Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Despite her deep disdain for the slave trade of the Ghiscari, Dany, coming from a modern society, couldn't deny that their architectural achievements were unparalleled.

Before entering the pyramid, she had assumed its inner stone halls would be dark, damp, foul-smelling, and cramped.

To her surprise, the top-floor reception hall was vast, spanning 200 square meters. The ceiling, supported by massive stone columns, was adorned with brightly colored murals. The slanted walls featured bright glass windows, and breezes carried the fragrance of flowers and fruit from the upper courtyard through concealed ventilation shafts into the hall.

Cool, refreshing, bright, luxurious, and immaculate—this was no mere hall but a magnificent palace!

At the head of the room sat eight large wooden chairs, occupied by eight stocky, corpulent Ghiscari men with amber-colored skin, wide noses, dark eyes, and black-and-red stiff hair. For a moment, Dany nearly thought Kraznys had mastered the art of creating shadow clones.

Thankfully, their tokar robes differed.

In Astapor, only free men were allowed to wear tokar robes.

The style was also popular among the Ghiscari in Meereen and Yunkai, while in Qarth, women wore a variation called "Qartheen robes."

The Qartheen robe resembled a sleeveless gown with one shoulder strap cut, whereas the Ghiscari tokar was more like a ceremonial accessory than clothing—a luxurious fabric draped over one shoulder, with the hem tucked at the waist on the opposite side. The wearer had to hold the garment in place to prevent it from slipping off.

The tassels on the tokar signified the wearer's status.

In the cool reception hall, the senior-most master and the host, Grazdan, had tassels adorned with large white pearls. Kraznys and five others displayed gold-thread tassels, while the slave owners on the sides wore silver-threaded ones.

With Missandei's soft whispers guiding her, Dany finally completed the customary greetings with the eight merchants.

Behind Grazdan stood six servants, while the other masters each had two or three slaves attending to them.

After the greetings, Grazdan's slaves brought over two purplewood chairs for Dany, noticeably lower than the ones the masters used.

Dany's party included Ser Barristan, Davos, Jorah, three bloodriders, Jhiqui, Irri, and Euron.

Doreah and Qotho had stayed aboard the ship to guard the three dragons.

"Your Grace, the master said the other chair is for Ser Euron," Missandei whispered.

The young girl seemed slightly uneasy around Euron, whose face was marred with burn scars. She didn't dare meet his gaze, but Euron, ever roguish, flashed her a mischievous smile.

Once Dany and Euron were seated, Grazdan addressed them in slightly broken Common Tongue. "Westerosi, why do you seek to purchase so many Unsullied? In addition to 8,600 fully trained soldiers, we have 5,000 eunuchs still in training."

"Master Grazdan, are you aware of the current situation in Westeros?" Dany replied with a question of her own.

"I hear it is chaotic, with several kings fighting over an iron chair covered in spikes," Grazdan mocked.

"Each of those factions fields at least ten thousand soldiers. Tywin Lannister's wealth is so legendary that even the Qartheen know of it—he once lent the Iron Throne three million gold dragons."

"What? Three million gold dragons? That's nearly ten million Ghiscari gold coins! Enough to buy tens of thousands of Unsullied," one of the masters exclaimed.

"It must be true. They say Duke Tywin's feces are made of gold," another joked.

"Who would've thought those Western savages were so wealthy?"

Even the indulgent masters were astonished and began murmuring amongst themselves.

Dany swept her gaze across the room. "Now you understand, don't you? My enemies are too powerful. Even with 8,600 Unsullied, or an additional 20,000, I am uncertain of reclaiming my kingdom.

In other words, it's not that I wish to purchase 13,600 eunuch soldiers; it's that you have only 13,600 to sell me."

Her logic was irrefutable, leaving the eight masters momentarily speechless.

Even in their arrogance, they dared not claim that 8,000 Unsullied could conquer the Seven Kingdoms.

It was simply impossible.

"We cannot sell boys who have not completed their training," one of the silver-tasseled Grazdans interjected.

"We are slave traders. If the customer pays, why shouldn't we sell?" countered a gold-tasseled master.

Another Grazdan sneered. "They haven't killed infants yet; they are not true Unsullied. If they perform poorly on the battlefield, it will damage our reputation.

Moreover, she's not our only buyer. Many others are waiting for their orders. Training Unsullied takes at least ten years; if we sell them all, Astapor will face a decade-long gap in supply.

Ten years! By then, the world might forget the Unsullied even exist."

Seeing hesitation in the pearl-tasseled Grazdan's expression, Dany raised her voice. "Masters, may I ask you one question?"

"What is it?" Kraznys responded.

"Am I not the largest customer in Astapor's history?"

"Not quite," the pearl-tasseled Grazdan replied after some thought. "About 2,000 years ago, a trade dispute between Valyria and the Rhoynar led to a war of annihilation.

At the start of the conflict, the proud Valyrians underestimated the Rhoynar, sending only a handful of dragonlords.

Prince Garin of the Rhoynar assembled a massive army of 250,000, accompanied by powerful water wizards. Valyria's force of 100,000 was utterly destroyed, with several dragons slain.

The Rhoynar wizards even summoned a great flood from the Rhoyne River, drowning Velos—one of Valyria's Freeholds—and killing hundreds of thousands."

Seeing that Prince Galing's army was at their doorstep, the people of Volantis were terrified. They immediately placed an order for all our Unsullied—an astounding total of thirty thousand.

Dany, captivated by the tale, momentarily forgot her original purpose and curiously asked, "Did thirty thousand Unsullied fail to defend Volantis?"

If they had succeeded, these slave traders wouldn't constantly boast about "three thousand Unsullied defending Qohor."

The 250,000 Rhoynar, along with water mages proficient in hydromancy, were far superior to the 20,000 primitive, savage horsemen they faced.

A Ghiscari slave master glanced at Dany and said coolly, "If they had failed, would Volantis still exist today? Valyria intervened—300 dragons filled the skies, blocking out the sun. It's said the Rhoyne River was evaporated by dragonfire. How could water mages possibly withstand that?"

It turned out that in that divine and demonic battle, the Unsullied had only played a minor role.

Hmm, just like in Game of Thrones, where the Unsullied barely made an impact during the battle against the White Walkers.

"Ahem, I must be the largest purchaser of Unsullied in nearly a thousand years, right?" Dany asked again.

"So what if you are?"

"The entire world will surely be watching the outcome of my campaign. If I fail to reclaim my throne because I don't have enough Unsullied, and they're crushed by Westerosi knights, how do you think that will reflect on you?"

The slave masters' faces darkened, and a foreboding thought crept into their minds: if Dany failed, the blow to their reputation would be immense—far worse than the tale of "three thousand Unsullied defending Qohor" could ever repair.

"But consider this," Dany continued, "if I succeed, won't the world sing praises of how 'ten thousand Unsullied are unmatched in the world'?"

The slave masters' expressions shifted again, this time to one of delight. A wonderful thought occurred to them: if Dany succeeded, the story of "three thousand Unsullied defending Qohor" could retire, replaced forever by the glorious tale of "thirteen thousand Unsullied conquering the Seven Kingdoms."

"I have dragons and a high likelihood of success. But if I have too few Unsullied, people might think my dragons were the key to victory." Dany smiled slyly.

"Very well!" Grazdan exchanged glances with his seven colleagues and made the final decision. "If you can pay the price, all the eunuchs of Astapor are yours."

"Ser Euron," Dany leaned back in her chair and gestured casually, "it's your turn."

Euron began recounting his experiences—how he sailed across the Smoking Sea, encountered curses, discovered the governor's castle, found dragon eggs and armor, lost his way in the mists, and ultimately broke through the Wall of Storms.

Throughout, the slave masters interjected with questions about routes, the state of Telyria, and more. Euron answered each one thoroughly.

He had indeed ventured into the ruins of Valyria, not merely boasting. No matter how the slave masters pressed him, his answers left them both satisfied and amazed.

"I swear by the Drowned God and the honor of House Greyjoy that the map I've drawn is genuine," Euron solemnly vowed to the slave masters.

"You're a pirate. Does your oath even mean anything?" someone questioned skeptically.

Dany explained, "Perhaps you don't understand the teachings of the Drowned God. According to legend, the Drowned God created the Ironborn to pillage and plunder. To earn wealth through honest means would be to defy their ancient traditions and divine beliefs."

"You know quite a bit," Euron said, a strange glint flashing in his blue eye.

Dany was correct—except for one crucial detail.

Euron was a heretic.

Though he was an Ironborn, he did not worship the Drowned God. Instead, he had repeatedly performed blood sacrifices to the Drowned God's nemesis—the Storm God.

Euron's ability to navigate the Smoking Sea, resist curses, and pass through the Wall of Storms was due entirely to the countless slaves he had sacrificed to the Storm God.

In this fantastical world, blood magic was no superstition.

If Dany were an expert in heraldry and Ironborn culture, she might have discerned the truth from Euron's personal sigil.

Euron's sigil depicted two ravens holding up a black iron crown, beneath which was a single black eye with a red pupil.

The Storm God's most notable trait was his two raven servants. Euron not only bore the raven sigil but was also nicknamed "Crow's Eye."

The slave masters debated among themselves for more than half an hour before Grazdan finally declared, "A map of the Valyrian ruins is indeed worth 1,000 Unsullied and 5,000 eunuch apprentices.

But I must have a guarantee—this information must remain exclusive to us.

If you sell this map to every city-state you visit, we'll suffer immense losses!"

If the map was genuine, it would be worth far more than 1,000 Unsullied and 5,000 eunuch apprentices—possibly even 20,000 Unsullied—since just one Valyrian steel sword could cover the cost.

"The noble Grazdan is incredibly shrewd. I swear by the honor of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Targaryen family that I will not resell the map," Dany vowed.

Grazdan glanced at the smiling Euron and nodded gravely. "Deal!"

The others echoed Grazdan's words, their voices like flowing pearls.

"Deal!"

"Deal!"

In total, there were eight agreements.

Before departing, Kraznys mo Nakloz pointed to Missandei. "This clever little slave belongs to you now. She will teach the Unsullied your language."

Missandei translated for Dany, "Your Grace, the noble master has gifted me to you."

"Very well, you're mine now. Come with me," Dany said with a nod, preparing to leave.

"Wait a moment."

(End of Chapter)

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