Seven thousand years ago, the Ancient Ghiscari Empire was one of the most advanced civilizations of its time. Prosperous and powerful, it ruled almost the entire continent of Essos.
But its glory lasted only a thousand years. The suddenly risen Valyria, a civilization of dragons and magic, destroyed the empire in just a few decades.
Unlike other Valyrian Free Cities, the Ghiscari Empire was too close to the Valyrian Peninsula, leaving almost no pure-blooded descendants. The Ghiscari in Slaver's Bay today are all mixed-bloods who cannot even speak Ghiscari.
At this moment, the knight with the punk-style haircut spoke to a fat Ghiscari man in accented Valyrian: "Lord Benefactor, I will bring the people here for you. Ah, those savage Andals cannot even speak Valyrian. You should hire a better translator."
Across the square stood a massive 120-meter-tall pyramid, similar in design to the Mayan pyramids.
Egyptian pyramids have many steps, with each side allowing people to climb. However, the pyramids in Apostta mostly have 33 steps, making each one very high.
The Seven's faithful revered the number seven, while the Ghiscari believed thirty-three to be the most mystical of all.
The pyramid rose one hundred and twenty meters, each of its steps three and a half meters high. To reach the summit, a normal staircase had been carved into one of the great steps.
At this moment, a comfortable soft couch rested upon the lowest great step. A tall, fat man with bronze-brown skin lay upon it, clad in a *toga* with gold tassels—a long, loose, and trailing cloth wrapped around his body, fastened at one shoulder, requiring his left hand to hold it in place as he walked.
He was Lord Krasny, a great slave trader.
The slave lord held a short leather whip in his right hand, gesturing and pointing at Daenerys and her companions. His left hand occasionally reached for fruit and wine from a tray before him, bringing them to his lips. Behind him, a pair of twin girls fanned him.
"I have the finest translator," Kraznys said, pointing to the young girl beside him. "She speaks the dialects of the farthest corners of the world."
He also spoke Valyrian, but his accent was thick with the sounds of Ghis.
Daenerys and her companions had been waiting by the fountain for their master's summons. Hearing the conversation, she couldn't help but ask, "Why does that man assume I don't speak Valyrian?"
A glint flashed in Jorah's eyes as he replied softly, "I did it on purpose, hoping they would think you only speak the Common Tongue and Dothraki."
Daenerys nodded, understanding his clever ruse.
"Hey, you Westerosi bitch, look down here!" the slave trader Kraznys suddenly sat up, shouting at Daenerys by the fountain. "I sell flesh, not iron. You can't sell the bronze statue of the siren!"
The little translator shouted in broken Common Tongue, "Mother of Dragons, the Lord Benefactor invites you to admire the Unsullied warriors."
The girl was not yet ten years old, with a flat, round face, dark skin, and the golden eyes unique to the people of Naath.
The Naathi lived on Naath Island, near the Snake Islands. They were known as the "Peaceful People," the finest slaves in the world.
*Well, that's because they're too cowardly,* Daenerys thought. *Even more docile than Brazza's 'Sheepmen'.*
She had seen the Unsullied the moment she arrived.
To the left of the square, rows of soldiers stood in formation, wearing spiked helmets. They were arranged in ten ranks of one hundred men each, their postures as rigid as statues, their faces carved from granite. Under the scorching sun, they showed no sign of life, their eyes fixed forward with an emotionless stare, utterly ignoring Daenerys and her retinue.
"They are perfectly aligned, but that does not prove their combat prowess," Daenerys said with a smile, walking up to the steps and addressing the young girl. "I wish to know more about their training. If they are only trained to stand in formation, they are of no use to me."
The flat-faced young woman glanced at her with curiosity before speaking to her master. "The Westerosi woman is satisfied with them, but she offers no praise. It seems she wishes to drive the price down. She also wants to know how the Unsullied are trained."
"Are Westerosi pigs so ignorant?" the Lord Benefactor complained, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Did that savage husband of hers not tell her the story of the Three Thousand Unsullied who defended Kohor?"
Four hundred years ago, ancient Valyria was destroyed in the Doom, and the political landscape of Essos underwent a violent upheaval. While the great Free Cities declared their independence, the Dothraki—the nomadic horsemen of the East—began to expand their power unchecked.
A Khal named Temo led his khalasar westward, crossing the Great Plains of the Norn River for the first time. Along the way, twenty thousand Roaring Warriors burned and looted, sweeping through every city in their path.
Finally, they crossed the Kohor Forest and halted beneath the walls of Kohor City.
With his light cavalry, Khal Temo crushed the heavy cavalry of the Kohorim, terrifying the two great mercenary companies—the Bright Banners and the Second Sons—into fleeing under the cover of night.
Just hours before the city was set to fall, the three thousand Unsullied that Kohor had ordered from Apostta finally arrived.
Apostta was over ten thousand *li* from Kohor, yet the Unsullied had not rested for a single moment. The battle immediately erupted: three thousand light infantry against twenty thousand scimitar-wielding cavalry.
In the end, twelve thousand Dothraki were slaughtered. Only two thousand four hundred of the leather-armored Unsullied fell. Khal Temo, his sons, and his Blood Riders were all killed on the field.
The remaining 8,000 Horsemen approached the Unsullied, who still stood tall and triumphant on the battlefield. One by one, they cut off their braids and threw them at the feet of the Unsullied warriors in submission.
(PS: This actually happened in *A Song of Ice and Fire*, but I personally feel the author must have been drunk when he wrote it. How could heavy cavalry get absolutely wrecked by light infantry in a direct confrontation? The cavalry was rested and waiting, while the infantry had just marched thousands of miles. This is impossible. Even Yue Fei's army couldn't have pulled off such a legendary victory.)
The Battle of Kohor became a virtual propaganda film for the Unsullied. Not only across the continent of Essos, but even in Westeros across the Narrow Sea, this event was woven into legendary tales and widely circulated.
Kraznys mo Nakloz grinned exaggeratedly at Daenerys, his mouth splitting open. "Tell her the story of how 3,000 Unsullied defended Kohor. Let it astonish her. Hurry up, slave. Oh, the weather is truly too hot. Has the Eternal Summer finally arrived?"
The young slave girl recounted the story with vivid expressions and a lively tone, concluding, "Honored guest, please rest assured. The Unsullied are peerless in their mastery of the spear, shield, and short sword. This is known to all the world."
Daenerys turned her head and whispered a complaint to Jorah, "What was with that Temocao? He's dragged the Horsemen's reputation through the mud for generations to come."
She knew the Roaring Warriors well. Their martial skill was absolute. Raised in the saddle, they were masters of the bow and horse, and their fearless nature made them the strongest light cavalry in the world.
She had always believed that only the Westerosi Ironclad Heavy Cavalry could counter them, but...
She glanced at the Unsullied standing beside them, as still as wooden stakes. They wore conical bronze helmets topped with a 30cm spike—reminiscent of the lightning-rod helmets worn by generals of the Qing Dynasty. Their attire consisted only of sleeveless leather armor. A 40cm shortsword was tucked into their belts, a leather-wrapped wooden shield with a one-meter diameter was strapped to their left wrists, and they held spears in their right hands.
It was the standard gear of light infantry.
How could they possibly stand against the Horsemen, who rode like the wind and rained arrows like a storm?
"My guess is that Temo underestimated the Unsullied during their first encounter," Jorah said, choosing his words carefully. "He likely ordered his cavalry to charge directly into the Unsullied's phalanx of shields and spears."
The fact that 3,000 Unsullied defended Kohor was a matter of historical record, not some ethereal legend. They must have won that battle, or else Kohor City wouldn't even exist today.
Whitebeard stroked his beard and sighed. "The Horsemen are too direct. Temocao led the first charge, which means he likely fell in that first wave. The remaining warriors don't know how to shift formations. If any other army had charged wave after wave like that, they would have broken once their casualties reached twenty percent. But these are the Unsullied. They will never retreat, never panic, even if only one man is left standing."
Kraznys tapped the girl's small head with the short whip in his hand and asked irritably, "What are those savage swine saying?"
"The two servants are boasting to the guests about the Unsullied's bravery," the little translator said.
"Hahaha, at least they have some sense. Let them keep talking. The more that little bitch is swayed, the more slaves she'll buy later." The slave lord laughed loudly, clapped his hands, and summoned a group of young female slaves in silk tunics and trousers. They approached Daenerys and her companions, holding silk-patterned parasols over them.
The parasols were of little use. The weather in Slaver's Bay was sweltering. The sun had been blazing since dawn, baking the thick red bricks of the Square of Pride until they were hot to the touch. Even through the thick soles of their shoes, they could feel the heat radiating from the ground.
Waves of heat shimmered, making the terraced pyramids surrounding the square appear like a mirage.
"Unsullied, my good slaves!" Kraznys shouted, raising his silver whip high. "Lay down your shields and spears, remove your leather armor, and let the women of Westeros see your strong and powerful bodies."
*Clatter!*
A thousand warriors, previously as still as stone statues, suddenly sprang to life. In perfect unison, they bent down to set aside their shields and spears, then swiftly unbuckled their leather armor and silk trousers, leaving only the white linen wraps around their waists and the pointed helmets upon their heads.
They quickly stood tall again, offering themselves for the Queen of Westeros's careful inspection.
Daenerys did indeed look closely. Sure enough, every one of them possessed a lean, muscular physique.
Though they were all eunuchs, Bevos had a belly like a pregnant woman, while these men each boasted a six-pack of abdominal muscles.
The slave girl told her, "They are selected for their build, speed, and strength, and trained from the age of five. They practice from dawn until dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three types of spears."
The training was brutally severe, and it was common knowledge that only one in three boys survived.
There was a saying about the Unsullied: from the day they won the Spiked Helm, their hardest days were behind them. From then on, no mission would ever be as grueling as their initial training.
Kraznys did not speak the Common Tongue, but he nodded along as if he understood, pretending to follow the little translator's words. When the translation was finished, he said smugly, "Tell that queen who lost her kingdom that my good slaves have been standing there since yesterday. A day and a night, without a single bite of food or a drop of water. Tell her that as long as I do not order them to dismiss, the slaves will remain standing motionless until they collapse. Tell her that even if nine hundred and ninety-nine fall dead on the brick floor, the last one will still stand motionless until death claims him. Tell her—this is the courage of the Unsullied."
After the solemn little translator finished speaking, Whitebeard angrily slammed his hardwood cane against the ground and lowered his voice to Daenerys. "That is not courage, but madness. Let's go. Everyone here is a madman!"
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(End of Chapter)