Aegon brought the soaking-wet, shaken middle-aged man into the command cabin aboard the Silence.
Candlelight filled the room. Wooden racks secured to the walls to keep their contents from sliding held nautical charts, tools, and a few books.
Without waiting for a word from Aegon, a Blood Oath Band guard standing nearby took a heavy roll of parchment from a rack. Its edges were yellowed, and a thin cord bound it. He respectfully offered it with both hands.
Aegon accepted it and spread it across the broad oak table in the center.
Lines and annotations gradually came into view across the rough hide.
It was a map of the Lys City-State and its surrounding waters.
"What is your name?" Aegon's gaze remained on the map, his finger tracing the outline of Lys's walls absently, his voice calm.
"Lo... Logaro, my lord," the middle-aged man answered hastily. His voice still trembled faintly from his brush with death, but his eyes were fixed on the map as though it were his last lifeline.
Aegon did not look up. He merely tapped the area marking the Lys City-State with a fingertip.
"Come here. Tell me everything you know about the city's current defenses, patrol routines, and troop deployments, especially where the elite troops are stationed."
"Leave nothing out, and exaggerate nothing."
"Yes, my lord!" Logaro all but lunged toward the table. His rough fingers, still wet, pointed urgently at the map. "Here, along the eastern wall, near the old harbor district. There are usually about five hundred men stationed along this stretch."
"But they're all auxiliary troops with terrible equipment. All they have are matching surcoats and short swords."
He spoke quickly, but his account remained reasonably orderly as his finger moved across the map. "Patrols inside the city mainly concentrate on the