"Eight hundred gold pieces for each Unsullied!" Ullhor said solemnly.
"Eight hundred?" Laenor clucked his tongue in surprise. In Slaver's Bay, the currency was worth as much as a gold dragon. Eight hundred gold dragons were enough to arm a skilled knight.
Aemon remained calm and asked, "How many Unsullied do you have?"
"Five thousand!" Ullhor clapped his hands, then laughed. "But the price is high. No one could possibly buy them all at once."
"I want them all," Aemon said.
Ullhor leaped to his feet, incredulous. "You're not deceiving 'benevolent' Ullhor. Do you really want to buy all the Unsullied? That would cost a full four million gold pieces. Do you know how much that is?" Even if it were loaded onto wagons, it would take a fleet.
"Money isn't a problem," Aemon said calmly. "The gold and pirates I brought this time are worth over a million gold pieces. The rest will be shipped in three installments from the Stepstones."
"Do you want to buy on credit?" Ullhor was instantly wary.
This time, Aemon didn't need to speak up. Laenor stood up and asked, "Do you think a Targaryen and regent of the Iron Throne would default on his debt?" The difference between "buying on credit" and "defaulting on debt" made the atmosphere tense.
Ullhor remained silent, his expression shifting unpredictably. Honestly, he was terrified of the two dragons in the city. But then again, he had no conscience.
"How can you guarantee full payment?" Ullhor, feeling uneasy, turned and offered some wiggle room. "If you agree to one condition, I'll let you take two thousand five hundred Unsullied first."
"No, I won't agree to any conditions," Aemon said flatly.
"Why?" Ullhor was puzzled and irritated. "I've made the most generous offer. All you need to do is return a small favor." In that moment, the merchant's mercenary nature was fully exposed.
Aemon met his opponent's eyes and said casually, "You're not worthy."
Ullhor's face froze, and he clenched his scepter. It was clear that Aemon wasn't going to let him go. He slowly stood up, pointing his right hand. "I want to buy all the Unsullied. You or any other lord are not allowed to refuse, or it will be considered disrespectful." Arrogance seeped through his every word and action.
"Do you understand?" Aemon stared intently and spoke in pure High Valyrian, a language different from Astapor's.
"You..." Ullhor stiffened his neck, his eyes blazing with rage. A slave owner and a dragon rider. Both sides displayed the power of their origins to the fullest.
"Are you going to start a war?" Ullhor couldn't hold back his anger; his words were laced with Ghis's accent. His eyelids twitched as the words left his mouth. A wave of humiliation washed over him. He realized that the other party didn't take him seriously from the perspective of a dragonlord.
Aemon sneered.
The next second—
The pyramid trembled slightly and a fierce wind blew over the city, accompanied by the thunderous roar of a dragon.
"Hiss—"
A shadow fell overhead. Ullhor darted outside, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of a long, thick dragon's tail. The wind blew into the open pavilion, sending petals and leaves swirling wildly. Ullhor scrambled to shield himself, narrowly avoiding being blown over.
"Thank you for your hospitality, but I'm not the 'merciful' dragon rider of the past." Aemon's smile faded, and he spoke each word with measured precision. "If you displease me, I'll gladly feed you to the dragons."
Ullhor was stunned. He had never seen such impoliteness.
"Cousin," Laenor said, lost in thought.
Aemon, now with silver hair and wearing red clothing, pointed with one hand and held the other akimbo. A dragon-shaped Valyrian steel ring adorned his outstretched finger, its two ruby dragon eyes gleaming faintly. He was clearly arrogant, yet handsome. In contrast, Ullhor was dressed strangely with a bald head and a scepter. He looked like a villainous wizard from a short story. Laenor was almost mesmerized by his preconceived notion. His cousin was so arrogant. Why hadn't he noticed before? But he really liked it.
Ullhor's face was grim; he felt completely humiliated. Yet, he didn't dare take action. The two before him weren't the Valyrians who were killed by civilians after the apocalypse, as written in Reece's biography. They had dragons—real dragons. If their masters were harmed, who knew what a dragon without a master would do?
"Speak! Don't be mute," Aemon urged.
Ullhor took two deep breaths, gritted his teeth, and said, "Let's not negotiate terms. Let's talk about cooperation. I can reduce the price of your Unsullied by 20%."
"Oh?" Aemon said with interest.
Three days later:
At the edge of the Summer Sea, within the Gulf of Grief:
Fifty warships entered the sea and sailed toward the island where the new city-state of Ghis was to be established.
"Shh!"
A cry echoed from the sky, and a pale silver dragon flapped its wings, leaving the fleet far behind.
Boom!
Thin clouds gathered and dispersed. A pair of brown wings covered the sky and slowly disappeared above the clouds.
A fleet of two dragons and five thousand Unsullied launched a surprise attack on New Ghis.
A three-headed red dragon banner flew from the first large ship in the fleet.
Aemon leaned against the railing and teased, "Can't speak?"
A young Unsullied officer in black armor stood beside him. He held a spear and round shield and wore a three-spiked helmet. He stood straight with an expressionless face.
"Whatever you want me to say, I will do my best," the young officer replied, nodding slightly.
Aemon remained silent, studying the man carefully. Just a thin layer of black stubble remained beneath his helmet, and he had the standard bald head of the Unsullied. His skin was dark, with tan undertones. Judging by his appearance, he was of Ghis descent, not the dark race of the Summer Isles.
Seeing the distinguished guest of the Good Lord sizing him up, the young officer stood at attention, playing the role of an obedient puppet meticulously.
"What's your name?" Aemon asked, deliberately trying to draw closer.
"Grey Worm," the young officer replied. "The Unsullied don't have specific names. They're rotated by lot every morning."
Aemon smiled and asked a few more questions. He had reached an agreement with Ullhor, as well as with the Good Lords of Astapor. In exchange for an early transfer of 5,000 Unsullied and a 30% discount on the price, he would ride a dragon to attack New Ghis. The only payment was 2.8 million gold dragons.
"Will it really be that easy?" Aemon muttered to himself.
New Ghis is the most important city of the Ghis, yet it is also the smallest and youngest. It is built on an island in the Gulf of Grief. In recent years, New Ghis has grown rapidly, encroaching on Slaver's Bay's trade. The two city-states often engage in small-scale conflicts, especially with the nearest city, Astapor.
Ullhor had warmly entertained Aemon and Laenor for nearly a month, simply to keep them employed. Yet he was incredibly stingy and unwilling to sell to the "Dragon Lords," the Unsullied. That's why he kept delaying. News of the ongoing war between the Iron Throne and the Triarchy only emboldened him. He wanted to exploit the "merciful and just" Dragon Lords and play dirty.
"Hmph!" Aemon laughed silently. His arrogance and dominance were all an act for the Good Lords. Of course, much of it was his true nature.
Scratch that: it was just an act.
It was all because of the Targaryens' "bad reputation." Starting with Aenar the Exile, the Targaryens were outliers who sold their ancestral lands and moved to Dragonstone. Then came the Age of Blood. Before launching the Conqueror's War, Aegon the Conqueror and Argilac the Storm King helped the Three Cities (Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys) defeat invaders from Volantis. What a good man! After the war, he won the loyalty of the nobles of the six kingdoms with his generosity, earning him a great reputation. Later, Queen Rhaenys died, and the "Wrath of the Dragon" lasted for two years. A truce was finally reached with Dorne due to a letter of unknown content, and he died of depression two years later. The next generation saw Aenys I's weakness in governing the country and Maegor's usurpation of the throne, which resulted in his death on the Iron Throne. Great-grandfather Jaehaerys then ascended the throne and stabilized the country through compromise. The fourth generation was completely wiped out. The eldest uncle Viserys, of the fifth generation, was even more notorious for his weakness.
For more than two hundred years, the Targaryens had always appeared strong on the outside but weak on the inside. Aemon's goal was to change the world's perception of the Targaryens. The family of the Dragon Lord should look like the Dragon Lord. Powerful, noble, and arrogant.
Therefore, whether it was the Governor of Myr or the lord of Astapor, Aemon only cared about rough treatment. Don't try to reason with me; you don't deserve it. I am the Dragon Rider. Choose one: suffer a loss or consume dragonfire.
Looking around, he saw that the deck was filled with Unsullied. Clearly, he had completed half of the task.
"The remaining half," Aemon said, his violet eyes deep.
Each of the Good Lords of Astapor commanded a certain number of Unsullied. Ullhor had the most—more than all the others combined. In order to maintain his position, he wouldn't sell them all. Besides, a greedy slave owner wouldn't willingly lower the price and suffer a loss.
So...
"If I survive, I'd be honored to command your legion," Grey Worm replied.
Aemon had just asked Grey Worm if he would manage all the Unsullied after purchasing them. Those assigned to Aemon's side were generally the most capable officers.
"Very well," Aemon said with a smile. "In Westeros, you will no longer be slaves, but my soldiers."
Grey Worm nodded in agreement.
"Your Highness, here is the information on New Ghis."
A tall slave girl with curly black hair and dark skin approached, carrying a stack of papers. Her name was Diana, and she was from the Summer Isles. She was half Ghis. She had been Ullhor's attendant and translator for the past six months. Don't ask why only six months; no slave could stay with the benevolent master for long. Every three to five years, the attendant slaves underwent a major rotation.
Aemon glanced at her, then took the information and flipped through it. Nothing unusual; it was enough to cover the area.
"Please tell me if you need anything," he said.
Diana bowed. For a slave girl, she was quite well-dressed: She wore a black leather skirt and high boots that revealed only a glimpse of her chest, thighs, and arms. These areas could arouse desire, and slave girls relied on their beauty.
"Not bad. Very detailed," Aemon said, offering a pretentious compliment.
Diana smiled professionally.
"Tell me about Master Ullhor."
Aemon took two steps forward, motioning for her to follow him.
Diana paused for a moment before smiling and saying, "No problem." As a slave girl, she wasn't required to entertain others. Being assigned to the Dragon rider's bedchamber was part of her duties, though.
Aemon led her directly into the hold. After they left, the deck, which was filled with Unsullied, fell silent. The only sound was the crash of the waves. Grey Worm stood at attention for a long moment, his eyes slightly tilted to the side. Then, he resumed his rigid stance.
Evening.
In New Ghis, a fire raged.
"Hiss!"
Vermithor hovered above the low city walls, lowering his head and spewing dragonfire as bright as copper foil.
With a rumble—
—the instant the dragonfire descended, the walls exploded and collapsed. The defenders behind them were engulfed in the spray.
"Attack!"
Five thousand Unsullied disembarked and scaled the walls using ladders. Grey Worm led the charge, throwing his spear through the garrison commander's head.
"Hiss!"
Seasmoke swirled along the shoreline, unleashing streams of dragonfire that crushed the sea defenses. With both fronts lost, the small city-state quickly fell.
"Capture the slave owners and wealthy merchants, and free the slaves!" Aemon rode on dragonback and raised his arms and shouted. Five thousand Unsullied formed a shield formation and advanced.
In the blink of an eye, half the city was reduced to a sea of fire, and shrill screams and wails echoed through the air.
It lasted all night.
The next day, at dawn,
The city's largest square was filled with people. On the stage, hundreds of slave owners knelt. The Unsullied stood below, maintaining order and watching over tens of thousands of slaves from all walks of life.
Aemon stood on the stage and observed his surroundings. The slaves were yellow-faced, muscular, and dressed in tattered, revealing clothing. They were far inferior to the slaves of Astapor. The slave owners of New Ghis were even crueler than the Good Masters.
"I am Aemon Targaryen, descended from the Dragonlords of Old Valyria!" Aemon raised his arm and boomed. "I have taken this city, but I will not enslave people like my ancestors did. I will bring justice and freedom."
The slaves trembled in fear as they timidly looked at the silver-haired figure on the stage. He had ridden a bronze dragon and led the Unsullied into New Ghis. Fortunately, the invaders spared civilians and slaves, killing only the slave soldiers who resisted and the city's defenders. They also bound the slave owners.
"Who will tell me about the slave owners' crimes?" Aemon finished his speech, pointing to the slaves below.
After a long wait, no one responded. Unsurprised, Aemon winked at Diana, who stood beside him. With her wit, Diana stepped down and summoned a dozen or so miserable-looking slaves. Her voice was gentle, and she was kind. The slaves, both men and women, followed her timidly.
Next came the identification process. Who hasn't been oppressed by slave owners? Who hasn't been forced to sell their children?
"He killed my child!"
"He's the biggest slave trader in the city. He's sent many men into the arena."
"..."
A spark ignited the evil, creating an opening.
"From now on, there will be no slaves in New Ghis!" Aemon pointed at the prostrate slavers, his face cold. "They have committed a crime, so execute them."
"Grey Worm, bring your men." Grey Worm's expression was impassive. "Yes." His armor was stained with blood after a night of fighting. But he was in good spirits and held on.
He summoned ten Unsullied officers who stood behind Slaver's Bay with spears in hand.
"Execute!" Aemon shouted.
Puff! Puff! Puff!
Grey Worm and his men showed no mercy. They ignored the slavers' struggles and pleas for mercy as they stabbed them in the heart.
"Next," Aemon said, waving his hand.
There were over a hundred slavers, great and small. Including their families, the city's slave buyers, the owners of unscrupulous workshops, smugglers, and rapists, there were about three hundred heads.
Starting with Grey Worm, Unsullied officers wearing three- and two-spurred helmets were executed in groups of ten. These were high-ranking Unsullied officers and centurions. After executing them, they selected ordinary Unsullied in spiked helmets to carry out the rest of the executions.
"Execute!" Grey Worm's voice rose.
Aemon glanced over. It was clear that he was growing accustomed to displaying a hint of relief. But he didn't dare show it, as if doing so would sully the sanctity of the moment.
"You try it too."
Aemon pulled out the "Lady of the Void" and handed it to Diana beside him.
"Me?" Diana was stunned.
"Don't dare?" Aemon asked back.
Diana lowered her eyes and replied, "I'm an interpreter and have never touched a weapon."
Aemon didn't respond; he just handed her the "Lady of the Void." It was up to her whether to take it or not.
Diana looked at Aemon, who was acting casually, and then at the noble Valyrian steel sword. Gritting her teeth, she reached out to take it. Taking two steps at a time, she walked to a white-haired slave owner and muttered, "You own three brothels that specialize in trafficking young female slaves."
She listed all the crimes he had committed.
"Woo woo woo~"
The old slave owner was gagged and shook his head in fear.
Diana closed her eyes and suddenly swung her hands down.
Puff!
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