Mid to Late 112 AC – Astapor, Slaver's Bay
Zimine POV
She'd not seen such chaos in all her time alive when claims came of a fleet of hundreds of ships sighted sailing towards the ports of Astapor.
The Plaza of Pride had been a place a-storm, high born guards with their oily horned shaped hair and Unsullied alike made readied for a siege, the frenzied bellows of her master stinging at all their senses.
Yet, those bellows came at an end when, of all things, a primal terrifying roar could be heard, a bone-rattling roar, and she had wondered, if it must have been heard at the farthest ends of the horizon, and, in the stead of anger, for the first time ever, she'd seen a fear show itself on her master's face at the sound and sight of a huge beast the colour of steel and brim fire flying over the fleet of ships.
The sun had turned towards high noon when the ships, its sails bearing a coiled ring of what seemed to be eight dragon heads, clogged up the entrance of the browned and redded sea at the ports, ominous and dangerous, and none dared to escape the blockade. Not the merchants or the few cogs of war.
"Those sails. I recognise the sigil. It belongs to that sister-fucker who claims to have found land in the West. He's changed it not long ago." One of the Good Masters said as they stood atop the high red bricked walls of Astapor, the strong scents of honey and raspberry perfumes of the assembled masters dominating all other smells.
"The lying sunset savage who buys slaves and claims he sets them free?" another asked disdainfully. She felt a strange stir in her heart at those words, a no good stir she quickly burnt as dead as ash, her head unchangingly bowed, eyes fixed cast to the ground, her hands unwaveringly keeping steady the striped silk awn that protected the head of her master from the harsh sun that beat at her browned naked back.
"Yes, that Valyrian fool" another said, Gizlohr zo Zhasnak, she recognised from the hoarse and high voice, a voice ruined, it is said, by his shouts and rages at the slaves at his famed gladiatorial training estate. "Why does he darken our steps?"
"He is here to treat with us." Good Master Gondel mo Huqqi said. "He has been here for some time yet but does not attack. We must send a ship to approach."
"We do not come at the beck and call of a sunset savage" one of the Good Masters sneered before he scoffed "Least of all, a weakhearted fool. Let him come to us and beg for our audience."
"And that flying beast? The beast that is as big as those carracks? And pray tell us Zhirdiq, what ever shall do we about that beast whose master you are intent on offending? The last who offended him was the Pirate Saan of the Basilisk Isles and they all burned." the old Good Master Azhar mo Ozdak mocked.
None of the Good Masters immediately responded to those words.
"We must treat with him. He may or may not be a weakhearted savage but he pays and he pays well and is known not to act in bad faith on a deal." One of the Good Masters said.
She heard their clothes stir, mayhaps of discomfort. She could not be sure.
"If we can be sure he is here to treat." Good Master Gizlohr zo Zhasnak said sceptically.
"What else could it be?" One of the Good Masters asked. "If the savage was here to attack, he'd done so already. He has not and the savage, as Good Master Grodnihr says, is known for his merchant ways. The rule of coin, for all that he is a savage, this one understands."
"He is also known for his filthy sympathies for livestock." Another Good Master pointed out disdainfully.
"And yet he destroyed a corsair town of thousands of the Basilisk Isles, women and children alike." Good Master Azhar mo Ozdak said coldly "That is not someone who is as weakhearted or foolish as some of you are led to believe. He is not someone we can afford to slight."
Good Master Azhar mo Ozdak continued, his voice still cold as he spoke further "No, he is here for one thing only. He is here to buy the Unsullied. It is said that he seeks war with Myr for an old feud. I believe it."
The Good Masters seemed to talk between themselves for a moment until one of the Good Masters spoke up. "The Great Masters and the Wise Masters will take great offence." The Good Master warned and others made noises of agreement.
"Let them." Good Master Azhar mo Ozdak scoffed derisively. "What use is a petty agreement not to trade flesh with the savage when we have his fleet of near enough two hundred ships and a grown dragon at our gates?"
"I agree with Good Master Azhar." Her master, the Good Master Krednos mo Nakloz, said, the tang of satisfaction clear to hear in his voice. "And we can soothe their offence by charging the fool more than I would any other."
"Of course you agree." Good Master Gizlohr zo Zhasnak said in a sneering voice "You and them" he said, his silk clothes rustling and she thought he was gesturing towards the other Good Masters who oversaw the training of the Unsullied alongside her master "stand to gain much wealth from this."
"Wealth that will go back into Astapor, my beloved friend." Her master said with a smiling voice.
"Wealth that we will need to buy more of your good infant stock. After all, we will need thousands of more of the livestock to create the next lot of Unsullied." Good Master Grazdan zo Lihzuz said and chuckles rang around at the jest.
Her head remained bowed as their talking turned.
By the time the sun moved past high noon, the ship the Good Masters had sent returned with word alongside one of the sunset ships that the Sunset Prince wished to purchase the Unsullied. All of the Unsullied.
Her master and the other Good had delighted at that, the thought of a sea of gold marks pocketed making them and him happier than she ever remembered seeing a master being. The sunset ship went with a set price of one and half million gold marks, a price the ship returned with word that the Sunset Prince had agreed with the price.
"Gizlohr better breed his bitches well for we will have great need soon." Zhiknes zo Shilazn said to her master and the Good Masters.
"Do we truly wish to sell them all?" one of the Good Masters asked. "It's never been done before."
"None had the coin or want to do it." Her master said "That is the only difference." And so the Good Masters settled, happy to think on the coin they were to make.
Her master and the other Good Masters took her and many other girls with them outside to the front gates to the Plaza of Punishment, a place whose platforms she walked passed were empty and empty of wails for need of the space though their warm blood still stains the wood and their stench lingers still.
All the Unsullied would be gathered here, for there was no other space large enough to hold so many of them, and they stood waiting at the gates as one of the ships moved to harbour, deeper into the harbour and deeper into the worming river, the sight of the dragon long gone from their sights, surrounded by a contingent of high born guards and Unsullied.
"The beast must have tired" her master said to the other masters and they mocked and joked with the high born guards, their mocking words rang alongside their laughter, mocking words that made way for a while when the masters and her master spoke of all of what they would with the coin that'd soon be theirs, plots and schemes against their rivals and the rival cities, only ceasing once the armoured cladded men were less than fifty paces away from them, though they did not spare mocking at the foreigners who must be boiling in their clothing of steel.
She cast a curious gaze at the six and twenty men, these foreigners, who walked ahead of four and twenty behind them who carried, between them, six heavy crates.
Their polished and coloured steel armour shone with the haze of the afternoon sun, their brows red and wet with sweat. Some had shields on their backs but all wore their swords on their hips, even the crate carrying men.
Their head of hair betrayed their origin. Silver and blond and brown and ink black, the colours of the Free Cities and the lands of the Sunset Kingdoms.
She noted all of them were fair-skinned and fair of eyes, blues and greens and greys were abound in the eyes of these men, men that had shadows of hair touch their cheeks on faces that were as severe as the harsh sun.
"Before you stands Good Master Krednos mo Nakloz, the Magnificent." One of the high born guards called out before proceeding to call out the exuberant names of all the masters as the foreigners came to a stop before them.
Her master and the other masters looked confused as they looked toward the foreign men. "Who is the Targaryen Prince amongst you?" her master asked.
"None of us are Prince Aegon." One of them spoke up, the handsome man with the looks of Old Valyria, in the old High Valyrian tongue. "I am Ser Galaenys, a knight in service to Prince Aegon, like the other men with me."
"Knights." One of the good masters said with surprise.
"Yes…I heard of men such as you." One of the good master gestured towards the high born guards. "These men are like you, Ser Galaenys, good Ghiscari noble men who serve me and Astapor." he said with a welcoming smile.
"Though, I expect they are better taken care of than how the blooded ones such as yourself are taken care of in your Sunset Kingdoms." Grazdan zo Lihzuz said in a laugh though none of the foreigners found it funny.
Her master glanced unimpressed at the master who spoke and he quieted down under the gaze of her master and the other masters. Though they were all masters, they were not all equal.
Master then looked forward again, beyond the men in front of him and towards the crates before he turned his gaze back towards this Ser Galaenys. "Is your Prince not gracing us with his presence?" her master asked. She noted that her master sounded not impressed and was likely offended by this Sunset Prince's absence.
"Prince Aegon will arrive shortly once I signal to him that it is safe for him and his dragon to come." Galaenys said to her master.
For a moment, her master and the other masters looked offended until the word dragon had been understood and her master quickly recovered, his hand moving at his side, a forceful gesture that was meant for the other masters who stilled anything they might have said otherwise. "Prince Aegon is arriving on dragonback?"
"He is." The handsome man said to her master. "He wishes to make an impression on his property."
"Ah." Her master said in a smile but she could tell for what it was, even if she only saw half of his face from where she stood holding the silk awn over his head.
"He will not free them like he is said to do with the other slaves he buys?" Good master Grazdan zo Lihzuz asked in a cold smile.
The handsome man smiled and it was as equally as unsmiling as that of the master's. "That is what many are made to believe." the handsome man said as he glanced at the other foreign men, an amused mocking look brandished on his face as he turned back to face her master. "Yet before you, there stands only men from Westeros and none of us has toiled a day as a slave. As your friend said, there are places for those like us." Galaenys said before he eyed her and the other girls before he looked at her master once more.
"And there are places for those like them. The Prince understands this and they are his to do as a dragon wishes." Galaenys finished and this made her master and the other masters chuckle at the words of this foreign man.
"Good, good." One of the masters said with a smiling voice "You will find the Unsullied perfectly suited for the place they belong to."
"Hmm." Galaenys said as he looked towards one of the Unsullied. "We will see about that. I hear that you take what makes us all men away from the Unsullied."
"They are not men." Her master said in agreement. "They are obedient spears who have no thought in their heads but that of the wills of their master. And they are expensive" Her master then looked towards the crates with a dubious look before he looked back towards Galaenys. "It does not look like it is enough. Not for all."
Galaenys then met her master's dark eyes. "There are one and a half million gold dragons in those crates." The sum seemed to greatly please the masters.
Galaenys then gestured the crates to be brought in front of the masters. "More than enough to purchase all of your Unsullied. You can have your men check the crates now if you wished before we proceed."
"We will do so." Her master said as he shared a look with the other masters before he clicked his fingers and slave scribes and freedmen in service of the masters came speedily towards the crates.
They spent an hour checking the contents of the crates, checking and weighing hundreds of coins from each crate before they were satisfied that the contents of the crates were as Galaenys had said and spoke in hushed whispers to the masters.
"Good, good." One of the masters remarked, greatly satisfied with the judgement and discussion had with the other masters, and her master signalled one of the high born guards, likely, she thought, to gather the rest of the Unsullied.
"We can do business." Her master said finally before he then gestured with his hand bearing the gold capped whip for the foreigners to follow him and the masters into the Plaza of Punishment, past the front main gates.
The Unsullied now began to fill the Plaza of Punishment once they were halfway to the raised platforms at the opposite of the front main gates that led to the barracks before one made it into the city proper.
"You said the Unsullied had no thoughts?" Galaenys asked her master who she kept sure the awn would keep the sun's light and heat from touching her master whilst some of the others began to shield the foreigners from the sun.
"From the moment they can walk, they are forged not only in body but in mind too, tempered in blood and sacrifice until all there is, is Unsullied. Pure." Her master said with pride and satisfaction, satisfaction shared with the masters, and she caught a glimpse of the foreign men who she thought bore very hard eyes.
Why so, she wondered.
The masters continued to speak pridefully with Galaenys as they walked between the many columns of Unsullied that were being gathered in the Plaza, marched out as they were from their barracks and from the walls some time ago and now, speaking of the training the Unsullied had to become what they were.
Awful training that she hated hearing.
She cast her gaze towards the faces of the Unsullied, some she thought could be mayhaps no more than three and ten, no older than she, though it was hard to tell, and it was hard to tell still the ages of the other Unsullied, all of whom looked young but could be the old age of five and thirty for all she knew.
The girls and women of her master said it was because they had no cock and no stones, making them grow girlish and slight and young, something she'd once heard the girls and women gossip that some masters liked and sought, like how some masters, like her master's son, liked girls younger than she yet unflowered and un-heavy with breasts.
There must be more than ten thousand she thought, more than she'd ever seen gathered in one place, once they arrived and moved up the steps of the platform.
"Hundred and twenty ranks of a hundred stand before you." Her master said in a prideful tone as they arrived at the steps of the barracks, now looking towards the many hundred columns of Unsullied standing stiffly.
"And they obey without question?" Galaenys asked doubtfully as he glanced at the Unsullied before them.
"You doubt." Her master chuckled, and she recognised the kind that it was. It was the kind of chuckle he did when he thought you an idiot. "You!" her master bellowed as he held up the gold crusted whip high into the sky in one hand and gesturing with another at a Unsullied in the hundred-strong rank directly in front of them. The Unsullied walked forward stiffly and stood in front of their master once he'd climbed the steps.
Her master then looked towards Galaenys, towards his hip and said "Your dagger, give it to me." Galaenys frowned as he hesitated for a brief moment. The hesitation did not last and he removed the dagger from its scabbard, a dagger that looked strange to her. It was black and though shaped like a dagger, it had sharp edges along its length with peaks that glistened like starlight under a clear black sky.
Her master was curious too, though he did not ask when he took the offered dagger, a dagger that was offered with the sharp end pointed at her master, and the dagger hilt was rolled into her master's hand when he went for it.
Her master then pressed the edge of the black dagger on the Unsullied left breast and slowly cut downwards, the tip of the dagger sinking into the flesh of the Unsullied. "Does this matter to you?"
"It does not, your worship." The Unsullied said.
Her master then moved away from the chest and placed the tip at the dimple of the Unsullied's neck. "And if I wished to drive this into your neck? Would it matter then?"
"It would not, your worship." There was blood now dripping from the Unsullied's neck and the Unsullied never moved, never changed its stiff posture.
Her master moved the tip of the dagger downward, towards the Unsullied's right side of the chest and drove in the blade deep before he twisted in the Unsullied's chest, the sound of flesh tearing plain and easy to hear.
"And this?"
"It does not matter, your worship."
"Not even the pain?"
"I feel nothing, your worship."
"The Prince wants them whole. Enough." Galaenys voice was hard as he spoke and when he met her master's gaze, he said. "I am satisfied." His words accompanied with a hard stare at the Unsullied before he turned his gaze towards her master. "Is this all of the Unsullied? Even the almost trained?"
"No, they are not yet ready to be deemed Unsullied." Her master said.
"How many of those are there?"
"Some eight thousand." One of the masters said disdainfully. "But they are but unwieldly things. Impure. They are not yet ready. Three mayhaps four thousand of them will perish before the surviving are truly considered pure ."
"I understand. But know that my Prince will want them too."
"They are not for sale." Her master said with the shake of the head. "The Unsullied are our families' prideful work. A butcher does not sell the innards and shit it removes from a carcass amongst the meat to be sold in the butcher's shop."
"The one and a half million gold dragons, coins that weigh near twice that much that of your gold marks, is for all of the Unsullied. Or we will take the coin and hire sellswords five times the number of Unsullied in this plaza." Galaenys said with a heavy look. "Our campaign in Myr will require many bodies, on land and on sea, and Prince Aegon will want all of the Unsullied. He will want no less."
"They are impure." One of the masters complained to the other masters. "We cannot sell them."
"My Prince will want them all." Galaenys insisted hard.
Her master quieted down the other masters before her master and the other masters shared silent looks.
One of the masters spoke once more "We will need to discuss this."
Her master bid her to shield the foreigners who remained from the harsh, and, for the entire duration her master and the other masters were away, the foreigners were as silent as death itself, only hard and severe looks shared between them.
Her master returned with the masters some time later and they did not return alone for more of the Unsullied locked step behind them.
Galaenys did not change his expression as he spoke. "So you have come to agree?"
"Mostly." Her master said before another master spoke next. "We will give you all of the ones that are within a few years of being purified. The rest are too impure to be allowed to shame us when you use them against the Myrrish."
Galaenys seemed to think this over before he looked towards the young Unsullied who were moving in ranks of hundred towards the far side of the plaza.
"Unless you are willing to pay an extra crate of gold for them?" one of the masters posed and Galaenys looked to meet the Good Master's eyes.
"It will be Prince Aegon's decision." He looked at the Unsullied. "These may be enough to satisfy my Prince but he will speak for himself." Galaenys said before he looked towards the men by the crates and signalled them to come forth. The foreign placed the crates, crates that she thought could crush a man should it fall on top of them, in front of the masters who were pleased greatly by the sight of them.
Galaenys then looked towards the plaza and gestured at one of the other foreign men. "You should open a space for my Prince to arrive. The dragon is a large beast and does not like the smell of people." Galaenys said.
One of the foreigners unhooked something, something looked like a rod of a kind, long and thin, yet at the top there was a ball of a kind, a ball that looked to be made of some kind of black clay, mayhaps unpolished steel, but she could not be sure.
The foreign man in armour twisted at the bottom and raised the stick high into the air, a queer look that she did not understand. That none of the masters understood.
"Wait, he's com-" one of the master's words died in his throat when a bright green light blinded her for a moment, and she heard the sharp noises of spears and swords readied and when her vision returned, it returned with the foreign men surrounded by spears and swords.
"What have you done?!" her master demanded even though he raised his hand to still the sharp steel edges of the spears and blades. Galaenys, and the other foreign men, looked calm under the seeming danger they were in.
"We have merely called Prince Aegon to come." Galaenys said before he pointed towards the skies and she looked despite herself and the moment she looked, she was greeted with a great show of green light, light that momentarily turned the sky to bear twin suns, one reddish-brown and the other a violent green.
"What is that? How have you done that?" one of the masters wondered and demanded, and she turned to look, and she saw the gleam of greed in his eyes.
"That is a contraption made by Prince Aegon with some aid of Yi-Tish tradesmen." Galaenys said to the master in question. "You must have heard that the Prince is responsible for Braavosi glass, like the ones your slaves hold on that silver platter." Galaenys gestured towards the half full pitchers and wineglasses.
"My Prince makes many contraptions which may be available for the right price." Galaenys finished. Her master shared looks with the other masters.
"We may be interested" one of the masters said but she could tell that he had not hidden his curiosities and then, finally, one of the masters signalled the guards and the Unsullied to bring their swords and spears to heel.
"Do not surprise us like that again." One of the masters warned dangerously.
"Of course." Galaenys said with a smile. "There will be none more." Galaenys said as he looked towards the sky and she looked to, and she marvelled at the dying light of the green fire. She'd never seen green fire. Only red and orange, she thought.
"How lo-" one of the master's voices was cut short by a bone-rattling roar, a roar that made many jump in fear and shock yet the greater shock and the greater fear was yet to come when a shadow the size of mountains was cast over them, over the plaza, a shadow that was followed by the form of flesh and scales and the smell of ash and smoke, wind swept and wind wept as claws the length of spears and claws as thick as the most portly master flashed by her and the others and when the dragon roared again, her bones felt like they were shaken loose from her very body.
Voices rang around her, rife with fear, and no doubt faces strife with terror yet she made no noise and her legs did not move a single muscle, though her hands and her arms shook like a broken leaf hanging loose from the stem of a branch imperilled under the strongest gale, her eyes fixed on the sight before her, a sight that was dominated by a creature that was as large as the pyramids of Astapor itself, a creature that swept around with its monstrous wings, wings that seemed like they shield the very world from the light of the sun itself, wings that brought the creature low and towards the far side of the walls.
The high born guards that had been on the walls above them, above the platforms crept away from the sight of horror, the sight of a beast that no man could contend with, that no man – or Unsullied, she thought – would want to contend with.
And, for the first time, she saw what the colour of steel truly was, now, in the presence of this dragon, of this beast, of this monster, clad in armour, angled scales of armour that the dragon bore on its chest and on its neck and on both sides of its draconic head, armour that must be thicker than shields.
Its claws, its monstrous claws, wrapped around the width of the walls after it descended, stones crushing underneath its strength and power and weight, and she imagined with awe and fear that steel may well bear as little resistance as stone and rock.
Once more the dragon roared, yet, it was not with the vigour and fury as the roars before but she recognised it still for what it was, a call, a demand, from a master to its slaves, she thought, as she gazed at the massive slitted green eyes that she believed was bigger than the head of an elephant.
By now, the vicinity of that side of the wall was vacated by the Unsullied, and, she thought, as she looked towards them, eyes full of shock, eyes full of emotion that she thought they did not have, could not have, and she realised that they too must have felt the demand of the dragon onto their very spirits, as broken as they were.
The dragon moved one of its legs down from atop the high walls, walls that there were ten feet tall yet to this dragon it was no more than a man sized step. It placed down one of its wings onto the ground followed by the other and soon the dragon, its long serpentine neck slithering as it ambled closer and away from the wall towards them, its green eyes sweeping across the plaza.
"Wh-what is he doing?!" one of the masters found their voice, and soon the others found theirs too.
"You have no cause to be fearful, Good Masters. He is merely making an impression." Galaenys said to the masters, and she found the courage to look at the foreign man and she saw the same hard eyes she'd seen in the other foreign men for the first time.
For a moment, those hard eyes had snapped towards her, eyes that then lost their hardness and she thought there was a faint smile on his face, on this Galaenys, this sunset foreigner but it was gone quick, leaving her to doubt herself.
The dragon growled lowly, grasping their attentions once more, and it went low, one of its wings stretching out, and moments later, she saw a man clad in dark coloured armour walk down the beast's wing and the Sunset Prince, for whom else could this be, walked towards them.
And, as the Sunset Prince closed the distance between them, the dragon followed him closely, though slowly, its fleshy wings gnawing at the red sands and its hind claws clawing at the sun beat sand and only after a few moments did it stop yet not once did it take off its green eyes from the back of its master, the Sunset Prince.
When the masters made of noises of discontent and shared looks of anger, the dragon seemed displeased with it for it began to growl and growl it did with a menacing thrum that was made more obscene when a deathly dark blue light dwelled at the back between the rows of sword like teeth that shown itself when the scale like lips of its maw drew back.
It quieted down her masters and the high born guards slinked away further still.
The hundred or so paces the Sunset Prince walked felt like an age, the sounds of clinking armour and the sounds of the low rumble of the dragon melted away the heat of the shimmering sand, and, instead, invoked in her trickles of shivering cold water down her spine as the Sunset Prince approached, and approach he did.
There were whispers shared amongst themselves, about the Dragonlords of Old Valyria, the masters of whom they all spoke the language of, tales that was shared in secret. Tales that spoke of their masters once having masters of their own, masters that called all of the sky and the earth and the rivers their own as easily as the masters called Astapor theirs.
And, as she looked upon this Sunset Prince with skin as pale as the colour of fresh milk, and with short hair the colour of the finest silver, two amethyst jewels crowning a bearded face as though they were the fabled gems stolen from the lost crown of Grazdan's Queen Lerizda, mother of all Ghis, she could understand why the Good Masters punished such words spoken with flaying and dismemberment.
There was something different about these Dragonlords, she decided with wonder, and the Good Masters, who tried and tried to be like them but could never be, she realised, remembered their own lacking and punished others for their lesser-ness.
"My Prince." Galaenys said with a deep bow, a bow that the rest of the foreigners followed in doing when the Sunset Prince went up the steps onto the platform.
"Ser Galaenys. Your verdict?" the Sunset Prince only said with piercing look at the man, his voice raw yet firm and she thought she could hear a distant rumbling when he spoke, the same kind of distant rumbling that the dragon still did, a rumbling she could almost swear she could feel from the sand through her sandals.
"They are adequate. These are not all of the Unsullied however." Galaenys said to the Prince, and her master, after a sharp word to the high born guards who remained stilled in place to follow him, walked a few paces in front of the rest of them, standing opposite the Sunset Prince.
"Prince Aegon." Her master said with a forceful smile and the Prince looked towards him, standing a head taller than her master. "It is a pleasure to meet one of the last surviving members of the Forty." Her master introduced himself and the others before he spoke of the matter at hand.
"These fifteen thousand, twelve thousand pure Unsullied and another three with some impurities, are here before you. Your gold will buy you this much." Her master said. The Sunset Prince acknowledged her master before he turned to look at the Unsullied.
"There has been a misunderstanding. When your messenger said I could have all of the Unsullied for one and a half million gold coins, I understood it to mean all of the Unsullied. Including the ones that are very…impure." The Sunset Prince then turned to look at her master and then onto the others.
"Why would you want half-children that have not yet blooded their blades with an infant?" One of the masters said indignantly "They will not be useful as these fully trained Unsullied will. It would be foolish to want them."
"Are you calling my Prince a fool?" Galaenys growled and before anyone else could speak, the Sunset Prince placed an arm on the foreigner.
"Peace, Ser Galaenys. They meant no offence." The Sunset Prince said as he looked towards the Good Masters. "I am sure they are merely worried that I will not come again to buy more of their Unsullied should I be disappointed."
"That is correct, my good Prince." One of the masters said. "Your campaign in Myr will need the finest of weapons and these Unsullied are finest of all."
"We will train more and come in a years time, there shall be thousands more for you to gain…at a price, of course." Her master said and the Sunset Prince nodded silently before he looked towards the Unsullied.
There was a long silence that seemed to crush all other noise, eyes flittering towards the still teeth baring dragon who watched them with unnatural intensity.
"Throw in the Unsullied that stand there" the Sunset Prince said as he gestured towards the Unsullied that stood beside the masters. "Do that and I will accept."
"Of course." One of the masters said hastily, as eager as any for the thick tension to go away. "I have given you to the Sunset Prince. He is his master now. Go! Go join the Unsullied waiting there!" the master said in a growl as he threw the whip on the ground and the fifty Unsullied that had stood guarding the masters left to join their kind at the Plaza.
The Sunset Prince looked towards the Unsullied for a long moment before he spoke. "Very well. It is agreed." The Sunset Prince said and she felt as if everyone had collectively taken a breath of relief. The Sunset Prince gestured the foreign men forward with the crates and her master gleefully ordered the high born guards to take the crate back into the city.
"It is agreed." Her master said as the other masters turned to look hungrily at the crates that were being taken away and he moved to hand the gold crusted whip to the Sunset Prince.
The Sunset Prince took it, his eyes latched onto the faint golden figure of the harpy, before he met her master's gaze. "They belong to me now?"
"As surely as that dragon belongs to you, my good Prince." Her master agreed, his eyes flickering to the armoured dragon with wariness and a hint of fear showed before he masked it with a winning smile, and the Sunset Prince only nodded before he went down the steps of the platform, towards the Unsullied, and the other foreign men began to pool around at the edges of the platform, particularly those with the shields at their back, their bodies half turned to the plaza below, and some of them began to climbed down the steps though not all the way.
"UNSULLIED!" the Sunset Prince bellowed, his voice carrying throughout the plaza as he raised the whip. "YOU HAVE BEEN SOLD TO ME. DO YOU RECOGNISE THAT?"
The Unsullied smacked the bottom of their spears on the sands in acknowledgement. The Sunset Prince then moved in between the columns, ranks, of Unsullied, his head swivelling from one side to the other.
"THE GOOD MASTERS NO LONGER COMMAND YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"
Once more, all the Unsullied smacked the bottom of their spears on the sands in acknowledgement.
"What is he doing?" one of the good masters demanded to know, his face contorting in confusion and a bout of anger.
"He is making sure they understand…Good Master." Galaenys as he stared at the master.
"I HAVE BUT ONE COMMAND FOR YOU." The Sunset Prince said as he clenched the whip tightly.
"BE FREE, UNSULLIED!"
She did not have time to think for the foreign men moved quickly, far too quickly, the shields on their backs removed and whipped to their front, the sharp tangs of swords unsheathed singing across the platform, their sword tips pointed towards them…no…towards her master and the other masters.
"What is the meaning of this?!" her master bellowed as he took a step back, and she too took a step back, towards the sides at the same time another master called out, screamed out "GUARDS, DEFEND US! UNSULLIED DEFEND US!"
The guards moved but the Unsullied remained still and she saw the faces of the masters pale into a deathly colour as they looked past the foreign soldiers with their strange shields and she caught where they were looking, and she saw the Sunset Prince in the midst of the ranks, of the columns, of the Unsullied, his sword drawn, pointed at the platforms…pointed, she thought, at the masters.
The dragon moved, the ground rumbling as the beast moved, and all heads swivelled towards the dragon as the dragon's serpentine neck turned towards the men who stood at the walls above the platforms. Yet, their heads swivelled once more when the raw and firm voice of the Sunset Prince was heard.
"BE FREE, UNSULLIED, FOR ALL TIME AND SLAY THE GOOD MASTERS, SLAY THEIR SOLDIERS, SLAY ANY MAN OR WOMAN WHO WEARS A TOKAR OR HOLDS A WHIP AND FREE ALL THOSE BOUND IN CHAINS."
"ARROWS! ARROWS!" one of the Good Masters screamed as he stumbled over his feet "KILL THEM ALLL!"
…
…
…
Chaos.
Blood splattered over her face and on her dress as sword cut flesh and bone and metal sang with dull thunders and sharp clangs.
…
…
…
Chaos delighted as blue flames turned a second sun, molten stone sizzled and flesh and bone were made ash and ash filled the air.
…
…
…
Chaos prospered when spears ran through the bodies of men that wedded the destinies of the Unsullied to the very spears that claimed their lives.
…
…
And Chaos promised to sing until the light of the next morn when columns, ranks, of Unsullied marched through molten gates into Astapor proper.
…
"You hurt, girl?"
The voice of another, a voice that was not terrified, or begged or cried, cleared her vision, and clarity of mind grew.
She drew her eyes away from the backs of the marching Unsullied and towards the voice and her eyes widened at the sight of a blooded man with his armoured tinged with red marks and deep grooves that chipped away the blue paint on the armour.
She flinched when the man leaned forward with a blooded gauntlet and he paused in his motion "I ain't going to hurt you girl." She recognised the strangely gentle voice…Galaenys…it was that foreigner.
She took the hand and she was brought her feet in one fell swoop and she winced slightly. "You are hurt then." The man said as he looked her over and she blinked before she touched her body for any wounds.
She shook her head "This one has hurt her ankle in the fall, oh blessed one."
"Ah don't call me that crap." The man complained with a sour note and a sour face. "There is nothing blessed about me never mind the shitstains that force you to call other shitstains that seven damned crap." She was taken aback by the way he was speaking. It was very different to…before.
The man paused as he eyed her keenly.
"What is your name girl? I can't keep calling you girl."
"This one's name is Zimine, oh ble-" she stopped when he raised his hand.
"Call me Ser Galaenys or Galaenys or any other version of my name. Just stop with the slaver honorifics, would ya?" Galaenys said sourly with a shake of the head before he turned away from her and looked towards the distance.
"You see that Ziminay?" Galaenys said and she looked to where he was looking and she saw that it was towards the gates. She saw, as she strained with her eyes, a few dozen folk nearing the front gates…folk she realised, were some of the other girls. And, as she looked towards the steps, she saw two of the girls and a few of the slave scribes making their way to the front of the gates too, walking alongside a few of the foreigners who seemed to be carrying one of theirs, who looked to be dead, with them.
She turned and looked around and her eyes widened at the sight of the head of her master and the butchered bodies of all of the other masters and high born guards and memories flashed in her mind, flashes of swords clashing with other, with swords burying themselves in the stomachs of her ma- of her former master.
Former master…
She also saw some of the bodies of the others, amongst them a girl named Odni, who seemed to have died next to one of the masters. A few of the foreigners were here too, though they seemed to be making sure everyone else is dead.
"Go join them and the few of my men. They'll take you to safety." Galaenys said and she looked back at him in a slow blin-
She jumped in fright at the sounds of harsh strange sound that sounded like how the dragon had sounded, her legs almost crumbling from beneath her when the pain of her hurt ankle travelled up, only saved from falling by the strong hands of the man before her.
"Steady there…go, girl. Ziminay. It'll be over soon enough." He said to her as he guided her to the steps and when she looked to her right, she saw great pillars of smoke rising beyond the walls…where the harbour was.
"What will be over?" she asked dumbfounded as she looked at this blood-faced man.
A smile was on his face, an unsmiling smile, and for the first time, she really begun to understand what was happening, even before he spoke to her. "There'll be no more slavers in this city when we're done with it. Everyone will be free."
Freedom…
She felt a strange stir in her heart, a stir that stirred stronger than ever, akin to a storm brewing in a pot, and her eyes widened at the realisation…at the acceptance.
'So that is what this feeling means…'
Freedom.
-Break-
Mid to Late 112 AC – Astapor
Trytas POV
The seas were awash with floating green fire and burnt and burning husks of ships, some still aflame with fires the hues of blues and greens, their oars catching driftwood every tenth stroke as they threaded the narrow passageways towards the shores, the sounds of crackling fire wrestling with the sounds of oars pushing water, with the sounds of distant fighting and distant screams.
Trytas clenched tighter on the hilt of his sword, more out of relief than the tension that he felt. He, and many others, had intensely hated the Prince's plan to secure the Unsullied. It was risky. Far too risky.
Their Prince's life could not be so casually risked. Yet the Prince was steadfast despite their protestations and they had to obey their Prince, and the fact the Prince was so certain, so sure, in the deception's success, did little to un-wrangle the doubt, the first time he'd ever doubted Prince Aegon, from his mind.
The risk and the price was too high. Far too high. And what was the point of this retribution if their Prince perished? The Unsullied were not men. They were not even regular slaves with wants and needs. They don't even have cocks!
He shook his head, calming himself.
The Prince on his dragon setting the scum's ships aflame had brought a seven damned tear to his eyes! 'You magnificent bastard, I'll never doubt you again, my Prince' he vowed to himself. He shook his head, the tension in his hand loosening as he turned his head, looking over his shoulder from the place he sat, the seat in between the rowers, looking towards the seemingly endless number of rowboats behind them.
He looked away, back towards the front, the anticipation within him growing and the duty he, and the fellows of the boat and the boats in front of him, were called to carry out now lodging firmly in his mind.
'The Prince had done his part…now it was time for ours'
The water splashed as he jumped over the edge of the rowboat, the water warm and the sand feeling fine through his boots as he trudged towards the shore.
He looked towards the gate, a gate that was blown asunder by dragon fire, and saw only smoke and dust behind it.
"EVERYONE!" a voice bellowed, the voice of Randal. "FOLLOW ME TO THE FIRST PYRAMID!" he said once the last of their boats arrived.
"DO AS HE SAYS. DO NOT STRAY! FOCUS ON THE MISSION!" Trytas shouted as he began to run and caught up with Randal.
Soon enough, their company of four hundred made passed the ruined gates, their swords drawn as they slowed their pace but not so much that they endangered the speediness in which they had to operate. It would soon be night, likely less than three hours, and they had to be quick and be done with it.
They followed Randal, the man who memorised the maps and the streets and the locations of the pyramids like the back of his hand, through the haze of red dust and smoke. The chaos of the city was distracting, slaves and Unsullied and Ghiscari were having it out, a few times did they intercede on their way to the pyramids and a few times they had to call the Unsullied off from attacking them, though, for the most part, it was quieter than he expected, at least here.
He could hear the fighting was more intense deeper into the city.
They arrived at the first pyramid, a pyramid's whose outsides were tinged black with dragon fire and from the looks of it, Prince Aegon had long ago attacked this pyramid.
"Randall. Guide Christor and his command to the next pyramid. We shouldn't face too much of a problem here." Trytas commanded and soon enough, he entered the gaping of the pyramid of Nakloz, his sword drawn and his shield up.
He could hear men further up, he thought as he looked towards the blinding light at the end of the tunnel. The Pyramids were like miniature cities of a kind, with high walls protecting the interior which had buildings several floors up with massive rooms on each floor. Most had even had gardens, though few, Uthrik had said, had anything impressive as the supposed pristine gardens of the pyramid of Urriqiz.
They arrived at the other end of the tunnel and as he thought, they were greeted with a force of…just shy of a hundred men. The unsullied were less so, only twenty of them whilst the rest seemed to be common slave guards and the remaining seemingly brave Ghiscari noblemen.
Good for them, he thought to himself.
Beyond them, as he looked, he saw a few women and older men looking and shouting at them and he looked away and back at the men.
"Remember men." He said as his men broke off into their formations of four, enough to cover each others backs. "No quarter…no mercy."
…
Frightened dark eyes stared back at him as the pisshead gurgled on his blood, the stench of his shit and piss forcing its way into his nostrils and Trytas scowled as he ripped out his blade and with one fell swoop, he cut off the man's head before he turned to look at the battlefield and saw that there were few defenders remaining.
His eyes glanced over to the men that had fallen, his men, of whom he noted were three, including young Jarrod. "Bertie!" he shouted and the young man in question turned to look at him and Trytas gestured to their dead.
"Yes ser!" Bertie said with a nod. It wouldn't do for their men to be amongst the filth. They'd separate them out and give them proper burials before they took their ashes back to the ships, to be interned in the Hall of Heroes.
"Let's go." Trytas commanded the rest of his men after he'd ordered a few of his men to remain to guard their exits.
They made it through the pyramid, killing everything they saw swiftly and with deaf ears. Men, young and old alike. Women, young and old alike. After he drew out his wetted blade out of a old biddy, he heard a commotion in the room next, and he quickly made his way there.
He saw one of his men, one of the younger ones, full of anger, and full of passion, struggling to do the deed as the women and her child, a boy child that looked to be the age of seven, mayhaps six, clutched into her arms as she stood against the wall amidst the corpses of likely her family.
Her wild, desperate eyes turned towards him, her hysterics, which gnawed at his ears, carried through into her voice as she spoke, in Ghiscari Valyrian, to him.
"P-p-please! Mercy! I beg you, m-mercyy!" she wailed as she held on firmly onto her son "Sp-p-pare us, p-p-please..!"
The young man, Ser Brunn, turned to look at him, unsure and uncertain. Trytas sighed before he steeled himself and walked towards the woman, the tip of the blade rising and her hysterics only grew "N-no w-wwait! S-spare hi-"
Her words died in her words after he's pierced through her son and into her chest, the boy having been killed instantly as he'd driven through the spine, though, for the mother, death came slower. He saw her look towards the dead eyes of her son, the light slowly dimming, and Trytas did not know if it was because of how close she was to death or because of the death of her son, but he did not spend time thinking any more on it as he withdrew his sword from out of them, his body swivelling to meet the stricken gaze of the young man.
Trytas struck Brunn on the cheek with an open palm, stirring him out of his shock.
"Boy, remember your training. Do not let me find you hesitating again" he growled angrily at the young man. Fool, did he want to be caught out and die like a pig?
"I-I…" he began as his gaze flickered to the dead mother and son.
"Stop." Trytas growled out and the boy's eyes sharply returned to his and Trytas sighed before he shook his head, his eyes glancing at the dead family for a moment before he looked at Brunn again.
"These people…they cannot be allowed to live. They always fall back into what they remember…what they know…what their ancestors had accomplished. Not a decade after the Doom, these people decided to reclaim the Harpy and their Ghiscari origins as their own." Trytas placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, his eyes boring into the agonised eyes of the younger knight.
'Pah, the boy's stomach was not lined with thick enough iron.'
"And look what they have done with their freedom from Valyria. Look what they have done to the peoples of this land and beyond." Trytas said grimly. These people were a disease. They could not be allowed the chance to reclaim anything.
Never again.
His people will have their retribution and the slaves will have their freedom.
That was that.
"Young and old, they must go, Brunn, as terrible as it is." Trytas said as he tapped the shoulder of the young knight. "Only then, when the weed has been cleared, can the olive tree grow." He said, remembering the saying one of the pretty lasses say during a fun night at the tavern in Corinth.
"Do you understand?" Trytas said as he took his hand off of the knight's shoulder and Brunn, after a few conflicting emotions played out on his face, fortified himself and nodded firmly. "Good. Now fuck off and make yourself useful." He grumbled and so did the young man leave to join the rest of his fellows.
He watched Brunn go before he turned his gaze towards the dead people and then to the dead boy and the mother, a heavy look now on his face. 'May you find peace in the afterlife…whatever that may be.' He thought with a hard face before he shook himself and went off, to do the same he ordered Brunn to do.
It was some time later that they were sure that they'd cleared out the pyramid of all life, save for the freed slaves, most of whom were women and girls – whom they had sworn to secrecy, something that they were more than happy to do once they understood what was happening – and the few noble children aged three namedays or less. These ones would be marked with the same brands as the children born in slavery and put into orphanages to be raised by the people of this city.
Their lives would be spared and the taint of their heritage would be forgotten into the annals of history. As it deserved to be.
"Brunn." He said as they arrived at the outside courtyard and the man in question looked at him "Go with the injured men and make sure those children make it back, will ya?" he said gruffly and he looked away from the surprised man's eyes as he raised his sword "Everyone else, on me! We still have six more pyramids to clean out!" he bellowed and soon enough, they made way to the next pyramid, to the next pulling of weeds.