Unlike the other mercenaries, who carried both bows and longswords, Anguy only had a bow, with nothing but a small hunting knife as his close-combat weapon.
After learning his name and background, Lynd grew certain—this was the same Anguy who, in a few years, would win the archery contest at the King's Landing tournament, earning fame as one of Westeros's greatest marksmen.
But Anguy was not just famous for his skill—he was infamous for squandering the entire fortune he won. Within months, he had blown through tens of thousands of gold dragons, a sum greater than what many Westerosi lords could collect in taxes over several years.
"A single hourglass," Anguy said, nodding toward the distant cliffs where seabirds wheeled overhead. "Whoever shoots down the most storm-petrels wins."
"Fine," Lynd agreed. "And the stakes?"
"I want your bow," Anguy said, pointing at the bow Lynd had secured at his waist.
Lynd had noticed Anguy's interest in his bow from the moment they boarded the ship. The young archer had been looking for an opportunity to get his hands on it, and now that chance had arrived.
"And what about you?" Lynd asked with a smirk. "My bow is on the line—what are you offering?" He gestured toward the longbow on Anguy's back. "Don't tell me you're planning to wager your own bow as well?"
Anguy hesitated, momentarily caught off guard. It was exactly as Lynd had guessed—he had indeed intended to put up his own bow as a wager, hoping to trade up for something far more valuable.
The spectators quickly picked up on his scheme and began booing. It was obvious to everyone that Lynd's bow was leagues above Anguy's in quality and craftsmanship.
"So, what will it be?" Lynd asked again.
Anguy's face flushed under the growing jeers. He hesitated, then finally asked, "What do you want as my stake?"
Lynd's tone grew serious. "I'm looking for people to work for me. Your archery skills are good—you have potential. If you lose, you'll work for me for a year. After that, you can decide whether to stay or leave."
Anguy considered the offer for a moment before nodding. "Alright. That'll be the wager."
With the terms set, the two selected a sailor to act as referee. Each took their position on the deck, steadying themselves before unshouldering their bows and nocking their arrows.
The chosen sailor held up a small hourglass. As soon as he gave the signal, he flipped it over, placing it atop a bucket between the competitors.
Anguy was the first to draw and loose. He moved with confidence, and his arrow soared straight toward a storm-petrel in the sky.
But before his arrow could reach its mark, Lynd fired his own shot—twice as fast. His arrow caught up with Anguy's mid-flight, split it clean in half, and continued on, piercing three birds before falling into the sea.
The watching mercenaries, though not all master archers like Anguy, were still trained bowmen with keen eyesight. They immediately understood what had happened—and broke into gasps and shouts of disbelief.
They had never seen such a display of marksmanship. Not only had Lynd's arrow overtaken and cut through Anguy's, but it had also continued its flight to take down three targets in a single shot.
The commotion on the deck soon reached the lookout high in the ship's rigging. Having witnessed the feat from above, he eagerly shouted down, repeating what he had just seen.
The sailors, who hadn't all seen it for themselves but heard the lookout's cry, were left stunned. To them, it sounded like something out of legend.
For a brief moment, all eyes were on Lynd, who remained as calm and composed as ever. Even Anguy, his opponent, stared at him in disbelief, as if he were some mythical creature.
As a seasoned archer, Anguy understood better than anyone just how difficult that shot had been. It wasn't just about skill—it required superior equipment and an unparalleled level of mastery. He was certain that, even with a better bow, he couldn't pull off something like that.
Lynd, unfazed by the attention, simply gestured toward the hourglass. "Not continuing? You're already three birds behind. If you don't hurry, you'll run out of time."
Snapped out of his daze, Anguy gritted his teeth and focused. Though he knew he was hopelessly outmatched, he refused to give up. He nocked arrow after arrow, firing with precision. By the time the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass, he had loosed sixteen shots.
But not a single one had found its mark.
Because every single arrow Anguy shot was intercepted by Lynd. And each time, Lynd's arrow not only cut down Anguy's shot but also continued its flight, taking down three storm-petrels in a single strike—each one pierced cleanly through the head.
As soon as the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass, the sailor acting as the referee eagerly announced the results. "The match is over! Lyi fired seventeen arrows and hit fifty-one birds. Anguy fired seventeen arrows and hit none. Lyi wins!"
The gathered spectators erupted in chatter, crowding around Lynd to praise his incredible marksmanship. Even the ship's captain, drawn by the commotion, emerged from his cabin. After hearing what had happened, he immediately expressed his willingness to hire Lynd for a high-paying, long-term contract.
On the other side, Anguy looked a little deflated, but not exactly frustrated. Instead, his expression carried a hint of relief. Without a word, he suddenly raised his bow and loosed an arrow skyward—an instinctive, almost careless shot.
This time, without Lynd's interference, the arrow shot straight into the sky and, with pinpoint accuracy, pierced through five birds before finally falling into the sea.
Lynd, still surrounded by the crowd, took note of this. He understood that rather than breaking Anguy's confidence, their contest had the opposite effect—it had forced him past his limits, unlocking a potential that had been developing slowly. The pressure had sharpened his skill significantly.
Judging from that last shot, if they had been using identical bows, and if Lynd hadn't relied on the power of the dragon runes, he might not have been able to intercept Anguy's arrows as easily as he had before.
"Fair is fair. I lost the bet. I'm your man now." Anguy slung his bow over his back and pushed through the onlookers, stepping up to Lynd. "So, what should I call you? Boss? Master?"
"Call me 'Lord,'" Lynd replied, his voice steady.
"Lord?" Anguy blinked, then let out a laugh. "Didn't expect my luck to be this good—ending up in the service of a noble."
The surrounding mercenaries exchanged glances, some of them clearly envious. For men like them, being recognized by a noble and taken into service was one of the best outcomes they could hope for.
As for the revelation that Lynd was a noble, it didn't come as much of a shock. Many Westerosi nobles traveled through the Free Cities, the most famous of them being Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. Lynd was simply another among their ranks.
Even so, none of the other mercenaries tried to push their luck by asking Lynd to take them in as well. His contest with Anguy had made it clear—none of them were even close to being qualified. Rather than humiliate themselves, they held back.
The ship's captain, upon learning that Lynd was a noble, subtly adjusted his attitude. He no longer pressed to hire him and even arranged for Lynd to have a small private cabin in the hold, sparing him from having to endure the sun and rain on deck like the other mercenaries.
With that, the ship returned to its usual routine. As on the previous days, the fleet sailed until evening, then docked in a sheltered bay for the night, waiting for daylight to continue their journey.
...
Deep into the night, a sharp blast from a horn shattered the quiet, waking everyone aboard.
It took only a moment for them to realize—they were under attack. Pirates.
Shouts and hurried footsteps rang out as everyone grabbed their weapons and rushed to the deck.
In the moonlight, they could see four or five longships speeding toward them across the water. Even at a distance, it was clear that each vessel carried at least a dozen pirates.
The captains of the convoy reacted immediately, ordering the ships to cluster together. Pre-prepared planks were hauled out and fastened between the decks, connecting the vessels into a single defensive position.
Lynd stood by the railing, watching the fast-approaching pirate ships. Then, with a glance at Anguy, he smirked.
"Another round?" he asked. "Let's see who kills more pirates."
Anguy grinned. "You're on." Without hesitation, he drew and loosed his first arrow, launching it straight at the enemy.
A distant scream confirmed the hit.
Lynd chuckled, pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it to the bowstring.