Chapter 51: The Gift of Choice
The Great Work was complete, but the work of building a new world had just begun. In the wake of Volantis's bloodless surrender, the Grand Army of the Great Order found itself not as a conquering force, but as an administrative and spiritual occupying power in a continent undergoing a seismic shift. The old order of masters and slaves was shattered, leaving a vacuum of power and purpose.
It was into this vacuum that Krosis-Krif, the silent architect of it all, introduced his most radical and unexpected design. The decree came, as it always did, as a thought dropped into the minds of his chosen leaders—Viserys, Jacaerys, and Ellyn, as they convened with the new provisional councils of the liberated cities.
"THE CHAINS OF SLAVERY ARE BROKEN," the voice stated, its tone one of cool, academic logic. "BUT THE GHOST OF MASTERS LINGERS IN THE FORMS OF HEREDITARY MAGISTERS AND APPOINTED PRINCES. THIS IS NOT TRUE ORDER. IT IS MERELY A REPLACEMENT OF ONE HIERARCHY WITH ANOTHER. A SELF-REGULATING SYSTEM IS THE MOST STABLE. A FOREST PLANTED BY ITS OWN SEEDS IS STRONGER THAN ONE PLANTED BY A GARDENER. THE PEOPLE WILL GOVERN THEMSELVES."
The command was so counter-intuitive, so contrary to the absolute nature of the god's rule, that it stunned the council into silence.
Grazdan, the former scribe who now led the council of Volantis, was the first to find his voice. "He… he means a democracy?" he stammered, the word almost foreign on his tongue. "The people should elect their own leaders? From among their own number? This is a freedom we never dared to dream of."
And so, in the great hall of the Triarchs' palace, a constitutional convention was held. It was perhaps the strangest political gathering in the history of the world. At the table sat King Viserys, the reluctant monarch of a theocracy; Prince Jacaerys, the hardened commander of a holy war; Ellyn the Weaver, the high priestess of a living god; Tycho Melis, the pragmatic envoy of the world's most powerful bank; and the leaders of the freed peoples of Pentos, Myr, Lys, and Volantis. They were tasked with designing freedom.
"The god's will is clear," Ellyn began, her voice carrying a simple, profound authority. "The people will choose their own councils, their own leaders. The voice of the many will guide the path of the city."
"A noble sentiment," Jacaerys interjected, his voice cutting through the hopeful murmur. "But freedom requires structure. A river without banks is just a flood. There will be conditions. A constitution, which will be the bedrock of all the Free Districts of the Great Order." He looked at the Essosi leaders.
"The First Law is immutable: Slavery and the ownership of another being is abolished, forever. Its practice is the ultimate disorder, and it will be met with divine correction." He paused, letting the weight of the threat sink in. "The Second Law: Adherence to the principles of the Great Order and the freedom to worship the god who granted this new age are sacrosanct. Any elected leader, any new law that violates these principles, will be… invalidated."
"A gentle way of putting it," Tycho Melis noted with a dry smile. She steepled her fingers. "And the Iron Bank would propose a Third Law, to be enshrined with the others: that all financial agreements, all debts and contracts entered into with the Bank of Braavos, are inviolable. Economic stability, after all, is the foundation of social order."
King Viserys listened to all of this, a deep weariness in his soul. "So it is freedom with unbreakable walls around it," he said quietly, more to himself than to the council. "A garden where the people can plant any flower they wish, as long as it has been pre-approved by the Gardener."
Grazdan, the Volantene leader, looked at his king with earnest, grateful eyes. "Your Grace, for a man who has spent his life in a barren cell, even a small garden is a paradise beyond imagining. We will gladly tend it."
The Concordance of Free Peoples was drafted and signed. It was the most progressive and the most tyrannical document ever written.
The first free election in the history of Volantis was a joyous, chaotic, beautiful affair. For days, the citizens—former slaves, humbled masters, converted sellswords, and opportunistic merchants—debated and campaigned in the streets. Voices that had been silent for a lifetime were raised in argument and song. When the day of voting came, they lined up for miles, their faces shining with a hope that was a miracle in itself.
They elected Grazdan the scribe as their first Triarch, along with a fiery Summer Islander woman who had led a revolt in the slave pens, and a pragmatic Myrish engineer who had a plan for rebuilding the city's aqueducts. It was a government of the people, for the people, chosen by the people, under the watchful, silent eye of a god who had given them this gift. It was a perfect, self-policing system.
With the new governments established and the financial backing of the Iron Bank secured, the time finally came for the Grand Army to return home. Their work was done. King Viserys stood on the newly rebuilt docks of Volantis to bid farewell to the city's new leaders.
"Your Grace," Triarch Grazdan said, bowing low, his hands clasped over his heart. "You, and the Great Order, have given my people a gift beyond all measure. Not just freedom from chains, but the dignity of choice. We will build a world worthy of that gift. We will not forget what you have done for us."
"Govern wisely and justly, Triarch Grazdan," Viserys replied, clasping the man's shoulder. "The god who gave you this gift is always watching." The words were meant as a blessing, but they came out sounding like a warning.
"We know, Your Grace," Grazdan said with a beatific smile. "And we are grateful for it. His peace is a true peace. His order is a true freedom."
The new leaders were true believers. The system was flawless.
The journey home was long, the mood on the ships a strange mix of exhaustion and quiet pride. They had left Westeros as an army of subjugated peoples and were returning as the victorious crusaders of a global religion.
On the deck of a transport ship, the newly-knighted Ser Tytos Hill watched the younger squires practice their swordplay. One of them, a young Targaryen cousin named Aemon, came to stand beside him, looking out at the endless blue of the sea.
"It feels strange to be going home, Ser Tytos," the boy said, his voice filled with the earnestness of youth. "We changed the world, didn't we?"
Tytos smiled, a real smile, something he did more often these days. "The god changed the world, lad," he said gently. "We were just the tide he used to wash it clean."
"But is it… better?" the squire asked, his brow furrowed. "Truly?"
Ser Tytos thought of the weeping mother whose child Ellyn had healed. He thought of the liberated slaves casting their first votes. He thought of the fall of the Black Wall. "The people are free from chains," he said. "They are fed. They choose their own leaders. They live without the fear of pointless wars." He looked at the boy. "How can it not be better?"
The boy nodded, his doubts satisfied by the simple, powerful truth of it. The new world was better. It had to be.
On the flagship, as the fleet finally sighted the familiar coastline of Westeros, King Viserys stood on the forecastle with his brother, watching the distant shadow on the hill grow larger. The crusade was over. Their Great Work was done.
"Democracy, Jace," Viserys said, breaking the long silence between them. His voice was filled with a weary wonder. "After all the miracles, all the terror… he gave them democracy. I never would have predicted it. In the end, it was a truly noble act. A gift of real freedom."
Jacaerys did not take his eyes off the approaching shore. His face, weathered by the Essosi sun and the weight of command, was grim. "Was it?" he asked quietly. "Or was it his most clever trick yet? The final, perfect lock on the cage?"
"What do you mean?" Viserys asked, turning to him. "They can choose their own leaders. They can make their own laws."
"Can they?" Jace countered, his voice low and intense. "Can they choose to bring back slavery? Can they choose to outlaw the worship of our god? Can they choose to default on their new, massive loans to the Iron Bank?" He finally looked at his brother, and Viserys saw an ancient, profound sorrow in his eyes.
"No. He has not given them freedom of choice, Viserys. He has given them the illusion of choice, and that is a far more powerful tool of control. He has created a perfect, self-policing system. The people will enforce his laws upon themselves, because they believe they are their laws. The people will crush any dissent against the Great Order, because they believe it is their Great Order. He has given them just enough freedom to forge their own chains, and they have done so with gratitude and joy."
He looked back at the shadow on the hill, now clearly visible. The silent shepherd watching his flock return.
"It is the most perfect, inescapable prison ever conceived," Jace whispered, the sea wind whipping the words away. "Because the inmates believe, with all their hearts, that they are the wardens."
The fleet sailed into Blackwater Bay. The army was returning home, not as heroes who had won a war, but as architects who had successfully designed and built a new, more efficient, more elegant cage for the entire world. The great, violent work was over. The long, quiet, orderly life within the walls of their new freedom was about to begin. And it would last forever.