"Master, should I still translate your previous words?" the little Black girl asked hesitantly.
"Which words?"
"You said the Unsullied are incomparably loyal, and the Golden Company is untrustworthy."
*Smack!* Kraznys slapped her small head hard and said angrily, "Of course I want words that favor the trade translated! You stupid sheep, do you even need to ask that?"
The little translator endured the blow and said, "But you later said the Golden Company never breaks its contracts, and they have now signed a pact with the City of Myr. Her Majesty the Queen of Westeros can no longer hire the Golden Company."
"This..." After a moment's hesitation, the fat slave owner irritably tugged at his sweat-soaked cloth robe and said, "Ask her how she plans to hire the Golden Company first."
After the little translator asked the question, she replied, "House Targaryen has a blood pact with the Golden Company; they will help me reclaim my kingdom.
After all, the founder of the Golden Company was a Targaryen bastard, and the legion's core members are mostly descendants of exiled Westerosi nobles.
Since they can return home to be nobles, they naturally wouldn't be willing to remain mercenaries in a foreign land with no job security."
Whitebeard and Jorah both looked at Daenerys in shock, never having expected her to hold such a trump card.
"That seems plausible," Kraznys mused, stroking his coarse, black-and-red beard that bristled like steel needles. He sighed, "Tell her she can go back to discuss it. I will hold this batch of Unsullied for her for now."
*That stingy bastard,* Daenerys cursed the slave owner in her mind as she politely took her leave. *It's already noon, and he still hasn't offered me a meal. I've been standing in the square all morning without even a drop of water, while that fat pig has been gorging on ice wine and fresh fruit.*
After crossing the Square of Pride, she retrieved the horses and oxen from the pens at the street corner. As the Dothraki horsemen were yoking the oxen to the cart, Jorah asked in a low voice, "Your Highness, do you truly have a secret pact with the Golden Company?"
"It's a lie," Daenerys replied, climbing onto the cart first before gesturing for Whitebeard to follow. "Viserys once took me to meet Commander Symon Toyne. He used the money from selling Mother's crown to throw a lavish feast for the Golden Company's officers, hoping they would help him reclaim the throne."
"Heh, those bastards just gorged themselves on food and drink, then roared with laughter after Viserys finished his plea."
"Mace Toyne?" Whitebeard pondered for a moment, then sighed. "Black-hearted Mace died three years ago. The Toyne family is completely extinct. The current commander of the Golden Company is Harry Strickland, known as 'the Homeless'."
Sensing the turmoil in his voice, Daenerys asked curiously, "Is the Toyne family very famous?"
"Almost all the core members of the Golden Company are descendants of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility.
A hundred years ago, after the First Blackfyre Rebellion failed, some of the nobles who supported Daemon Blackfyre surrendered, while others, led by Eggon Rivers, followed Daemon's son into exile. The lands and titles of those who fled were confiscated by the Crown.
Eggon witnessed many exiled knights and lords joining other mercenary companies out of desperation. Fearing that the number of families supporting Blackfyre would dwindle, he decided to establish his own mercenary company: the Golden Company."
Speaking of which, the "Blackfyre Rebellion" was actually caused by that "Blessed" Saint Baelor.
Remember the Maiden's Keep that Saint Baelor built in the palace?
Because he "followed the laws of heaven and suppressed human desires," he not only broke his engagement to his own sister, Diana, but also confined her and their two other sisters to the Maiden's Keep.
He wanted to ensure that neither he nor his sisters would be defiled by "evil" desires.
But as the saying goes: A daughter kept from marriage becomes a grudge.
Diana escaped the tower and started keeping a wild lover.
The adulterer was none other than their own kinsman—Diana and Baelor's cousin.
Soon, Princess Diana's belly swelled, and she could no longer hide the truth.
How did Saint Baelor handle this matter?
He went to the Holy Sept to fast and pray. After fasting intermittently for over forty days, he starved to death.
Saint Baelor remained a virgin his entire life and naturally had no son to inherit the throne. That "sneaky-eating" cousin, Aegon IV, instead reaped a huge benefit and became king.
Even though both parents were Targaryens, they were not married, so the child they conceived was still a bastard: Daemon Waters.
Indeed, since the Crownlands are close to the sea, bastards born in the Crownlands are given the surname Waters.
Later, Aegon IV publicly bestowed the Targaryen ancestral sword, Blackfyre, upon his bastard son and legitimized him. It was then that Daemon changed his name from Waters to Blackfyre.
"House Toyne is one of those noble families," Whitebeard said, his grip tightening on his cane in frustration, nearly letting slip too much. "In the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion—the War of the Ninepenny Kings forty years ago, I, uh, I heard Ser Barristan killed Mace's father, Symon Toyne."
Daenerys glanced at him. "You even know about something as minor as Ser Barristan killing Symon?"
"It was no minor matter," Whitebeard replied, racking his brain for any glorious history of House Toyne. After a long pause, he stammered, "House Toyne has always been renowned for its martial prowess. Every generation produces several powerful knights. They even had a member of the Kingsguard once!"
"Hmph!" Jorah, standing by the oxcart, scoffed meaningfully. "Why don't you tell Her Highness what that Kingsguard from House Toyne actually did?"
Whitebeard was startled. "You remember things from hundreds of years ago?"
"Heh, there's only ever been one Kingsguard who dared to cuckold a king!" Jorah laughed.
As soon as he finished, he slapped his helmet with a *thwack*. "Ah, I'm wrong. Now there's also Jaime Lannister. The White Bull, who knighted him into the Kingsguard, must be stomping his feet in heaven with regret. Ser Jaime has single-handedly broken every taboo of the Kingsguard."
Whitebeard's face turned ashen. His lips were pressed tight, and he remained silent.
The words were irrefutable.
Jaime Lannister had joined the Kingsguard through the most formal ceremony, making him more "legitimately" a Kingsguard than Robert's or Joffrey's. And his actions—kingslaying, incest, sleeping with the king's wife—were just as real.
"Ser, you are also a Kingsguard now," Daenerys said, breaking the awkward silence.
"This man has no sponsor, no recognition from the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and his name is not in the *White Book*. He cannot be considered a legitimate Kingsguard," the old man advised Daenerys. "Your Highness, I believe you should consider this carefully. Even if Ser Jorah has the merit of protecting you, you can reward him in other ways."
"The Kingsguard's reputation is already in tatters," Whitebeard declared. "We cannot let anyone else trample upon it!"
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Jorah pounded his fist against the oxcart's small window, his voice booming. "You old dog! Get out here! I challenge you to a duel to the death!"
"Change into a fresh set of armor first," Whitebeard retorted. "I'll even let you have one hand!"
"Ahem. Have you both forgotten our current predicament?" Daenerys interjected, changing the subject. "Let's discuss the Unsullied. One at a time—Astapor, you first."
"I advise Your Highness against purchasing them," Astapor said gravely. "The nobles and common folk of the Seven Kingdoms despise slavery. Whether by the Old Gods or the New, enslaving others is considered an abomination. If you bring an army of slaves into Westeros and intend to use them to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, every noble on the continent will rise against you."
Daenerys looked into Astapor's melancholy blue eyes. "Astapor, do you truly trust Illyrio?"
"This—"
Seeing the old man hesitate, Jorah sneered. "No wise man would trust that fat spice merchant. Entrusting one's life to a merchant is far less practical than hiring the Unsullied."
"I admit the slave owners and the institution of slavery in Slaver's Bay are evil, but the Unsullied are incredibly useful. They won't loot or rape women after a victory. Tywin Lannister's Westerlands army sacked all of King's Landing and raped countless women!"
"This is why I believe Ser Jorah is unfit for the Kingsguard," Whitebeard said angrily to Daenerys. "He himself is one of these slave traders. Think about what he did on Bear Island, and you won't wonder why he's urging you to buy slaves in Slaver's Bay! He's an expert, after all!"
"Old man, I've been tolerating you for a long time," Jorah said furiously to Daenerys. "Your Highness, I suggest you send him and that fat eunuch away immediately. Illyrio might be just like Quaithe and Xaro—they all want your dragons. He sent them to trick you into going to Pentos alone. Once you're on his turf, he'll do whatever he pleases with you. We've already arrived in Slaver's Bay and no longer need the large ship. Let them all return to Pentos."
"You lie! How could I ever help the Pentos merchants deceive Your Highness?" Whitebeard's face flushed crimson, his fury flaring as if he'd been gravely insulted.
"Your Highness, you were right to distrust Illyrio. Merchants cannot be trusted. But you must understand: to win the loyal support of the Seven Kingdoms, you can only rely on its own people.
Why don't we return to Pentos first? I have connections and can help you recruit a group of loyal nobles, from whom you can select a contingent of knights to serve as your personal guard."
Daenerys opened her mouth to speak, but the oxcart suddenly jolted to a halt. A moment later, Jorah's voice boomed from the road ahead: "Clear the way for the Mother of Dragons! Move it, you slaves! Get out of her path!"
Daenerys pulled back the curtain and peered out. At the crossroads ahead, a long line of slaves dragged their heavy chains, trudging forward in silent struggle.
They were ordinary slaves—light brown skin, black hair, almond-shaped eyes. Dothraki? Yezidi?
Normally, one could tell the Dothraki and Yezidi apart at a glance.
Beyond their braids and clothing, the two peoples possessed entirely different spirits. The Dothraki were more arrogant; both men and women carried an air of "I don't even submit to the gods, so why would I submit to you? Kill me if you have the guts."
But now, their faces were uniformly numb, their eyes dim, and their demeanors submissive.
Everyone was naked, including the women. There were no children among them, likely sent off to Unsullied training.
A slave driver stood by the line, followed by a man and a woman, both Astapori, riding white donkeys. The man wore a red silk tokar robe. The woman, with red-and-black hair held up by an ivory comb, wore a veil over her face and a deep blue linen gown adorned with small turquoise stones, exuding the exotic air of the Ghiscari.
They had been laughing and flirting when Jorah's shout reached them. The man glanced casually at Daenerys's party, made a gesture to the slave driver to quicken the pace, and then returned to flirting with the woman beside him.
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(End of Chapter)