Chapter 209: Kraznys's Conspiracy
The meeting of the Good Masters broke up quickly, and Instructor Fehmar made his way up to the rooftop garden of the Great Pyramid belonging to Kraznys mo Nakloz.
"What did the others say?" he asked.
"Blind fools, every last one of them." Kraznys didn't answer directly, but his expression and his tone said everything. Two slave girls fanned him from behind and he was still sweating through his robes.
"They're against the deal?"
"Three out of seven are flat-out opposed. Two more say they need time to think it over." Kraznys wiped his forehead. "The only ones standing with me are my old friend Grazdan mo Kerviz and one other — and that other one only supports it because he's already imagining himself as the dragonlord! Half the Unsullied in this city flow through my family, and he thinks he's going to ride a dragon?" His voice climbed. "Can't they see what this means for Astapor? We could rebuild the Ghiscari Empire. We could reclaim everything. And they're sitting there quibbling over who benefits most?"
Fehmar kept his expression neutral. He could work out exactly what the other Good Masters were thinking without much effort. Reviving the Ghiscari Empire was an appealing idea in the abstract — but not if Kraznys sat on the throne at the end of it. The man was arrogant, impulsive, and impossible to work alongside. The other Good Masters would sooner maintain the status quo than hand him that kind of elevation. If Fehmar hadn't been born into the Nakloz family, he wouldn't have chosen to be in the same room as Kraznys either.
"My lord," Fehmar said, steering toward the reason he'd actually come up here, "Ian Darryl has rented a hall from the Temple of the Graces for this evening. He's hosting a banquet for twenty-two senior Unsullied instructors — myself included. Word is it'll be a serious affair."
"What does he want with a bunch of instructors?"
"Think about it, my lord. If the deal had gone through yesterday, every one of us would be training troops exclusively for him for the next two years. It's not strange at all that he'd want to build goodwill with us in advance." Fehmar kept his patience. "He doesn't know the other Good Masters are blocking it. As far as he's aware, you gave him your word, and he's acting on the assumption that you'll deliver."
"But I can't deliver if those stubborn idiots won't budge."
"Perhaps we don't need to convince them," Fehmar said, lowering his voice. "We only need to make sure they can't object."
Kraznys stared at him. "What in the seven hells does that mean? How do you stop someone from objecting without convincing them?"
"My lord." Fehmar leaned slightly forward. "Think past today. Once this deal closes and you have a bonded dragon — your dragon, combined with our Unsullied — you could bring Yunkai, Meereen, and New Ghis to heel within a decade. You could rebuild the capital. You would be Emperor. At that point, what right does any Good Master have to question your decisions? An Emperor's word is law."
"That's all well and good," Kraznys said slowly, "but I'm not Emperor yet. And I can't become Emperor if those seven won't get out of my way."
For a man with a reputation for recklessness, Kraznys at least understood that you couldn't use a title you didn't have yet to bully people into giving it to you.
"Then we remove the obstacle." Fehmar's tone went flat and hard. "No one stops House Nakloz from taking what belongs to it."
Kraznys went very still. "You're talking about killing them."
"If they leave us no other choice."
"That's — you can't be serious." But even as he said it, his eyes were alive with something. He wanted Fehmar to tell him it was possible. "I control half the Unsullied in the city, but if I start an internal war, the other Good Masters combine their halves against me. We'd be destroying our own product. There'd be nothing left to trade Ian for the dragon."
"Which is exactly why the Unsullied can't be part of it." Fehmar had clearly already thought this through. "We don't prevent the Unsullied from fighting — we prevent the other Good Masters' Unsullied from fighting."
"Explain."
"We tell Ian we've run into complications with the full deal. We offer him a partial arrangement — he buys eight thousand Unsullied now, takes delivery, and temporarily moves them out of the city. That's consistent with normal trading practice. No one will think twice about it. The six hundred remaining in Astapor will all be our men.
Once Ian's eight thousand are clear of the city and only our six hundred remain, we move. Call a meeting of the Good Masters — a routine session, nothing unusual about the invitation. Once they're all together, we take them. The city guard is no match for six hundred Unsullied. I can have the situation controlled inside half a day.
Then we bring Ian back, return whatever deposit he's put down, and proceed with the original agreement exactly as you described it to him. Except at that point, you're the sole master of Astapor. There's no one left to object."
Kraznys's expression had moved through shock, consideration, and was now settling somewhere close to excitement — though he kept enough of his composure to ask the practical question.
"Ian would have to cooperate with this. At least the first part of it. Would he?"
"There's no real cost to him. He gets the army he came for. You get the dragon you want. And going forward he only has to deal with one master in Astapor instead of eight, which saves him considerable trouble. I think I can bring him around." Fehmar paused. "Tonight, at his banquet. Give me tonight."
"Then go. Go tonight and close it."
After leaving the Nakloz pyramid, Fehmar turned down a side street and found Celia waiting at a quiet inn table near the back.
"Kraznys is on board," she said, reading his face before he sat down.
"Exactly as you expected." Fehmar settled into his chair. "Don't forget what you promised me in return." He slid a folded list across the table.
"You have my word, Instructor Fehmar." Celia took the list without unfolding it.
Fehmar held her gaze for a moment, then gave a short nod, pushed back his chair, and was gone around the corner before she'd finished reaching for her wine.
Celia drained the cup in one pull — it was a rough Astapori red, nothing special — then drew a small leather notebook from inside her vest and put a neat line through the entry that read maneuver Kraznys into position.
She turned the page. The list of remaining tasks was long.
She still needed to win over the instructors on Fehmar's list, stage whatever demonstration Ian intended to use to secure the loyalty of the skilled workers they were bringing in, scout the resource potential of the surrounding territory, and assess which crops the land along the Worm River could realistically support at scale. Being pressed for time didn't mean abandoning the fundamentals — even a small agricultural operation, properly chosen and concentrated, could generate real value within a year. The mistake most people made was spreading themselves too thin. Pick the right ground and go deep on it.
That kind of judgment — knowing where to focus — was where Celia's experience genuinely exceeded Ian's. He knew it, and she knew he knew it.
She closed the notebook and stood up.
She didn't mind the workload. If anything, the longer her task list, the more secure her position. Nobody cuts loose the person holding half the operation together. As long as Ian kept assigning her work she couldn't be easily replaced, she was safe. The day his assignments stopped coming would be the day she'd actually need to start worrying.
(End of Chapter)
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