Khal Drogo arrived exactly two days after the battle, and his entrance was everything Marcos had hoped for from a Dothraki leader.
One hundred horsemen galloping at full speed towards Astoria, shouting in their language, brandishing arakhs in the air, with the hooves of their horses raising clouds of dust that darkened the horizon.
It was a spectacle designed to intimidate.
And it worked.
"Holy shit," Garrett muttered from the walls. "Even knowing they're allies, they're scary."
"That's the point." Marcos observed through his telescope. "The Dothraki don't do anything halfway. Not even getting to a place."
Daenerys was by his side, looking nervous.
—Do you think he's still angry about... you know , rejecting him?
"There's only one way to know." Marcos lowered the telescope. "But if he wanted revenge, he would have brought more than a hundred horsemen."
—That's not as comforting as you think .
The riders stopped a hundred meters from the main gates. It was a respectful distance, indicating that they did not come with immediate hostile intent.
Drogo dismounted with his characteristic grace and walked forward.
Marcos did the same, leaving through the doors with Garrett, Mero, and Daenerys as his escort.
When they were ten meters apart, Drogo stopped.
She studied Marcos with those dark, impenetrable eyes.
Then he smiled.
" Maegi ! I heard you scared off an entire army without a fight!" He laughed. "Theatrics! Just as I predicted! City dwellers are weak when they're afraid!"
" Khal Drogo." Marcos bowed slightly. "It's an honor to have you here. Though you're late for the fun."
" I know! I'm disappointed!" Drogo paced around Marcos, assessing him. "But also impressed. Winning without bloodshed is... interesting. Not the Dothraki way. But it's clever."
—Blood spilled unnecessarily is wasted blood.
" Strange philosophy!" Drogo laughed again. "But effective." Then he looked at Daenerys . "Dragon child. You've grown since I last saw you."
Daenerys straightened up, finding her voice.
— Khal Drogo. —His Dothraki was imperfect but functional—. Thank you for coming. Although there was no battle.
"I came because I promised. Dothraki always keep their promises." Drogo studied her. "I also heard you yell at your brother. You told him some hard truths. That's fire. I like it."
—Thank you, Khal .
"You're not my khaleesi yet ," Drogo said without malice. "But perhaps one day, when you choose, we can talk again." He shrugged. "For now, I respect your choice."
Daenerys felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She had been terrified that Drogo would come to claim her by force.
"Now." Drogo turned to Marcos. "Why am I really here? I didn't come here just to look at pretty walls."
"Alliance," Marcos said directly. "Formal. Between the Empire of Astoria and your khalasar ."
Drogo's bloodriders murmured. Formal alliances were not Dothraki custom.
" What kind of alliance?" Drogo asked cautiously.
"Simple. We provide you with access to resources. Food, weapons, medicine. We also give you information about army movements, trade routes, and opportunities for clever looting." Marcos paused. "In return, you help us." When there is a serious military threat. Not always. Not with your entire khalasar . But when we ask, you send horsemen. One hundred, two hundred, whatever is appropriate.
—And what about when I ask for help?
"We'll help you. Strategy, planning, logistical support. Maybe even magic if necessary." Marcos smiled. "We complement each other. You 're the mobile force. We're the static fortress. Together, no one can touch us."
Drogo considered this for a long time.
—What do I gain that I can't take by force?
"Respect." Marcos looked directly at him. " You can get food by looting villages. But that creates enemies. With alliances, you obtain resources without creating resistance. You can focus on battles that matter, not on getting supplies."
" Hmm ." Drogo paced back, thinking. "The Dothraki don't form alliances with cities. We take. We don't negotiate."
"But I'm not a city. I'm a nascent empire." Marcos gestured around. "And you're not ... " Common Khal . You're the one who never lost a battle. The one who thinks strategically. That's why you fought me instead of just attacking with numbers.
Drogo smiled.
-Flatterer.
"Honest." Marcos shrugged. "But if you prefer to decline, I respect that too. We're still... friends? Is that the right word?"
"Acquaintances who respect each other" is more accurate. Drogo laughed. "But yes. I accept your alliance. On condition."
- Which?
"We'll fight again. In a year. No magic, no tricks. Just strength and skill." Drogo smiled. "I want to see if you've improved."
Marcos laughed.
—I accept. But you also need to improve. Next time I won't let you win so easily.
" You didn't let me win! You really won! That's why I want a rematch!" Drogo extended his arm. "Deal?"
Marcos took the arm in a warrior's grip.
-Deal.
The Dothraki riders shouted in approval, banging their weapons.
It was an unusual alliance. Strange. Non-traditional.
But it was real.
That night there was a feast.
Marcos had ordered massive preparation: roast meat (lots of meat, because the Dothraki ate as if it were their last meal), fresh bread, vegetables, fruit, and wine in industrial quantities.
The Dothraki ate with ferocious appetites, told stories of battles, and occasionally tried to compete in wrestling matches with the Second Sons (which did not end well for anyone).
Drogo was seated at the head table with Marcos, Daenerys , Garrett, Mero, and the bloodriders.
"So, maegi ," Drogo said, drinking from a huge horn filled with wine, "what is your real plan? You don't build empires just to have pretty walls."
"Unification." Marcos drank from his own cup. "Eventually, I want to unite Essos under a functional government. Not a tyrannical one. Not based on slavery. Based on meritocracy, fair law, and opportunity for all."
"That sounds boring." Drogo laughed. "Where's the glory? The conquest?"
"The conquest is coming. But not only through conquest." Marcos leaned forward. "There are cities in Essos that are cancers. They maintain slavery. They oppress. They exploit. I plan to liberate them. By force if necessary."
"Now it sounds more interesting." Drogo smiled. "Which cities?"
" Astapor . Yunkai . Meereen ," Marcos listed. "The slave cities of Slaver's Bay. They are rich, powerful, and utterly despicable."
"The Unsullied come from Astapor ," Qotho , one of the bloodriders, said. "They are fearless warriors."
"They are castrated slaves trained from childhood to obey without question." Marcos frowned. "It's an abomination."
"But effective in battle," Drogo pointed out. "If you release Astapor , what are you doing with the Unsullied?
"I'm giving you a choice. Stay and fight like free men, with pay and respect. Or leave and find your own way." Marcos took a drink. "But I'm not going to keep you as slaves. Never."
Daenerys listened with fascination.
This was the first time Marcos had spoken so openly about long-term plans.
" When do you attack these cities?" Drogo asked.
"Not yet. I need more time. More people. More resources." Marcos looked at the mental map in his head. "Maybe a year. Two. But it will happen."
" Call me when I'm over ." Drogo smiled. "Dothraki hate slavers. We sack slave cities with glee."
"Deal." Marcos extended his hand.
Drogo shook her hand.
It was a promise. Not just a political alliance. It was a brotherhood of purpose.
The next day:
The Dothraki were preparing to leave.
Drogo was saying his goodbyes when he approached Daenerys privately.
—Dragon child. —Her voice was soft by Dothraki standards—. I heard what you said to your brother. It was brave.
—Thank you, Khal .
"Your brother is weak. Mad. He doesn't deserve your loyalty." Drogo studied her. "But you... you have strength. Fire in your soul. You just need time for it to grow."
—How do you know that?
"Because I saw you reject me." Drogo smiled. "No one rejects me. Ever. But you did. Not with fear. With dignity. That's real strength."
Daenerys felt tears threatening.
—Why are you telling me this?
"Because maybe in the future, when you're a whole woman, not a frightened girl, we'll meet again. And maybe then, you'll choose differently." Drogo paused. "Or not. And that's okay too. But I want you to know: I respect your choice. Always."
—Thank you, Khal Drogo. That... means a lot.
Drogo nodded and mounted his horse.
With a war cry, the hundred Dothraki horsemen galloped eastward, disappearing in dust and glory.
Marcos approached Daenerys .
—What did he say to you?
"That he respects me. That maybe in the future..." Daenerys blushed. "It's complicated."
"Looks like you have some powerful admirers." Marcos smiled. "A Dothraki Khal and a mad maegi . Nice team."
"I only care about one of them," Daenerys said softly, looking directly at him.
Marcos felt his heart race.
—Dany...
" You don't have to say anything." She smiled at him. "I just needed you to know. When you said we should wait, that you should let me grow... I agree. But I want you to know that my feelings are real."
"Mine too," Marcos admitted. "And they're going to stay real. In a year, two, three. Whenever it's appropriate."
"Then we'll wait." Daenerys took his hand. "Together."
-Together.
One week later:
Life in Astoria had returned to relative normality.
The prisoners from Pentos had been integrated. Most were mercenaries who simply wanted stable work. Marcos accepted them on a probationary basis.
The total population of the empire was now:
Astoria: 200 citizensNohoros : 120Valdesh : 330Former Pentos prisoners : 140
Total: 790 people.
It was no longer a small settlement. It was a real community.
And with growth came new problems.
"We need formal governance," Mira said, presenting a report at a council meeting. "We can no longer operate with 'Marcos decides everything.' It's unsustainable."
"I agree." Marcos nodded. "I propose a structure: an Imperial Council with representatives from each settlement. They vote on major decisions. I have final veto power, but I only use it in emergencies."
" And the law?" Garrett asked . "We need a formal legal code."
"I'm already working on it." Marcos pulled out some papers. "A code based on Roman principles with modern adjustments. Equal law for all. No exceptions based on class or blood. Trials based on evidence. Proportional punishments."
" And capital crime?" Elia asked . "The death penalty?"
"Only in extreme cases. Premeditated murder, proven treason, systematic abuse." Marcos had thought this through carefully. "And only after a trial with multiple witnesses. I'm not going to execute people for stealing bread."
"It's gentler than most kingdoms," Lysor observed.
"It's fairer," Marcos corrected. "Cruelty doesn't prevent crime. Justice does."
" And slavery?" Daenerys asked. "Is it in the code?"
"Completely abolished. Everyone in imperial territory is free. No exceptions." Marcos looked at her. "Zero tolerance ."
They all nodded in approval.
"Another thing." Marcos unfolded a map. "We need to expand. There are three more towns within a hundred kilometers. I propose diplomatic missions again. But this time, with an established reputation. We're an empire that defeated Pentos . That lends credibility."
—And what if they refuse? —Mero asked.
"We respect them. We don't force anything." Marcos shrugged. "But I bet most will agree. Safety is a rare commodity in Essos ."
The missions were approved.
Two weeks later:
Three more peoples joined the empire:
Sarys (population 150): Fishing village that needed protection against pirates.Kreyos (population 200): Mining town with iron and copper deposits.Dhoros (population 180): Agricultural village with fertile land.
Total imperial population: 1,320 people.
Marcos had crossed a magic threshold: a thousand citizens.
It was no longer a large town. It was a small city-state.
And with growth came international recognition.
Ambassadors arrived.
The first one was from Norvos , one of the Free Cities.
She was an older woman, a professional diplomat named Taena .
—Magister Vidal. —He bowed formally.
"Just Marcos, please. And I'm not Magister. I'm the leader of the empire." Marcos gestured for him to sit down. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
" Norvos has heard about your... victory against Pentos . Impressive." Taena smiled diplomatically. "My city is interested in formal trade relations."
— What kind of relationships?
"You have resources: abundant food, building materials, advanced medicine. We have gold, information, connections with other cities." Taena produced documents. "I propose a mutual trade treaty. Non-exclusive. A win-win situation."
Marcos read the documents.
It was a fair deal. Honest. No obvious catches.
—I accept. With the addition: a guarantee of non-aggression. Neither of us attacks the other for a period of five years.
—Reasonable. — Taena wrote amendment—. Anything else?
—Yes. Information on political movements in Essos . Not active espionage. Just... general trends. Who's forming alliances? Who's in conflict? That sort of thing.
"That's valuable," Taena considered. "What do you offer in return?"
"Limited access to my medical potions. Not a massive amount. But enough for Norvos to have better medicine than any other city." Marcos smiled. "A competitive advantage."
Taena 's eyes lit up.
-Deal.
They signed documents.
It was the first international treaty of the Empire of Astoria.
And it wouldn't be the last.
That night, Marcos was on his balcony, looking at Astoria.
Lights shone in windows. I heard distant laughter, conversations, life.
Daenerys approached silently.
Ca n't you sleep?
"Too much to think about," Marcos remarked. "A month ago, this was an empty valley. Now it's a town with thirteen hundred people. What will it be like in six months?"
—What do you want it to be?
"Something that lasts. Something fair. Something people will remember not for conquest, but for what we built." Marcos looked at her. "Does that sound naive?"
"It sounds beautiful." Daenerys stood beside him. "And I think you're going to do it."
"Not me. We." Marcos smiled at her. "You 're as much a part of this as I am."
— Do you really believe that ?
"Absolutely," Marcos pointed out. "People respect you. They listen to you. You have a knack for diplomacy that I don't have. You're better with people than I'll ever be."
—You're better at strategy. At building. At seeing the big picture.
—Then we complement each other. —Marcos took her hand—. Good team.
"The best." Daenerys squeezed his hand. "Can I ask you something?"
-Always.
" Do you ever regret it? Rescuing me. Starting all this. ...myself." Her voice cracked slightly. "I caused so much trouble."
"Never. Not for a second." Marcos looked directly at her. "You didn't cause any complications. The world was complicated before we met. We simply decided to do something about it. Together."
" And in the future? When I'm older. When... when it's appropriate." Daenerys looked at him. "Will you still feel the same way?"
"Dany, my feelings for you don't depend on your age. They depend on who you are ." Marcos stroked her cheek. "And who you are is incredible. Brave. Intelligent. Compassionate. That won't change with time. It will only grow."
"Promise me something." Tears streamed down her face. "Promise me we'll have a future. That this isn't just a dream that's going to end."
"I promise you I'm going to fight for that future. With everything I have." Marcos hugged her. "You and me. Building something that matters."
They stayed like that, embraced under the stars.
Two people from different worlds, united by circumstance and choice.
Building an empire.
Building the future.
Building love.
And in the vast world of Westeros and Essos , forces were beginning to stir.
Kings noticed the new empire.
Magistrates were plotting revenge.
Prophets had visions.
And they all came to the same conclusion:
The Empire of Astoria had come to stay.
And the world would never be the same.
[END OF CHAPTER 18]