In nearly two years since Gremm sacked Astapor and became its City Lord, the city had seen constant development and renovation.
The city was so clean that it was a stark contrast to Yunkai and Meereen, and once the poorest of the three cities now looked and felt the most prosperous, given how active the port was, its bustling docks alive with the creak of ships and the shouts of merchants.
The red dust from the crumbling bricks of Astapor no longer contaminated the air, and every old house and building now had a glossy red sheen to its walls, which had all been repaired, gleaming under the sun like polished rubies.
Even the harpy statues were mended, and more statues were built and installed all over the city.
There were dragon statues, statues of Droarg, which were dragons with four legs, griffins and hippogriff statues, and even a statue of a giant ape and an elephant present in the New Plaza, their stone forms casting long shadows over the vibrant market stalls below.
A second line of walls was also being built, expanding the territory of the city, and the old walls were being repaired and fortified with the help of sorcery and the slaves. Yes, sorcery.
The sorcerers worked at night, and in the mornings, the people would find and marvel at their great progress, the freshly raised stonework cool to the touch and shimmering faintly with residual magic.
Though people were curious, they did not dare to spy on the work of the sorcerers. The orders were strict, and the Unsullied and the City Watch were always there to catch the troublemakers. A few had tried their luck but were caught and punished.
Now, with the arrival of the princesses and the princes of the Summer Kingdom, the City Lord announced plans for a new residential district for the soldiers of the City Watch and the Copper Legions and their families. Large houses, and permanent residences, all paid for by the Crown in a show of appreciation for those who had chosen and signed contracts to serve in the military for a long term.
It was news that shocked the residents, delighted the soldiers and their families, most of whom were former slaves or those who had recently immigrated to Astapor, and filled the hearts of those who had hesitated to commit themselves to the Copper Legions or the City Watch with immense regret.
It was too late for such people to change their minds now as there were no spots left in the Copper Legions, which were 8,000 strong, and the City Watch, which was 1,000 strong.
Unlike the Iron Legions of Dragonport, which served for three to five years, the Copper Legions of Astapor had a mandatory service for twelve years after training for three years under the Unsullied and the military instructors from Dragonport. It was a commitment of fifteen years in total, and if anyone desired to continue their service at the end of these fifteen years, the Lord Commanders would choose their fate and offer them contracts of five additional years as long as they would be deemed fit enough to continue as soldiers of Astapor.
Importantly, for a family to keep receiving the military benefits, which included a handsome bonus every year, the right to own more properties, and fewer taxes, at least one man from their house had to serve in the military at all times.
The dangers of the military service and the long-term commitment of the contracts, which if breached and broken would push the offender back into slavery, were the reason why the free men had hesitated to join the Copper Legions. The rules for the City Watch were less strict, but there were only 1,000 of them and their responsibilities were immense.
The City Watch were the most respected people on the streets, guarding the common folk, protecting them, keeping order, and catching criminals. It was already an order that the young children looked forward to joining one day, their polished copper badges glinting in the sunlight as they patrolled.
Things were the same for the Copper Legions, who had beautiful copper armours, shields, spears, and curved swords on their waists.
Children were allowed to watch their training sessions every fifth day in the barracks, and it was an event that many attended, the air filled with the rhythmic clank of metal and the shouts of instructors.
As for those who had missed the opportunity to join either of the two orders, they could only sigh at their luck and blame themselves.
Unbeknownst to the people who were now regretting the missed opportunity, the Copper Legions were never designed for the likes of them.
They were only for the people who believed in the laws and codes of the Summer Kingdom and saw hope in it, enough to pledge their lives in the service to the Crown.
For this very reason, several Lhazarene villages as well as a few Ghiscari villages had been invited into the city over the last fifteen moons, promising safety from the Dothraki and the slavers.
Doors were also opened to the refugees.
Many slaves who had escaped their masters, and people who had nowhere to go, decided to take refuge in Astapor after learning that they and their families were not going to be enslaved if they chose to work in the service of city management, the military, or opened their own business.
These immigrants numbered around thirty thousand, and exactly 4,750 of the 8,000 soldiers of the Copper Legions came from them.
The Lhazareens had especially been granted their own lands to cultivate, and the Master of Agriculture of Astapor helped them out with everything they needed, the scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming crops wafting through their new fields.
To their glee and comfort, a large temple of the Great Shepherd was also being built for them, and according to the laws of the city, they were free to practise their faith and preach it.
There was also a growing influence of the followers of the Lord of Light in the city, where the red priests and the slaves of R'hllor preached and sang their praises for the Summer Kingdom and the Summer King, their voices echoing through the streets at dusk.
Most Astapori and the new residents of the city were still in shock at how dramatically their lives had changed.
For the majority, the city was slowly transforming into a haven they would lay their lives for if ever threatened.
The few days Rhaenys and the rest spent in the city were quite memorable.
Those who were not aware of the development projects were amazed at how much the Summer King was spending on his people.
The Tyrells, though rich, could never imagine spending such large sums on the people who were not their military force. It was not how most of the world operated.
However, the most impressive thing about both Astapor and Dragonport was the law and order of the two cities.
Everyone had to respect the laws, no matter how rich or influential they were, and those who broke the laws were made an example of in the Plaza of Punishment, the grim air of justice hanging heavy over the square.
The severity of the punishments varied depending on the crimes, but even young boys and girls were not spared. Every Astapori was also well-informed about the laws, and how would they not be? There were people on the streets, appointed by the City Lord, whose sole job was to keep announcing the key laws of the city to the public on repeat, their voices carrying over the chatter of the markets.
By the time the Tyrells returned to Dragonport with Rhaenys, they had remembered all the laws of Astapor by heart.
On the same day Rhaenys returned, Azaerys took seventy-two sky riders with him, including the two Dothraki brothers, Rakharo and Vrakho, to Vaes Dothrak.
The journey took them nearly two days with a good sleep, and they reached their destination just past midnight.
This year, there were a lot more people in the sacred city of horselords, dozens of different khalasars, and even at night, the city looked vibrant with brightly lit torches and firepits, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the tents.
Without any care or urgency, Azaerys ordered his sky riders to have their meal and get their sleep, which they did. He too rested his back against the tree and closed his eyes, and it was not until the sky had brightened that he opened them.
Feeling refreshed, he and his sky riders visited a tavern, where they had their breakfast, the aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread filling the air.
A lot of people in the city wanted to greet the Summer King. Some had been waiting for his arrival for over a moon.
There were people from as far as the plains of Jogos Nhai who had brought gifts for the Summer King, and Azaerys did not refuse them or their goodwill.
It was at noon that he and his sky riders rode out to the Horse Gate, and there was a sea of people waiting for them there.
Over a hundred thousand Dothraki warriors and even more people had gathered to watch his battles. There were people on top of nearby hills as well, and the Kharziks with him had a bad feeling about the day, the air thick with tension and the distant hum of anticipation.
"No matter what happens, I forbid you to step out of the bounds of Vaes Dothrak. I forbid you from drawing your weapons."
His words only tensed them up even more, but they wisely kept quiet and acknowledged his orders.
Azaerys calmly rode out of the bounds of the city and then got off his hippogriff.
He took off his cloak, revealing a white shirt underneath, and the purple sash on his waist.
However, he did not take out the Truth from its scabbard.
Instead, he unwrapped a sword case of the Valyrian steel arakh that had a golden hilt, whose wheel pommel had the images of hippogriffs on one side and the griffins on the other.
It was the arakh he had got his hands on last year in this place, and whose hilt had been reworked by Ser Horace when he visited Siren.
His daughter, Elaena, called the sword Sky Dancer, and he chose to keep it as its name.
"Greetings, horselords." He smiled at the Dothraki after he sent his hippogriff back inside the bounds of Vaes Dothrak and then stepped forward to take challenges. "Who wants to meet their god first?"
There were war cries, sharp and rising, all around him as soon as he finished speaking, but Azaerys' heart neither slowed down nor raced.
His smile stayed on his lips, and it brightened when a khal stepped forward, carrying a slightly longer arakh than usual.
"I am Temmo, son of Rhogo!" He declared.
Azaerys had an impression of this horselord.
Rakharo had told him about the khals with the strongest khalasars in the Grassy Sea.
Khal Temmo had a khalasar of over a hundred thousand people, including women, children, and slaves. And he had over thirty thousand strong Dothraki warriors with him.
After the late Shako, Khal Temmo and Khal Drogo were considered the mightiest of all khals.
The Targaryen King looked at his opponent, and a smile formed on his lips.
"Your Horse God awaits you, Son of Rhogo."
"I will rip your corpse open and eat your liver, Khal of Skies..."
Azaerys' brow twitched at the name these Dothraki had given him, but he did not correct the man. He knew that the dosh khaleen were playing their own games.
Both of them calmly started circling each other, and Temmo was already staying a little low on his legs, ready to spring.
The khal lunged at him when he had assessed him enough, at a speed which was quite terrifying.
When the swords finally clashed, there was a resonating clang, and then the two warriors started a death dance.
One arakh sparkled under the bright sun, and the other was like a blur, almost like a shadow, but with a shiny guard and pommel.
As their battle continued, the warriors around them, who were cheering for the Dothraki, started quietening down, and by the time the Targaryen King severed the head of Khal Temmo from his shoulder, they were all holding their breaths.
Azaerys jerked his sword, splashing the blood on it onto the ground, and then waited for someone to step forward.
The bloodriders of Temmo, all three of them, as expected, stepped forward.
Once the head and the body of the slain khal were taken away, all three rushed at him after he mocked them, and an even deadlier battle started.
The Kharziks who were watching the dragonlord fighting for the first time could not help but feel chills run up their spines.
They prided themselves on being warriors, but watching him battle with grace and authority, they felt humbled. It was the same for the Dothraki.
He was braver than them. He was stronger than them. He was faster than them. And he was more skilled than them.
The Sky Dancer cut the three heads clean one after the other when the horselords started to slow down, and the dragonlord took a few deep breaths and exhaled before looking at the khals who were watching the battle.
"Who..." His words had not even finished when an arrow was shot at him, embedding it in his left shoulder.
His body swayed, but he was quick to get out of the way of the second arrow.
Soon, his white shirt was stained with his red blood.
The Dothraki were shocked at what just happened, and the attacker, who tried to mix in the crowd, was soon found and caught.
"Give him to me." Azaerys stopped them from killing the man, and soon, the Dothraki dragged him over.
"You are dead, Summer King." The man, who had red and black hair, a Ghiscari, spoke in a bastard dialect of High Valyrian. "The harpies send their regards."
Azaerys did not bother with him and calmly cut the arrow, not taking it out of the wound, and then signalled to his hippogriff, who quickly came over to his side.
When his eyes finally landed on the man, foam was already forming out of his mouth. He was an assassin, indoctrinated to lay his life when caught.
The Summer King grabbed his Valyrian steel dirk that was attached to the saddle and plunged it right into the chest of the harpy, who gasped in pain.
He was already dying and growing numb, but now he felt a rush of warmth, which was soon followed by a fire that burned him from the inside.
"No... no! No!"
His horrifying screams chilled the hearts of the people around them, and minutes later, when he died, smoke rose from his reddened body.
When the dirk was removed from his chest, it left a hole, and the smell of charred flesh greeted the senses of the Dothraki who were standing close by.
"Is there anyone who wishes to fight today?" He asked the khals, but they shook their heads.
Receiving the answer, he nodded to them and then sheathed his blades, tied them to the saddle, and then climbed up his hippogriff to ride into the city.
This time, he did not stay out but chose to go to a manse, which belonged to the people from Asshai and a certain pyromancer, who was in the city right now.
In the safety of the room, he took out the arrowhead, and soon a slave girl, covered in robes, entered through the door, carrying a pot of boiling water.
She tensed up when she heard the door behind her close on its own but managed to safely place the pot on the stone table where Azaerys was sitting.
The girl then took off her robe and hood, revealing her tall, slender figure and beautiful face. Her most striking feature was her golden eyes. Her hair was golden too. And even though she was very tall for a girl, just three inches shy of six feet, she was barely fifteen years old and still had room to grow even taller.
"You are a princess." He lightly said, and her body froze at his words.
"I was, Your Grace. Now I am a slave. My aunt sold me and my sister to Master Pymor. We were a threat to her rule," she informed him and flinched when he grabbed the linen cloth from the tray and dipped it into the boiling water along with his hand.
She worriedly looked at his hand but was surprised when it did not even have any redness on it after he pulled it out.
"What's your name?"
"Khiara, Your Grace," she answered and watched him carefully wipe his wound.
"And why has your master sent you to me?" He knowingly asked.
"Master Pymor... intends to gift me and my older sister to you." She lightly said and clutched the hem of her skirt.
Azaerys stayed silent as he cleaned the wound, and the girl's eyes were soon hooked on his broad and muscular physique, which had a wiriness about it.
He was beautiful with his long silver and black hair draping over his shoulder, and a few streaks covering the sides of his face.
She could not help but feel a little agitated at his black hair.
In her opinion, they marred his ethereal beauty.
Suddenly, under her eyes, he took off his glamour, revealing his beautiful silver-white hair, and leaving her stunned.
Khiara blushed hard when she caught the slight smile on his face, which told her that he was aware of her not-so-innocent thoughts.
"Take off your clothes."
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the order, and only hesitated for a moment before she started to pull the strings of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as the fabric rustled and soon pooled around her feet...