The next morning.
The Plaza of Punishment.
Rows of shirtless Unsullied stood in neat formations across the plaza, like lifeless clay figures.
They gripped spears and shields, their heads covered by spiked bronze helmets that revealed only their hollow, numb eyes.
Before them, a man as fat as a ball of suet reclined on a lavish litter carried by four slaves.
Kraznys mo Nakloz.
One of the richest Good Masters in Astapor, and the largest supplier of Unsullied.
He wore a voluminous tokar, his oily skin glistening in the sun. Carefully oiled braids of black and red hair hung from the sides of his otherwise bald head.
Beside him stood a small, slender figure.
Missandei.
Led by Jorah Mormont, Lynn and his party slowly walked into the plaza.
Viserys strode in front, head held high, trying to affect the bearing of a king. But his eyes, darting nervously across the ranks of Unsullied soldiers, betrayed his inner cowardice.
Daenerys followed closely behind Lynn, her beautiful violet eyes filled with disgust for this place of sin.
Kraznys lazily lifted his eyelids, his beady eyes sweeping over the group from behind layers of fat.
When his gaze landed on Daenerys, he made no attempt to hide his lechery and contempt.
He spoke to another Good Master beside him in vulgar Ghiscari.
"Look at that little silver-haired bitch. Her skin is white enough, I wonder if she can handle a good pounding in bed."
The other Good Master let out a lewd chuckle.
They assumed these western savages couldn't understand the noble tongue of Ghis.
However, they didn't know that Daenerys had spent her life in exile across the Free Cities. To survive, she had learned many languages.
She understood every insulting word clearly.
Her cheeks flushed red instantly, her hand tightening on Lynn's sleeve.
Lynn acted as if nothing had happened. He simply patted the back of her hand gently, signaling her to stay calm.
"Noble Master Kraznys."
Jorah Mormont stepped forward, speaking in fluent Valyrian.
"My master, Lord Lynn of Westeros, has come to discuss the purchase of the Unsullied."
Kraznys yawned and waved his hand lazily.
Missandei understood immediately. She stepped forward and translated into the Common Tongue.
"The Good Master Kraznys welcomes you all. He is pleased to show you his most perfect masterpieces."
"Tell him I have no interest in his eunuchs," Viserys said impatiently from the side.
"I just want to know when he will hand over the army and get out of my sight."
Kraznys looked at Viserys's arrogant expression and asked Missandei in Ghiscari, "What is that silver-haired pretty boy barking about?"
Missandei stiffened slightly, but translated without expression.
"This lord is praising the strength and discipline of the Unsullied. He cannot wait to possess them."
Daenerys couldn't listen anymore.
She stepped forward, about to speak, but Lynn pulled her back.
He looked at her and shook his head gently.
Then, he walked forward, his gaze bypassing the obese Good Masters and landing directly on the statue-like Unsullied.
"I heard you are the best slaver in Astapor."
Lynn finally spoke. He used pure High Valyrian, his accent even more standard than any Good Master present.
The smile on Kraznys's face froze.
He hadn't expected this seemingly ordinary Northern savage to speak the language of the Old Empire.
"I heard you want my dragon."
Lynn's next sentence plunged the entire plaza into a deathly silence.
The fat on Kraznys's face twitched. A flicker of annoyance at being seen through flashed in his beady eyes.
But he quickly recovered, plastering on the hypocritical smile of a merchant.
"My Lord, you joke," Missandei translated dutifully, though Kraznys was already speaking. "A dragon is a mythical creature, a priceless treasure. How could it be traded?"
"Is that so?" Lynn smiled.
"But I heard you boasted to everyone at the council that you would trade eight thousand eunuchs for a real dragon."
Kraznys's expression changed completely.
He stared fixedly at Lynn, as if trying to read from his calm face just how much he knew.
"Since that is the case, let us not waste time."
Lynn's gaze swept across the plaza, over the eight thousand disciplined Unsullied, and to the boys training in the distance.
"All the Unsullied. Including the ones still in training."
"I want them all."
Lynn didn't even look at Kraznys.
His eyes remained on the eight thousand soldiers. They stood shirtless, their bronze skin glistening with sweat under the fierce sun. On their chests, the hideous mark of the Harpy was branded deep.
The brand of slavery.
"Look at them!"
Seeing Lynn inspecting his "merchandise," Kraznys smiled smugly.
He pointed his ivory-handled whip at the Unsullied, boasting to Missandei in Valyrian.
"You will be satisfied."
"I swear, this is the best decision you will ever make."
"Perfect killing machines!"
"No fear. No mercy. No pain!"
"For their master, they will kill a babe in swaddling clothes. They will eat the flesh of their fallen comrades without hesitation!"
"They don't even have names, only numbers!"
"That way, they develop no useless emotions!"
Missandei kept her head down, translating:
"The Good Master says the Unsullied are the most loyal warriors in the world. They will obey your every command."
Lynn's gaze swept over their numb faces.
He saw it.
Beneath that deathly numbness, there were tiny flames, suppressed to the extreme.
Hatred. Unwillingness. Desire.
Last night, the gold coins Jorah Mormont had scattered, and the words "Your lives are worth more than a pyramid," were like sparks thrown into a field of dry tinder.
Now, all it needed was a breeze.
"Tell him," Lynn finally said.
"I am very interested in all his Unsullied."
"I agree to the trade."
Hearing Missandei's translation, the fat on Kraznys's face squeezed together in a grin.
"Good! It seems this Westerosi has some sense!"
He tapped his belly with the whip handle.
"Tell him, eight thousand Unsullied, along with their weapons and armor, are all his!"
"I only want one thing."
Kraznys raised a stubby finger and pointed to the sky.
The meaning was self-evident.
Daenerys looked nervously at Lynn, her palms slick with sweat.
Lynn ignored Viserys. He looked only at Kraznys and nodded slowly.
"Done."
One word, and the atmosphere solidified.
Missandei frowned.
Daenerys's face lost all color.
Jorah Mormont was thinking hard.
And Kraznys looked as if he had heard the most beautiful music, greedy ecstasy erupting in his small eyes!
He had succeeded!
He had actually swindled a dragon with a group of slaves!
"A wise decision! Very wise!"
Kraznys almost danced with joy.
He eagerly unhooked a whip made of pure gold, inlaid with a Harpy statue, from his waist.
"This is the Scourge of Command!"
"Take it, and these Unsullied belong entirely to you!"
He held the whip out to Lynn. Deep in his eyes, a cruel murderous intent flashed.
As soon as the other party took the whip and handed over the dragon, he would immediately order the eight thousand Unsullied to tear these foolish Westerosi to pieces!
Lynn did not take the whip.
He took a step forward, walking up to the Unsullied named "Grey Worm" whom Jorah had mentioned.
He took the cold spear from Grey Worm's hand.
"Too light."
Lynn weighed the spear and shook his head.
Kraznys paused, looking at him in confusion.
"But, it should be enough to kill pigs."
Lynn finished speaking and turned around.
He didn't look at Kraznys. Instead, he looked at the eight thousand Unsullied and spoke, word by word, in a language no one expected.
High Valyrian.
And he spoke it more purely, more anciently than the slaver Kraznys—with the majesty and arrogance of the conquerors of the Old Empire.
"Dovaogēdys! Naejot memēbātās! Kelītīs!"
(Unsullied! Halt! Attention!)
The smile on Kraznys's face froze instantly.
Missandei jerked her head up, her black eyes filled with shock.
Viserys looked as if he had seen a ghost, his mouth gaping wide, unable to utter a sound.
And the eight thousand statue-like Unsullied, upon hearing the command, reacted almost instinctively. They snapped to attention in unison, heels together, spear shafts slamming heavily onto the ground.
Thud—!
Eight thousand thuds merged into a single, muffled boom.
It felt as if the very ground of Astapor trembled!
Their movements were no longer numb obedience.
Those faces were filled with suppressed rage.
"You... how do you..."
Kraznys pointed at Lynn, the fat on his face jiggling violently with fear.
He finally realized that what stood before him wasn't a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
It was a dragon in sheep's clothing!
Lynn ignored him.
He raised the spear in his hand and, in that ancient and majestic tongue, issued a deafening proclamation to the eight thousand warriors.
"Āeksiot zōbrī, se dāria zōbrī, prūmȳsa sytivī. Kesys tubī, se gōvilī."
(I am the Lord of the Golden Dragon, Consort to the Queen. I promise you this. Today, I give you freedom.)
Freedom!
The word exploded like thunder in the mind of every Unsullied!
They stared blankly at the man standing before them, spear in hand.
"Jentyssy, ziksoso udlissi. Iksoso zentyssy."
(You are warriors, not slaves.)
"Skoriot gaomā, konir sagon zentyssy."
(What will you fight for? For those who treat you as livestock?)
Lynn's spear pointed at the now pale-faced Kraznys.
"Yn syt gaomā, konir sagon ziksoso tubī daor."
(Or for those who are willing to bleed for you?)
"Jenti, ziksoso zentys, gaomā daor."
(Fight for freedom, not for slavery!)
Lynn's voice echoed across the plaza.
The breathing of the eight thousand Unsullied grew heavy.
The brands on their chests seemed to burn.
Veins popped on the hands gripping their spears.
In their hollow eyes, the fire suppressed for countless years was finally, truly ignited!
Grey Worm was the first to move.
He threw down his shield, took a step forward, and knelt on one knee before Lynn.
"Dārys, iksan zentys."
(My King, I am a free man.)
With the first, came the second, the third...
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Thousands upon thousands of Unsullied threw down the shields that symbolized slavery and obedience.
In perfect unison, they dropped to one knee, offering their first allegiance as "free men" to the man who had given them new life and hope!
The sight was enough to pale the heavens and the earth!
Daenerys watched the scene, tears blurring her vision.
Her King used no dragon, no slaughter.
With just a few sentences, he had conquered the city's most powerful army.
No, this wasn't conquest.
This was liberation!
"No... impossible..."
Kraznys collapsed to the ground, wailing in despair.
"You damned eunuchs! You dare betray me!"
"Kill them! I command you! Kill them!"
However, not a single Unsullied obeyed him.
They simply looked at the master who had once treated them as toys with eyes full of endless killing intent.
Lynn walked slowly to Kraznys and handed Grey Worm's spear back to him.
"The trade is complete, Good Master."
Lynn took the golden whip, the symbol of command, from Kraznys's hand.
"Eight thousand Unsullied now belong to me."
"As for the dragon..."
Lynn looked up at the sky.
A dragon roar that pierced the clouds rang out from the horizon!
Winter's massive body, blotting out the sun, broke through the clouds and appeared over Astapor!
Three giant heads cast the shadow of death.
The terrifying dragon-fear, cold enough to freeze the soul, instantly enveloped the entire plaza!
"He is here, too."
Lynn looked at Kraznys, a smile appearing on his face.
"Now, let's discuss the other half of the price you owe."
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