Year 290 AC. Essos. Slaver's Bay. Astapor.
"It's good that they finally agreed to receive us in the morning. Before the heat gets too bad, we can inspect the Unsullied. And when the midday sun arrives, I'll already be poking around inside one of their pyramids," Zirarro na Zakloz shared his thoughts.
I gave a quiet snort, conceding the point to my captain. He'd managed to complain about the heat a dozen times on the voyage to Astapor. And this is a Ghiscari, who has lived his entire life in Essos! The man had one brief exposure to the cool climate of the Treasure Isle, where I acquired the dragon eggs, and now he can't tolerate the heat of his homeland. Perhaps I should send him North? As an envoy to the Giant tribes, for instance... though, no, if the Ghiscari heard that assignment, he would surely think I was trying to be rid of him.
Smiling at my own thoughts, I swept my gaze over the walls of Astapor once more.
It was undeniably a stunning sight. Thousands of tons of sandstone formed a thick, fifteen-meter barrier that had protected the city's inhabitants from Dothraki raids for centuries. It was the work of generations of slaves who were born, lived, and died on the construction site. According to the chronicles, it took about seventy years to build, with the city being erected inside it simultaneously. I dread to imagine how many resources the Ghiscari Empire spent on this city. And yet, Slaver's Bay has Meereen and Yunkai as well! Yes, they will become an excellent foundation for my Empire.
The city gates, closed for the night, began to open slowly, causing a stir among the merchants, sellswords, and travelers who had been waiting for this moment.
Glancing behind me, I took in our procession with myself, mounted on a white charger, at the head. A hundred of my best Praetorians, twenty sworn knights—mostly Riverlanders distinguished by their training and strength in the recent battles. I was also accompanied by Willem Darry with a dozen veteran Unsullied and Zirarro.
My personal mentor and most loyal companion, Willem, was chatting with the elderly Unsullied, his teeth flashing in a merry grin. He had completely shaved his head and grown a magnificent beard, making him look like some sort of boyar from centuries past. All he lacked was a great fur cap. Never mind, I'll buy him one when we reach the Seven Kingdoms. The winters in Westeros are cold. He'll walk around in a sable coat and cap, smoothly stroking his beard.
"Willem, stop smiling with such anticipation! You'll frighten our dear sellers!" Zirarro called out, which was met with a chorus of laughter.
Focusing on the relaxed faces of the ten veteran Unsullied who accompanied us, I nodded contentedly and turned away. These men were one of the most important elements of the plan. They were bought Centurions and even one Chiliarch of the Unsullied, sold to me only because of their age. Over the past year, they had been greatly beneficial in training the new recruits. But today, they were needed for a different purpose. Today, they would be battle commanders. Who better than them to know how to swiftly seize command of the other battle-eunuchs at the crucial moment?
Under Darry's leadership, they would become the anvil upon which the Burning Legion's hammer would strike. The city guard and the personal protection of the Masters of Astapor would be crushed and shattered.
"They're coming," Zirarro exhaled, sitting on his bay horse, forcing a friendly smile onto his face while subtly checking the chainmail hidden beneath his brightly colored ruha.
A procession of about a dozen people, clad in bright garments, rode out from the gates to meet us.
They soon rode up, scattering in greetings thickly laced with flattery, and led us into the city. I didn't even bother to remember their names. Why should I know the names of men who would soon be corpses?
The city was impressive. Wide streets were lush with greenery, the elegant houses covered in frescos and ornaments were pleasing to the eye, and the pyramids towered over the rest of Astapor like mountains above a flourishing valley.
The common people were nowhere to be seen; all the adjacent streets were cordoned off by guards, surely so that the smallfolk wouldn't get in the way of the esteemed buyers' horses.
Reaching a large arena, which was an almost exact replica of the Colosseum, we rode inside, leaving most of the Praetorians to guard the entrances.
"Welcome to Astapor, Viserys of House Targaryen! I, Kraznys mo Nakloz, greet you, dear friend!" a man in robes no less fine than my own greeted me in Valyrian.
Dismounting from my horse, I approached the Ghiscari and politely replied.
"And I greet you, Kraznys mo Nakloz!" Turning, I gestured toward the precise squares of the drawn-up Unsullied. "I hope that thanks to your merchandise, I will soon be able to receive you in King's Landing just as warmly, as a host welcomes an esteemed guest!" I smiled at the Ghiscari, who looked exactly as he had been depicted in the show.
"In that, you can rely on the spears and shields of the Unsullied," the Ghiscari motioned for me to follow him, laced his hands behind his back, and walked along the rows of battle-slaves, whose helmets and long spearheads gleamed. "I know that great army is yours, which has been guests at the walls of our beautiful city for so long. Together with your new fearless and pain-immune slaves, who can be sent into the most dangerous parts of the battlefield, you will conquer the Sunset Kingdoms and achieve glory akin to Aegon the Conqueror!" Kraznys gushed like a nightingale.
"I know you are a very wealthy and powerful man, so I have no doubt of your solvency." The slave trader turned to me and flourished a whip topped with a golden Harpy. "I think fifty thousand gold dragons will be quite sufficient."
I nearly gaped at that statement, only then remembering that it was customary here to inflate the price sky-high and then bargain down to an amount acceptable to both buyer and seller.
"Forty thousand gold dragons. I have the Iron Bank draft with me," I countered.
Yes, Braavos, where the Iron Bank's main branch was located, forbade slavery and even occasionally sponsored slave revolts in the other Free Cities, but this certainly didn't stop it from actively and gladly working with slave traders. What could the bankers do when almost all of Essos was selling, buying, and breeding these very slaves? They simply couldn't turn a blind eye to that river of gold flowing right under their noses.
"Out of respect and personal liking for you alone, my dear friend, forty-eight thousand." The Ghiscari nobleman's eyes glittered as he got down to the business of his life—trading.
"Forty-two thousand, and a year's contract with a thousand of the Burning Legion's best legionaries at half the reduced price. I hear you are assembling a large trade expedition into the lands of the Golden Empire. My warriors will be excellent guards."
"Forty-five thousand, and a contract at one-third the reduced price with one of the legions in its entirety." Pondering for a moment, Kraznys smiled contentedly and darted a look at the group of Masters who were waiting for us in the shade by a table with wine and fruit.
"I agree. But add that little girl to the contract, too," I waved toward the small Missandei, who was currently serving wine to one of the aristocrats.
I could not fail to recognize the future best friend of Daenerys from the series. And even though I had no intention of paying the Ghiscari anything, I would still take the girl. She would be a handmaiden-companion to my sister. I must remember to write her a writ of manumission.
Looking in the direction I indicated, the Ghiscari glanced back at me in confusion.
"Done." Shaking the hand the Ghiscari extended, I unrolled the scroll that a quick-witted servant had brought to the small table.
Filling out the document, I handed it to Kraznys, receiving in return the coveted whip topped with the Harpy. To its owner, all the Unsullied standing in the arena would now serve.
Turning, I surveyed the battle-slaves standing and awaiting orders.
"I and all the Masters of Astapor have prepared a grand feast in honor of your arrival..." Kraznys began, but then fell silent, as if the words had lodged in his throat.
My sword slipped from its scabbard with a quiet whisper, as did the swords of all my men.
"Act." Handing the whip to Willem, who had just walked up, I turned back to the frozen Kraznys and glanced towards the other Masters, who were now surrounded by Praetorians.
"Masters of Astapor! I, Viserys Targaryen, declare myself ruler of all Slaver's Bay! Kneel and submit! And whoever opposes me... Fire and Blood!" I announced thunderously, spreading my arms wide.
"Fire and Blood!"
"Fire and Blood!"
"Fire and Blood!" the Praetorians roared in support.
And the next moment, the deafening roar of a dragon sounded above the city. Some Masters fell to their knees; others perished, drawing their blades along with their guards. Willem Darry and the dozen veteran Unsullied issued commands to my new warriors, who had already begun moving towards the arena exits.
And I smiled, watching the grown-up Avero circle in the sky above the city and utter a joyful roar.
"It seems my merchandise was bought in the Ironborn tradition. With iron and fire," Kraznys said with a mixture of apprehension, delight, and disappointment in his voice, looking at the dragon frolicking in the air.
"Surrender, Kraznys mo Nakloz. Surrender and hasten to your pyramid under the protection of my Praetorians. They have the necessary papers and will protect you and your family. Swear an oath of fealty to me, and you may save your House," I offered.
Although one of my first decrees would be to outlaw the production of the Unsullied, since castrating little boys and raising them as they do in the ranks of the Unsullied is truly an abomination and barbarism, Kraznys himself would be useful to me. There is no place for squeamishness in politics and governance. And this man was undeniably a very skilled merchant, politician, and schemer. No one else could have cornered almost the entire trade in Unsullied without causing a mass slaughter in Astapor. He will be a magnificent assistant in the governance of Slaver's Bay. The main thing is to assign him 'protection' made up of my own men.
Studying my face with a long, scrutinizing gaze, the Ghiscari nodded with dignity. "You have a dragon, legions, and now you have the Unsullied. But you want to conquer the Bay, not Westeros. Why?"
Sending Avero a signal via the magical channel to land, I replied:
"Why settle for little if you are capable of taking much?"
"I understand you, my... King?" Stammering, the Ghiscari spoke the title my ancestors who ruled the Seven Kingdoms had worn.
Waving my hand, I summoned one of the Decurions of the Praetorian guard and pointed towards the Ghiscari, who was quick-witted and making the right decisions. The Decurion nodded understandingly, comprehending the silent order, and began to assemble his men.
Looking into Kraznys's worried eyes, I thought for a moment, then cast aside all doubts and shook my head.
At that moment, Avero landed behind me with a crash, and with a menacing growl, offered his now quite large head for a caress.
Running my hand over the scaly, hot skin, I answered:
"Emperor. Viserys the First, Ruler of the Valyrian Empire, sounds much better than King."
Eyes wide with shock and glancing with awe at the dragon behind me, Kraznys hastened to bow low.
"Undoubtedly, Your Majesty."
Waving my hand at Darry, I turned and strode toward Avero's back. The saddle had been made in New Ghis; I had no intention of flying like Daenerys on the bare, spine-covered back of a dragon.
My sword returned to its scabbard, still unused, and a moment later, I was in the saddle. The restraint locks clicked, and I sent a mental command.
With a roar, Avero pushed off the arena sand with his clawed feet and flapped his mighty wings, rising into the sky.
From a bird's-eye view, the city lay at my feet. The snaking columns of Unsullied squads were already pushing through the streets, sweeping away the guards and moving to storm the pyramids. In the northern part of the city, the legionaries, in conjunction with the disgraced Astapori aristocrats who had entered into a conspiracy with me, were already dominant.
With a gut-shaking roar that filled my soul with a sort of childish delight, the dragon flew along the walls, dousing the city guard, who had begun firing, with clouds of flame.
Today, the streets of Astapor will exchange their sandy attire for scarlet.
————
Read ahead of schedule here → pat-reon(.)c-om/Bluuuxx [remove the parentheses and hyphen]