"My Lord, do you truly intend to take upon yourself the mantle of the Hand?"
Ser Barristan Selmy looked across the cedar table, his voice thick with a mixture of surprise and wary hope. Since his arrival in Meereen, Eddard Karstark had been an enigma. Aside from the explosive act of releasing the dragons, the "Winter Wizard" had largely kept to his quarters, his iron-clad Northmen acting more like statues than an occupying force. For a man who could command dragons and break blockades, his lack of political ambition had been unsettling.
Now, that had changed.
"No," Eddard replied, shaking his head. The light from the high windows caught the smooth, hairless skin of his scalp, giving him the appearance of a stern, ancient monk. "I have no interest in being a servant to your Queen. I simply have no interest in seeing Meereen become a city of flies and rot."
He looked around the table, his grey-blue eyes pinning each commander in turn. "Do any of you know how the Pale Mare, the bloody flux actually moves from one man to the next?"
Silence met his question. These were men of the sword, the spear, and the pit. They knew the flux was a curse. They knew that if a man began to leak blood and bile, you drove him into the desert to die alone. Beyond that, they were as ignorant as the peasants in the streets. Even the Archmaesters of the Citadel back in Westeros could only theorize about "bad humors" and "vile mists."
"As I thought," Eddard sighed. "I will not waste my breath lecturing you on the transmission of viruses. I will only say this: controlling the Pale Mare is a harder battle than the one we fought last night. If you do not cooperate, if you play games with my orders, we are all dead. Meereen will be a tomb of gold and bone."
Eddard stood up, his height and the radiance of his Sunburst-embroidered robe creating an overwhelming sense of pressure. "If you want to survive, you listen to me. If you want to play at being Masters and Kings, I will take my fleet back to Cedar Island tonight and leave you to your flies."
"Lord Eddard," Skahaz mo Kandaq, the Shavepue, spoke from behind his locust mask. "You are a traveler here. Why do you care if the Harpy chokes on her own blood?"
"Because I want an alliance with your Queen," Eddard said, his voice level. "And a Queen of a graveyard is of no use to me."
His true motivation remained hidden. Eddard needed Daenerys to remain the Queen of Slaver's Bay. If she had a functioning, prosperous city to rule, she would be less likely to chase the Iron Throne, a chair that would only bring civil war to a Westeros already struggling to face the Long Night. He wanted her dragons for the Wall, not for the Red Keep.
"I have already mastered Viserion," Eddard continued, glancing at Skahaz. "But one dragon is not enough for the threat that is coming."
"Trouble in Westeros?" Barristan asked. "The War of the Five Kings is done, is it not?"
"The war of men is done," Eddard said, looking Barristan in the eye. "The war of the dead has begun. The White Walkers are marching, Ser Barristan. Thousands of corpses that do not sleep, do not eat, and cannot be killed by common steel. They bring a winter that never ends."
The Audience Chamber went cold. Barristan's mouth fell open, his aged face pale with shock. To a man raised on the legends of the Age of Heroes, the mention of the Others was like hearing a ghost story come to life.
"The... the Others? Legends for children," Barristan whispered, though his eyes betrayed his doubt.
"The legends have returned," Eddard stated.
The weight of Eddard's conviction and his proven ability to punch a dragon into submission made the council believe. If a man could tame fire, perhaps he knew what lurked in the ice.
"No more questions," Skahaz declared, rubbing his scarred head. "If your orders are for the city, the Brazen Beasts will follow."
"The Unsullied will assist," Grey Worm added. "The Queen's children must not ride the Pale Mare."
Jorah Mormont and "Scarback" Symon nodded in grim agreement. The mercenaries, however, had a different plan.
"Give the Windblown our supplies and we leave," the Ragged Prince said. "We will search for the Queen in the Dothraki Sea. We won't stay in a plague-pit."
Brown Ben Plumm and Daario Naharis echoed the sentiment. They were opportunists; they could fight men, but they wouldn't fight a virus. Eddard watched them leave with a faint smile. He wanted the fickle sellswords out of the city anyway.
"Very well," Eddard said, turning back to the loyalists. "The transition is complete. I have the final say. Jorah, take your men and burn the corpses outside the walls. My 'Winter Guards' will show you how to do it without catching the flux. Masks on, always."
"Scarback, seize the port. No one enters or leaves without my Maester's seal."
"Lord Skahaz, martial law begins now. No one leaves their homes. Food and waste will be handled by centralized squads once a day. If anyone - slave or Master, defies the order, the first time is ten lashes. The second time is a head on a pike. Do you understand?"
"Even the Great Masters?" Skahaz asked, a hungry light in his eyes.
"Especially them," Eddard replied.
As the commanders hurried to fulfill their tasks, only Barristan and Grey Worm remained. Eddard turned to the Unsullied commander. "Grey Worm, gather two thousand men. We are going to the Pyramid of Pahl."
"The Pahl family?" Barristan's brow furrowed. "What is there?"
"The Harpies," Eddard said, his voice turning to ice. "While you were fighting Yunkai, the Pahl Masters were in a secret room, plotting to murder me, rescue Hizdahr, and kill the dragons. I'm going to end them before they can draw a breath."
"You have evidence? A trial?" Barristan asked, horrified.
"I am a King, Ser Barristan, not a judge," Eddard said, walking toward the door. "I don't need a trial to kill a snake in my bed. I'm taking the infamy so your Queen can stay 'Mhysa.' She won't have to get her hands dirty. I'll be the butcher she eventually 'drives away' to satisfy your sense of honor. It's a perfect arrangement."
"Lord Eddard, this is a massacre!"
"It's a sanitation project," Eddard corrected, baring his teeth in a terrifying grin. "Grey Worm, are the men ready?"
"They are ready," Grey Worm said.
"Then let's go clean the city."
[System Notification: Political Status: Dictator of Meereen (Emergency Powers).]
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
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