Chapter 736

A Faceless Man… Jaqen H’ghar!?

This was not entirely unexpected. The possibility had been accounted for in Aegor’s initial invasion plans. Orders were swiftly relayed, and without hesitation, the fleet adjusted its course. Sails furled, anchors plunged into the depths, and the once-advancing warships slowed to a halt.

Only Jaqen seemed genuinely surprised by this reaction. “Commander, the Titan of Braavos is the city’s most recognizable landmark. Its political, military, and cultural significance is beyond measure. To destroy it so unceremoniously…”

Aegor’s brow twitched at the casual use of Commander. He had not heard that title in months. His eyes flicked to Jaqen’s face—unchanged. The same as when they had parted in King’s Landing. Even his attire was the same, the black uniform that Aegor himself had once provided. It was as if Jaqen had merely taken leave for a few days—vanished into Braavos on a quick errand and returned without a wrinkle or mark of time.

Strange.

Aegor quickly pieced it together: Jaqen was—technically speaking—a soldier of the Night’s Watch logistics corps. One of the founding members, even. When he had left, he had not vanished without a word—he had entered Aegor’s chamber in the dead of night and formally requested leave. By the letter of the law, he was no deserter. Simply… on extended leave.

“Welcome back, Jaqen.” Aegor forced himself to relax, suppressing the urge to order his guards to check for masks. He sighed. “Aside from returning as a logistics officer, what other identities and missions do you bring with you today?”

Jaqen tilted his head slightly, that same unreadable smile playing on his lips. “Once, perhaps.”

Aegor studied him. The man’s posture was easy, yet the weight of unseen intent pressed in the air between them.

He’s feeling me out.

But so was Aegor.

Jaqen had brought documents.

The first contained detailed layouts of Braavos’s military facilities—an exact match to the intelligence Aegor already possessed, only several magnitudes more precise. The second? The names, faces, and residences of every key member of the ruling Sealord’s Council.

There were only two possibilities.

Either these documents were complete fabrications—unlikely to matter much, as Aegor had no intention of fully trusting the House of Black and White anyway.

Or…

They were authentic. And if that were the case, then the war’s fog of uncertainty over Braavos had just been torn away in an instant.

Jaqen, however, had little interest in subtlety.

He spoke plainly, his voice carrying across the open deck. “The House of Black and White has severed all ties with Braavos’s ruling Sealords. Their defiance of the Lord of Light’s prophecy and their insistence on resisting the Queen’s inevitable reign make their fate clear. Braavos marches toward certain ruin, and we will not be dragged down with it. I am here to offer proof of our sincerity.”

Aegor narrowed his eyes. Interesting.

He gave a slight nod, a sign of temporary acceptance.

We’ll see how this plays out.

He turned his gaze eastward. The Bronze Titan now loomed large on the horizon—so close that its massive, sculpted features were discernible. Almost within artillery range.

Jaqen had provided intelligence, but that alone was not enough. Aegor had another request in mind.

“Well then, Jaqen.” Aegor’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “The House of Black and White wishes to be recognized after the war? That can be arranged. In exchange, I do wonder… could your kind be persuaded to assist in accelerating our victory?”

He smiled.

“Braavos’s military command is still intact. Their officers and strategists continue to direct their defenses. A few well-placed blades in the night could shorten this war significantly, don’t you think?”

Jaqen’s expression did not change. “The Faceless Men are already discarding our false skins and sinking into the city’s shadows. We will aid where we can.” He hesitated, then added, “But… the Sealords have long used us as their weapons, and they have fought alongside the Iron Bank’s special department—the same assassins who once attempted to end your life.”

He shrugged. “They know our tricks. They have prepared countermeasures. And they are guarded by the Moon Singers.”

The Moon Singers—mystics, seers, priests of Braavos’s ancient faith. The last remnants of true sorcery within the Free Cities.

Jaqen exhaled softly. “If the Lord Commander wishes to rely solely upon the House of Black and White, I advise… lowering expectations.”

Aegor’s lips twitched. He wasn’t surprised. He had never intended to stake everything on the Faceless Men. But even a fraction of their assistance could tilt the scales.

He gestured toward the maps and documents.

“I’ll review these when I have the time,” Aegor said evenly. “For now… let’s enjoy the show.” His voice turned colder.

“The fall of the Bronze Titan.”

He turned to his officers.

“Deploy the fleet in a fan formation. Concentrate artillery on the Titan’s foundation—specifically, the stone piers that connect its legs to the reef. We will pound it into the sea.”
----


A nearby officer handed Aegor a long wooden case. He flipped it open, revealing a thick scroll of military intelligence—one last gift from Jaqen.

Melisandre took it with an almost casual air, her fingers gliding over the parchment. A pause. Then, a flicker of satisfaction in her crimson eyes.

No spells. No curses.

Aegor nodded. “Good.”

And yet…

The truth remained that, beyond their merchants and spies, beyond the Iron Bank’s economic reach, Daenerys’s empire had shockingly little intelligence on Braavos.

This war, in many ways, was still a plunge into uncertainty.

Aegor clenched his fist.

Perhaps… this was why he had agreed to meet Jaqen in the open, rather than behind closed doors.

Because, despite all his precautions—despite the layers of armor, the protective wards of R’hllor’s priests, the sheer paranoia that had kept him alive through countless battles…

The reality was starkly simple.

Aegor could not tell if Jaqen H’ghar was lying to him.

He simply had no way of knowing.

And that was what made the Faceless Men truly terrifying.
----


Jaqen did not react as the fleet adjusted formation, ships spreading into a crescent, their iron cannons wheeled into place. He merely stepped aside, arms folded, watching with unreadable eyes.

As if he had known, from the moment he set foot on this deck, that there was no stopping what came next.

The first cannon fired.

Then another.

Then another.

The sea roared with the sound of destruction.

On the horizon, the Bronze Titan, unshaken for centuries, stood against the barrage.

But not for long.