Dany rose from the throne and looked down at the Green Priestess, her voice clear and commanding:
"I am not like Aegon, nor the Valyrian dragonlords—I am not a conqueror. I am also unlike Nymeria, not a refugee fleeing hardship."
"I am a reformer, a revolutionary, a nightmare to the sinful system of slavery. I am 'Mhysa' to all the oppressed slaves of the world."
"My enemy is not the Ghiscari people of Slaver's Bay, but the entire decaying world of slavery. I will build a new world—one without slaves, where all are free."
"I will not compromise, and I do not fear battle. When I chose to stand against the world, there was nothing left in it that could frighten me."
"I came. I saw. I burned down the old order. I don't need to conquer you, and I will never assimilate into your ways."
"I am a flood, surging past you. Either you wash away your filth and join me, or you sink to the riverbed."
"Do you understand?
"This is your choice—not mine.
"I give you that choice!"
The Green Priestess trembled, her body quivering, eyes wide with terror.
"This… this is the true Targaryen. A true queen."
Tyrion felt an overwhelming sense of awe—greater than any he had known. For a moment, he was even tempted to kneel before the queen who stood so proudly above all.
"Dany… has surpassed Aegon, surpassed all the Targaryen forebears."
Amid the crowd, old Aemon stood tall, pride and joy beaming from his face.
"I'm nothing compared to her," young Aegon said, face pale with dismay.
"You're still young," Clinton replied, gently withdrawing his admiring gaze from the Dragon Queen and turning to comfort him.
"I'm a year older than her."
"Uh…"
"To serve a queen like her—is an honor," Darkfy murmured.
"Mhysa! Mhysa! Mhysa!"
"Flood! Flood! Flood!"
For a brief moment, the newly freed people inside the hall were stunned. Then, as if gripped by madness, they erupted into frenzied, hoarse, hysterical shouting.
Many had tears in their eyes, their faces streaked with emotion.
Dany smiled with deep satisfaction.
"Bang!" She struck the gavel. "Silence!"
"Mi~~~ghtyyy~~~!" The Unsullied began pounding their staves.
"Lady Green Priestess, aside from my personal convictions, I can explain each of the policies you brought up. After all, this is a court of law. As Chief Justice, I must abide by the Codex and cannot sentence you based solely on my personal will."
She took a sip of goji tea to soothe her throat (and cannon barrel).
Then, she began her verbal barrage:
"First, I advocate religious freedom. The churches of Astapor and Kyzan voluntarily underwent religious reform. That's why the temples became the Seven-Faced Faith with Slaver's Bay characteristics."
"For example, the Red Priestess—under the doctrine of the Seven—is blasphemy incarnate."
"Meereen's temple insisted on worshiping the Harpy. Yet, did I ever force you to change your beliefs?
"More importantly, everyone knows the Harpy holds slave chains in her claws—she symbolizes the oppression of slave masters.
"Are you really suggesting the new freemen should worship a symbol of slavery?
"You can ask the city's residents—did I ever force them?
"Force them to worship the Seven? Or forbid them from worshiping the Harpy?"
"We chose freely! We believe in the Maiden of Freedom—we believe in light and liberty!" one newly freed citizen shouted passionately.
"We're not fools! As new freemen, why would we worship the Harpy? Before the temple became part of the Seven-Faced Faith, I never even stepped foot in it."
Seeing the impassioned crowd, the Green Priestess sighed, the light in her eyes dimming.
"Second, the fighting pits. Gladiators are usually slaves. I've already abolished slavery, so how could I allow gladiators to exist?
"Besides, I didn't shut down the fighting pits. Haven't you seen? Every evening, hundreds—thousands—of citizens gather in the pit to do group dances."
Yes, indeed. The large, open fighting pit had become the go-to spot for elderly uncles and aunts, young ladies, and housewives to dance in formation.
As for how the people of this world learned the plaza dance of the Great Celestial Empire…
A certain queen firmly denied ever having learned such a thing.
"Third, the Tokar robe. Who wears those except idle slave masters? Now that the corrupt vampire slave lords have been overthrown, the working people are masters of their own fate!
"Those robes are so cumbersome you can barely walk in them. Of course I would promote simpler clothing."
"Fourth, dietary customs. Dogs are humanity's friends—and they may even deter the Faceless Men. I never said you can't eat them. Just don't force me to eat them, right?
"Besides, the foods I've promoted are popular—more nutritious and less wasteful."
"Fifth, High Valyrian is the global lingua franca. I truly see no reason to reject it."
"Sixth, shaving heads…"
Here, the Dragon Queen's expression grew odd. She frowned in confusion and asked, "When did I ever say, 'Keep your hair, lose your head'?"
The Green Priestess glanced toward Cleon.
"I—I said that," replied the Earl of Broken Chains, raising his right hand sheepishly. "Standing straight with long hair and wearing the Tokar robe were both marks of degenerate slave masters.
"There are thousands of them in labor camps, still clinging to those bizarre hairstyles. It's completely impractical for manual work.
"I tried reasoning with them, but they refused to shave. In the end, I had no choice but to scare them with the phrase 'keep your hair, lose your head.'"
"Convicts in labor camps have no political rights. They can be forcibly shaved. Once they finish their sentence and regain freedom, they're free to grow their hair again," Dany nodded.
"Continuing on. Seventh—'discriminating against the Ghiscari'? Really?
"Isn't Cleon a Ghiscari? He was my very first city governor. My very first earl! Cleon, do you think I've deliberately suppressed the Ghiscari people?"
"Absolutely not. Never. You are like a second parent to me—you changed my life," said the Butcher Earl with solemn conviction.
"He has low birth," said the Green Grace.
"No," Daenerys shook her head. "Here in Slaver's Bay, he is now the highest-born of the Ghiscari. He is destined to become the noblest Ghiscari in the world."
"Your Majesty..." Cleon, sensing a certain unspoken promise, was moved and grateful to the point of tears.
"Eighth, the pyramids. Of course I'm going to relocate them. The families who own pyramids are all great slave-masters, burdened with countless crimes.
I hold only the worst offenders accountable. To spare their children and women is already an act of mercy."
Daenerys pointed to herself. "Take me for example. The usurper stole my father's kingdom, murdered my brother's wife and two children, and still wanted me completely wiped out."
"I didn't die," Young Aegon muttered discontentedly.
At that moment, everyone was fully focused on the Dragon Queen's speech, and even Clinton didn't pay attention to his grumbling.
"Ninth, I show no mercy to the great Ghiscari nobles, and that is right. They are all slave-masters—not a single one is innocent.
I'll say it plainly here today:
Unless they surrender to me in advance and make significant contributions to the cause of slave liberation,
I will not spare the slave-masters of Slaver's Bay, nor any great slave-master in the world."
"And finally, you think I'm erasing Ghiscari culture. Let me ask you—do today's Ghiscari have the same traditions and culture as the ancient Ghiscari of Old Ghis?"
The Green Grace fell silent. Every Ghiscari in the hall was silent.
The Dragon Queen gave a faint smile. "Since the last Long Night, three great civilizations have emerged—Old Ghis, Lorath, and Valyria.
But all of them vanished in the river of history.
Times change. No culture remains dominant forever unless it is truly excellent and accepted by all.
Clearly, Ghiscari culture and tradition, built upon slavery, are not only weak but also corrupt and decaying.
As a liberator of slaves—and with most of my people being newly freed men—how could we possibly support your traditions?"
The Green Grace Grazdan had confessed as soon as she appeared.
The newly freed, the free Ghiscari, the Ghiscari jurors, the Ghiscari who had sought help from the Green Grace of Astapor—even the Dragon Queen herself—all were surprised and puzzled.
After the trial that day, the Green Grace of Astapor, Grazdan, led two Ghiscari representatives from Meereen down to the sublevel of the Great Pyramid, a solemn expression on her face, to meet the elder Green Grace imprisoned in the dungeon.
The 40-square-meter room had a bookshelf, a bedroom, a bathroom, and even a small reception area.
It was a high-security cell for high-ranking prisoners.
The more-than-eighty-year-old elder Green Grace was reading by the dim yellow candlelight, seriously flipping through a thick book—The New Seven-Pointed Star, compiled by the Dragon Queen.
A layer of frost seemed to form on Grazdan's face, and her gaze was as cold as ice.
Especially when she saw the calm and serene expression on the elder's face, it was as though her body ignited with an opposite force—an anger as molten and scorching as magma.
"Why?" asked the Green Grace.
"Why what?" said the elder.
"Why did you form that worthless Sons of the Harpy?" asked the Green Grace.
"Why did you confess outright and sell out all your comrades?" the Meereenese elder added quickly.
The elder Green Grace looked into the younger woman's eyes and said, "The Sons of the Harpy were the final resistance of the Ghiscari, the last spine of the Old Ghis Empire.
The reasons I opposed the Dragon Queen's rule were clearly explained in the public trial hall.
I didn't want Ghiscari civilization to perish.
I did what a Green Grace, a religious leader, was supposed to do."
The younger Green Grace didn't shy away from the elder's glowing green gaze, but the frost on her face and the fire in her body faded. She spoke with sorrow and helplessness: "You heard her. The Queen gave her answer in front of everyone."
"Yes, and her reasoning was sound," the elder Green Grace nodded slightly, then shook her head with quiet resolve. There was profound wisdom in her emerald eyes.
"But so what? However decayed and however in decline, that civilization is still the mother civilization of the Ghiscari, a legacy our ancestors upheld for thousands of years.
Our civilization may die out because it truly doesn't fit this new age—the new age brought forth by the Dragon Queen.
But we Ghiscari cannot go down without resistance, because we are Ghiscari, descended from the blood of Old Ghis!"
"Once, when a Great Master died, slaves were buried with him. Now, a nation, a people, a civilization is dying—and it cannot go without sacrifices. I and my descendants are willing to be buried alongside Ghiscari civilization," the elder Green Grace said, her voice calm.
The three Ghiscari fell silent and sighed.
After a long pause, one of the elders asked, "Since you possess such fearless spirit of sacrifice, why confess before the trial even began—and why betray your entire organization?"
(End of chapter)
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