"Seven hells!" Whitebeard groaned after hearing the explanation. "This is madness—absolute madness! How can anyone expect people to memorize a new name every single day?"
"Yes," Kraznys nodded in agreement after listening to the translator. "The world lacks many things, but fools are never in short supply. That is why we select only those who are intelligent, strong, and obedient.
If they cannot remember their new name—kill them.
If they cannot run all day carrying a full load—kill them.
If they cannot climb a mountain in complete darkness—kill them.
If they cannot walk barefoot across burning coals—kill them.
If they cannot kill a baby—kill them.
If they cannot kill a dog—kill them."
Now even Jorah's face twisted in disgust. His right hand tightened around his sword hilt until the leather creaked.
Daenerys believed that if she gave the order, he would charge forward without hesitation and split the smug slave master in two.
Truthfully, she herself looked no better. Her face had gone pale, her expression distorted.
The slave master saw it all. Yet instead of feeling shame, he looked proud and delighted, staring at her with open contempt.
"Kill babies?" Daenerys lowered her eyes and asked. "Whose babies do the Unsullied kill? Is this part of siege training?"
Kraznys sneered.
"Before earning the spiked helmet and becoming a true Unsullied, every slave receives a silver coin. He goes to the slave market, finds a crying newborn, and kills it in front of the mother.
That way we know there is no weakness left in his heart."
Crack.
Daenerys thought she heard someone grinding their teeth.
Was it Jorah Mormont?
Or Whitebeard Arstan?
Only when she tried to speak did she realize the sound had come from herself.
Her jaws were clenched so tightly that blood flavored her mouth.
"They tear infants from their mothers' arms and kill them before their eyes," she said through gritted teeth. "And then they pay a silver coin as compensation? Even for training Unsullied, isn't that monstrously cruel?"
"Hahahaha!"
Once the translator finished relaying her words, Kraznys burst into laughter.
"This babbling whore is such a soft-hearted fool!
Tell her the coin goes to the baby's owner, not its mother. A slave owns nothing—not even her own child!"
Compared to the lives and dignity of countless people, what did a little personal insult matter?
Daenerys had once thought the Daenerys of the story was foolish—throwing away the Targaryen family's credibility for a few thousand Unsullied.
Now she felt she understood her.
Or perhaps she understood Qin Shi Huang a little better: bearing the hatred of the world in order to benefit it.
Well, perhaps she was exaggerating.
Qin Shi Huang had faced far greater burdens and achieved far greater things.
Still, as Kraznys laughed proudly, Daenerys made a decision in her heart.
When she suddenly smiled sweetly at him, Kraznys stopped laughing.
He stared at her suspiciously.
She kept smiling.
Feeling strangely uncomfortable, he looked away.
Then a surge of embarrassment washed over him.
The slave master angrily smacked his leg with his whip and barked at the translator:
"Tell that Westerosi whore that killing babies is nothing.
Most slaves fail the dog test.
When each boy is castrated, I give him a puppy. He raises it for a year, and then he must strangle it with his own hands.
If he cannot do it, he is executed immediately.
His flesh is cut from his bones and fed to the very dog he refused to kill.
Dogs have no such sentimental concerns—they eat quite happily!
Ask them if they find that surprising.
Unsullied feel nothing for babies, but the puppy is their only friend—their only emotional support!
Hahahaha!"
Whitebeard turned his gaze away.
Kraznys disgusted him beyond measure.
Never before had he so desperately wished to leave a city—an entire bay.
The place was so filthy that even a righteous man like him could barely endure it.
"Princess," he said solemnly, "with all sincerity, I advise you to leave at once. Hell is no place for someone as pure as you."
"The slave masters belong in hell," Jorah replied. "But what does that have to do with the Unsullied? Serving the queen is better than being tortured here."
"Buying Unsullied helps the slave masters," Whitebeard argued. "They will use our gold dragons to buy more children, kill more babies, and slaughter more dogs."
"And if we don't buy them?" Jorah scoffed. "Will the Unsullied stop being produced? Are we their only customers?"
"Hey! You Westerosi pigs!"
Kraznys cracked his whip impatiently.
"What are you muttering about?
If you're buying, buy.
If not, leave.
I'm busy.
A Pirate King is coming later to inspect slaves. He says he wants to buy all of them."
"Master," the little translator reminded him, "the Pirate King came three days ago. Today's only appointment is Her Majesty, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
Kraznys jabbed the back of her head with his whip handle.
"Just because he came three days ago doesn't mean he can't come again!
The deal wasn't finalized!"
The girl shrank back and endured the blow.
"Master, you're right. But the Pirate King only wanted one hundred Unsullied, and he insisted on paying half price. You told him to get lost—"
"Ow!"
Kraznys struck her again.
"How I conduct business is none of your concern, slave brat!
If I don't pressure her, how will that silver-haired whore queen pay a premium price for my slaves?"
The translator meekly repeated his words.
Daenerys immediately looked anxious.
"Oh no, Good Master. You mustn't do that. I still need Unsullied to reclaim my kingdom."
"Then buy them quickly!"
Kraznys grinned smugly.
"Business has been terrible lately.
Only those little wars between Myr and Tyrosh are going on.
It's too peaceful!
Otherwise, would I be bargaining with some hanged-man pirate?
I've heard Westeros is in chaos.
Once the whore queen opens opportunities there with my Unsullied...
Hehehe...
Imagine three thousand Unsullied defending King's Landing!
Those savages will be stunned.
I hear they have seven kings.
And the richest one, Tywin, supposedly craps gold!
When they come looking for soldiers, the Good Masters of Astapor can raise prices!"
Seeing the translator still standing there, Kraznys smacked her shoulder.
"Quick!
Tell them to buy those animals and take them away.
Oh, right.
They're fully trained Unsullied now.
The best business is selling them the moment training is complete.
What a shame.
Unlike pigs, Unsullied don't grow fatter with age.
But they eat even more than pigs.
Feeding them every day costs a fortune.
And I can't cut rations.
If they get skinny, nobody buys them."
"But Master," the translator complained pitifully, "you've said so much. How am I supposed to translate all that?"
"You stupid Naathi sheep!"
Kraznys repeatedly smacked her head, shoulders, and neck while shouting insults.
"Some things should be translated, some shouldn't.
Can't you figure that out yourself?"
The girl stood perfectly still and endured the beating.
When he finally stopped, panting from exhaustion, she replied:
"Master, the only part worth translating is, 'Please place your order quickly.'
But you've spoken for so long that even if they don't understand the language, they'll know you said far more than that."
"Huh. Good point."
He thought for a moment.
Then struck her once more on the head.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner, you little slut?
Were you born from a sheep on Naath?"
"Sorry, Master," she said expressionlessly.
"Please stop talking. The guests are watching."
Smack!
Another whip strike.
"You worthless slave! Lower than a stray dog! How dare you tell a Great Good Master what to do?"
"Sorry, Master," she replied through the pain.
"You did tell me to remind you."
Kraznys froze with the whip raised.
After a long pause, he tapped her head one final time.
"Fine.
Just tell them how popular Unsullied are on the market.
Tell them if they don't buy now, they'll miss their chance."
The little translator straightened herself and began delivering an elaborate sales pitch.
It was nearly as long as the speech Kraznys had just given.
A remarkable feat for such a small girl.
Daenerys listened with barely concealed amusement.
When the translation ended, she said nervously:
"Really?
As you can see, my two advisers disagree.
I planned to return and hold a council before making a decision.
Perhaps I should abandon the idea of buying Unsullied.
To be honest, lifelong Unsullied seem far more reliable than the Golden Company."
After hearing the translation, Kraznys narrowed his eyes.
"That whore is right.
Unsullied serve for life.
The Golden Company charges outrageous prices and demands contract renewals every few years.
Damn them.
Always the Golden Company.
Just like that business with Myr..."
Then he suddenly eyed Daenerys suspiciously.
"The Golden Company recently signed a contract with Myr.
Their motto is 'Our Word Is Good As Gold.'
They've never broken a contract since their founding.
How does this Westerosi whore expect to hire them?
Is she trying to bargain?
Ask her properly."
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)