Spies

Jon was seated on a large wooden chair in a grand hall in his mansion. His seat was positioned at the front of the hall on a raised platform. Standing behind him were Sylvia and Jelerion, to his right and left respectively.

Around fifteen Supreme Shadows, Jon's personal guard, carefully selected by Freydron, stood in various positions throughout the hall, alert and watchful.

In front of Jon sat roughly fifty women between the ages of twenty and thirty-five, arranged on wooden benches. Their faces bore a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Excitement, because from among countless women who had volunteered at Lord Aeos' request, they were the ones that had been chosen.

Nervousness, because they were now seated before the very man they regarded as their saviour. What exactly were they required to do, they were unaware of it as of now.

These women had once been slave prostitutes of Astapor. The majority had been forced into prostitution at a young age. The conditions they had endured had been horrific. The treatment from their owners and customers had been inhumane. They had lived lives of relentless pain and misery.

But after Jon took control of Astapor, he had put a hold on prostitution. Their miser had been ended.

In the past twenty days, under fear of his wrath, these women had received good treatment from their owners. Three meals a day, proper clothing, and all their basic needs were finally met.

So, when Jon had asked for volunteers, around fifty women—for an unspecified work, nearly every prostitute came forward.

After a series of intense tests including reading, writing, quick learning assessments, as well as acting and communication evaluations these fifty had been selected.

And now they sat before Jon, waiting to learn what their task would be. Jon rose from his seat, and despite being only around sixteen years of age, many hearts fluttered at the sight. Many wondered if they would be called to please their lord?

"Firstly, I would like to thank all of you," Jon began. "Both those who have been selected here, and all those who volunteered at my request but were not selected."

He continued, "Now that we have our fifty candidates, it is time I tell you about the work that is expected of you."

"But before I go into details, let me assure you of two things," Jon continued.

"Firstly, after hearing the nature of this work, if you wish to withdraw, you are free to leave without any fear of consequence."

He paused, letting his words sink in, then added, "Secondly, if you choose to continue, you will all be paid handsomely."

The hall was utterly still. No one even dared to breathe too loudly, afraid of missing a single word.

Jon went on, "Now, for the work itself what I want from you is to serve as my eyes and ears. My medium of intelligence. My spies."

The shock was visible. Many of the women had quietly feared they had been chosen to work in some sort of exclusive brothels. None had imagined this.

"I see many of you are surprised," Jon said, his voice steady. "Indeed, this is dangerous work. I cannot lie about that."

"But I assure you, every precaution will be taken to keep you all safe."

His authoritative tone resonated through the hall.

"I will give you all some time now to make your decisions," he said. "If you wish to leave, you may do so. If you wish to stay, simply remain seated."

With that, Jon sat down again, his calm gaze sweeping over the women. The hall was silent for a few moments before soft murmurs began. The women whispered among themselves, trying to decide.

Jon waited patiently. Then after a few minutes, he stood once more.

"I hope you have all reached your decisions," he said. "Those who wish to leave, you may go."

A few women visibly hesitated. Seeing this, Jon smiled slightly.

"Truly, you need not fear," he reassured. "I promise you. There will be no repercussions. You can leave freely."

Hearing this, seven women rose hurriedly and left. Perhaps they felt too indebted to Jon to even meet his eyes.

Jon nodded in satisfaction. Forty-three remained.

He clapped his hands lightly, and at once the Supreme Shadows left the hall. The heavy doors closed behind them.

Jon stepped down from the platform and walked between the two rows of benches.

"Ladies," he said, "especially those as practiced in the arts of seduction as you are have a very high chance of making powerful men drop their guards and reveal their secrets. After all, nearly the entire male population of Essos and Westeros are whoresons at heart."

A few of the women giggled at this.

Jon continued, "Every one of you is undoubtedly beautiful. Wherever you are sent, you will pose as elite courtesans, exclusive and costly. Available only to the rich and powerful."

"A small retinue of maids and guards will accompany you to uphold your image. But be assured, none of them will know your true purpose," he said.

"How to extract information, what questions to ask, what signs to look for, I will teach you all of that myself."

At this, most of the women turned crimson. Even so, they understood common whores like them would otherwise never come so close to their king.

Jon went on, "The biggest reason spies are caught in their field of work, is the way they send their messages. The chain of intermediaries makes exposure almost inevitable. Too many people know about them and it has a high chance of failure."

"But with me, there will be no such risk. None of you will ever need to rely on any messenger. Each of you will report directly to me. Personally."

The women exchanged bewildered looks. How could that be possible?

Their questions were abruptly answered. A gentle breeze swirled into the hall from the high windows. Moments later, birds of various kinds began fluttering in, perching on the women's shoulders, one bird on each side.

"You will communicate with me through them," Jon declared.

The hall filled with stunned silence and then a rush of awe. Jon Aeos truly was not like any man they had ever known.

#

#

#

[Add the book to your collection. Send it some power stones. Leave a rating and a review.]

[Access advanced chapter on P@treon. Replace @ with a]

p@treon.com/imaginarywriter