Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Gift?" Kraznys asked in confusion. Then, he pointed at the old man in shock. "How do you speak Valyrian?"

Ignoring him, the old man opened a large leather chest, roughly the size of a cello. Inside, it was lined with thick, exquisite Yi Ti silk. Resting on the soft fabric were eight black scepters, each nearly two meters long. They were as translucent as obsidian, yet exuded an indescribable sense of majesty and luxury.

Five of the scepters had large gold inlays at the top, sculpted into the form of harpy heads. Their eyes were adorned with bright golden rutilated quartz, while their teeth were carved from ivory as white as jade.

At the grip, each staff was wrapped with golden bands etched with fine patterns, preventing them from slipping due to sweat.

When Kraznys looked closer, he noticed that the golden bands were encrusted with tiny diamond fragments forming Valyrian script. One of them read "Kraznys mo Nakloz"—his own name.

Two more scepters had silver inlays at the top, designed in the same style as the others.

A thought struck the slave trader, and he looked at the silver bands. As expected, the names on them belonged to the Good Masters who were only permitted to wear tokar robes adorned with silver tassels.

The final scepter was the most extravagant of all. Though primarily gold, it was embedded with at least eighty pearls, each the size of a broad bean.

The name on it belonged to Grazdan, the one who wore pearl tassels.

"These are really for us?" Kraznys, usually a stingy man, widened his pig-like eyes in disbelief. "If I'm not mistaken, these are made from dragonbone, aren't they?"

Dragonbone was unique—it had the properties of metal but was far lighter than black iron. After all, dragons wouldn't be able to fly if their bones were heavy.

At first, Kraznys had assumed the scepters were made of black iron, but the moment he picked one up for closer inspection, he was certain—they were dragonbone.

"They are indeed dragonbone." The white-bearded old man placed the chest in front of the slave masters. "I hope the esteemed Good Masters like them. Now, I shall take my leave."

With that, he leaned on his wooden cane and turned to leave.

"Wait," Kraznys called out, his face full of suspicion. "But why? Eight exquisite dragonbone scepters must be worth at least thousands, even tens of thousands, of gold dragons."

"We are leaving Astapor today. The Queen instructed me to deliver these gifts." The old man replied flatly.

In truth, he was just as puzzled. He had no idea when Daenerys had prepared these gifts.

That morning, just before they set out, she had a former blacksmith among the horsemen bring him a large chest. She instructed him to deliver the gifts personally to the Good Masters after she and the Unsullied had departed.

"Well, tell your Westerosi whore queen—" Kraznys cast another glance at the luxurious dragonbone scepters and decided he should offer some advice in return. He called out again, this time with a sincere suggestion:

"She should let her slaves gain some battle experience first.

"There are many small cities on the way west—perfect targets for pillaging. No matter what spoils are taken, they can keep everything for themselves. After all, the Unsullied have no desire for gold or jewels.

"As for captives, just assign a small escort to bring them back to Astapor. Neither Meereen nor Yunkai will interfere.

"The highly skilled warriors can be sold to Meereen. The young women and delicate men will fetch a good price in Yunkai.

"We will buy healthy boys—at a favorable rate.

"Perhaps, before she even reaches the Sunset Sea, she will have earned back the money she spent on the Unsullied. And in ten years, the boys she sends us might become the next generation of Unsullied.

"This way, a stable cycle is formed. It benefits everyone."

"Hmph!" The old man's face darkened. He glared at the slave master before turning away without a word, riding off on his horse.

Once he passed through the city gates, a vast army stretched across the rolling plains of the Worm River Valley.

He rode several hundred meters forward. Amid the dust swirling along the dirt road, he spotted Daenerys.

She sat atop her horse, speaking with a few Ghiscari men dressed in tokar robes. Nearby, nearly a thousand horsemen stood on the open ground, each wearing a bronze slave collar.

"All of Astapor's horsemen slaves are here—936 in total," said the old slave trader with red and black upright hair. He smiled and continued, "Since you are buying in bulk, I'll give you a discount. Five slaves for one silver mark."

"Aggo, give this esteemed master 200 silver marks," Daenerys instructed one of her bloodriders.

"Heh, that's too much, far too much," the slave trader said, rubbing his hands together in delight. "Besides, I am just a humble merchant, hardly worthy of being called a master."

"You managed to gather every horseman in the city—that's no small feat. Consider the extra silver my gift to you." As she spoke, Daenerys gave him a meaningful smile. "One day, you may enjoy the same privileges as the Good Masters."

"Heh, many thanks for your kind words," the slave trader replied, his grin widening.

Once the Ghiscari man left with his bag of coins, the old man approached Daenerys. "The gifts have been delivered. The slave traders were quite pleased."

"Good." Daenerys nodded and ordered the bloodriders to integrate the horsemen into the main force.

Back in the Red Waste, even the elderly and the weak among the Dothraki had horses. Their numbers were small, and they were easy to manage, covering over a hundred kilometers in a day.

Now, conditions were better. There was no shortage of water or fodder for the horses. However, the army was much larger now, consisting mostly of infantry. Covering even 30 kilometers a day would be a challenge.

"The slave trader also wanted me to tell you…" The old man hesitated for a long time. His loyalty won over his conscience, and he reluctantly relayed Kraznys' suggestion. "He said the Unsullied could raid the cities along the way to replenish supplies and…"

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to suggest selling slaves.

"Heh." Daenerys chuckled and finished his sentence for him. "Sell the townspeople as slaves to the cities of Slaver's Bay, establishing a 'stable cycle'?"

"Uh…" The old man froze for a moment, then pleaded, "Your Grace, you must not engage in the slave trade. Aside from how the people of Westeros would react, you've already seen for yourself how miserable the lives of slaves are."

"Plundering small cities—if we don't, how else will we travel tens of thousands of miles back to the Seven Kingdoms?" Dany deliberately asked.

When the slave masters sold the Unsullied, they provided only a sleeveless leather vest, a short sword, a spear, a wooden shield reinforced with iron, a sleeping bag, and three days' worth of rations.

Fully trained Unsullied also received bronze-spiked helmets, but the Unsullied trainees didn't even have those.

Without raiding, Dany wouldn't be able to feed her army of over ten thousand in a month's time.

She still had the wealth she brought from Qarth, though.

Ser Barristan pondered for a long moment before cautiously suggesting, "Perhaps... you could take out a loan?"

"From whom?" Dany's interest was piqued.

"The merchants of the Free Cities, the Iron Bank of Braavos," the old knight replied, glancing at Ser Jorah, who had remained silent until now. "Even the Lord of Bear Island had a credit line of tens of thousands of gold dragons at the Iron Bank. A Queen of the Seven Kingdoms borrowing a few million should be no problem."

"You don't understand," Jorah said, his face flushing. "My family's sword, Longclaw, is made of Valyrian steel. Even when Tywin Lannister offered eighty thousand gold dragons, I refused to sell it. The Iron Bank is shrewd. Besides, to pay off my debts, I worked for them for years, risking my life dozens of times."

Barristan studied Jorah's gilded black armor and nodded. "Your Grace, selling that armor alone would be enough to fund a journey around the world twice over."

"You can't—" Jorah's face turned red as he looked at Dany with pleading eyes.

"Relax, I'm just joking," Dany waved him off with a smile. "I already have a plan."

"What plan?" they asked in unison.

She pondered for a moment before asking, "Do you know why I gave gifts to the slave masters?"

The two men exchanged a look, both looking perplexed. After a long pause, something clicked in Jorah's mind. He suddenly recalled the many discussions he'd had with Dany before and hesitantly said, "A guest gift?"

Dany smiled and nodded.

"But we don't have a guest relationship with the slave masters," Barristan said, puzzled. "They sold slaves, we bought the Unsullied—it's purely a business transaction."

"It can still be considered a form of guest relationship," Jorah mused, lightly tugging his reins. "The Free Cities operate differently from Westeros. In Westeros, when a traveler passes by a lord's home, it sets the foundation for a guest relationship. If the lord provides shelter, guest rights automatically take effect.

According to Your Grace's theory, this is essentially a matter of trust—an unspoken agreement not to harm one another.

In the Free Cities, a successful trade transaction can also be considered... We arrived in this city, the city's rulers did not rob us, they even invited us to lunch yesterday and let us watch the gladiator fights. Does that not count as a guest relationship?"

Barristan seemed convinced and nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. In Westeros, once a guest eats the host's salt, guest rights are—"

He abruptly stopped speaking, his eyes widening in shock as he looked at Dany. His voice trembled as he stammered, "Your Grace, y-you mean... the gifts you gave to the Good Masters... were guest gifts?!"

Jorah was stunned for a moment. At first, it seemed obvious—wasn't that the whole point of a guest gift? But in the next second, realization struck, and his expression changed dramatically. His voice shook as he said, "A guest giving a host a guest gift is primarily a gesture of gratitude for the host's hospitality. But... but it also signifies the end of the guest relationship. We and the Good Masters no longer have guest rights. Your Grace, you intend to—"

Dany remained calm as she turned to them and interrupted, "You detest and abhor slavery, but all you think about is avoiding it. I am different. I intend to change it. After tomorrow, let's see who still dares to sell slave soldiers."

Her words confirmed their worst suspicions. For a moment, they were left speechless, their minds reeling.

"Will... will the Unsullied follow your plan?" Barristan finally rasped.

Dany smiled. "I'm not entirely sure. That's why I need to leave Astapor first to test them."

If the Unsullied obeyed her, she would proceed with Plan A and make a grand spectacle. If the situation turned against her—if she lacked Daenerys Targaryen's innate "queenly presence" to make the Unsullied kneel in submission—then she would take her Dothraki followers and flee immediately.

They were already several miles from the city. Even if the slave masters realized what she was planning, they wouldn't be able to catch her.

Right now, they were traveling along the ancient Ghiscari coastal road. Close by, four Groleo ships sailed along the shore, keeping pace with her.

But based on what Quaith had revealed in her cryptic prophecies the previous day, Dany was ninety-nine percent certain she would succeed.

With that thought, she turned and waved at a young girl lagging a dozen meters behind. "Missandei, come here."

The handmaiden had been given a small red-maned mare—short and docile, just right for her to ride.

"Yes, my lady?" Missandei urged her horse forward and asked respectfully.

(End of Chapter)

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