The overseer was a burly Dothraki, wielding a long whip braided from five thin thongs. A chained harpy was tattooed across his muscular chest.
The Dothraki overseer carried himself with pride, his whip cracking loudly as he bellowed, "Hurry up, you lowborn slaves!" and similar insults.
"Hey, Dothraki! You with the harpy on your chest!" Daenerys leaned halfway out of the carriage door and waved to the overseer. "Where are these slaves from?"
"From the Great Grass Sea, of course," the Dothraki overseer shouted back. "Woman, they were brought here from Meereen. They're all defeated Khal's people."
"Call her Khaleesi!" Jorah roared, pointing at him.
"What's the big deal? I'm not one of her Khal's people," the Dothraki overseer muttered.
Daenerys waved her hand at the Blood Rider, signaling him to ignore such trivialities, and continued questioning the overseer: "What's to be done with these slaves?"
"They can't become Unsullied. They're to be taken to the docks and sold to slave traders."
Seeming to sense a business opportunity, the Ghiscari man finally stopped flirting with his female companion. He rode his donkey forward a few steps and said with a smile, "Khaleesi, are you interested in this lot of slaves? Let me tell you, we're not those kinds of middlemen. Our prices are so low they're practically free."
"I once bought a batch of Dothraki slaves in Quarth. They said they were shipped from Apostas. Twenty Dothraki cost me forty silver coins—too expensive," Daenerys said, shaking her head repeatedly.
"Hah, those are middlemen! Shipping from Apostas to city-states like Quarth or Valantis involves a sea voyage. The price more than doubles," the slave owner shouted, pointing to his own slaves. "Three for one silver coin! Pick freely, choose whatever you like. If you buy in bulk, I can even give you a discount."
Daenerys glanced sideways, estimating about three hundred slaves. "What discount if I buy all of them?"
"Buy all of them?" The man looked at her skeptically.
"My Kalas is too small; I need to replenish its population," she explained.
"Oh, right, you are a Khaleesi," the man realized, his eyes gleaming as he suggested, "How about I introduce you to another batch? There are over eight hundred, all young and strong. I can give you a twenty percent discount on those."
"Are they all Dothraki?" she asked doubtfully.
"Sigh, the Dothraki are fierce and fearless in battle, but they're useless in the arena, can't farm, and lack any craftsmanship. We don't need them as slave soldiers either. Aside from breeding little Dothraki to be Unsullied, they're practically worthless," the young slave owner lamented.
"If they're so useless, why did you buy so many?" Daenerys asked.
The Apostan glanced at Jorah, then at Jorah again as he stood protectively beside Daenerys. "Since you are a Khaleesi, you must understand the nature of the Dothraki," he said cautiously. "When a Khal leads tens of thousands of Screamers to our gates and demands a 'gift' of horses and slaves, how can we refuse?"
He shrugged. "Fortunately, most Khals don't ask for much. A few supplies can buy a large number of slaves, so we can still turn a small profit."
"Sigh."
Daenerys sighed and returned to the carriage. From the window, she said to Jorah, "Tell him where our ships are docked. We'll buy three hundred now, and the remaining eight hundred when we leave."
"Ah, if you buy them now, you can get them even cheaper," the Apostan quickly interjected.
"We have nowhere to put them! You hold them for me for now. It won't be more than three days, and they won't eat much of your grain."
"Very well."
The carriage moved faster than the slaves. Daenerys continued forward, and the slave column changed direction to follow behind the caravan.
They traveled along the long red-brick streets all the way to the dock district, but still saw few pedestrians.
In fact, the long red-brick docks were sparsely occupied, with only a dozen or so ships moored.
As soon as she stepped off the oxcart, Daenerys smelled a rich, meaty aroma. Turning her head, she saw the burly Bevos sitting on the red-brick pavement, his legs dangling over the sea. Beside him was a small clay pot, and the fragrant scent wafted from it.
Noticing her gaze, Bevos pulled a dripping, brown piece of meat from the pot and called out, "Little Queen, want some?"
"What kind of meat?" she asked, walking over with curiosity.
"Dog meat." Seeing Daenerys approach, Bevos looked delighted. He introduced the dish with a grin: "The Apostans are experts at eating dog meat—roasted dog, dog jelly, dog fetuses, meat stewed in rich broth... *Tsk, tsk*. Bevos has traveled all over Essos, and the dog meat here is the absolute best."
Daenerys followed his lead, sitting on the ground with her feet dangling in the sea. She scooped a piece of scalding dog meat from the pot with her right hand and began tearing into it with large bites.
"Wow, this is delicious! Truly delicious!" she shouted to Jijqi, who was peering over the ship's railing. "What's the point of meat without wine? Jijqi, bring those two bottles of Green Pavilion Island red wine!"
"Hahaha, you're right! Meat and wine, that's the way it should be!" the Tall Eunuch exclaimed, his joy growing.
"Your Highness the Princess," Whitebeard's brow furrowed deeply. He hesitated before advising, "You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. How can you... how can you act so..."
"Forget the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys said, her mouth full of meat. "Even if the Seven Gods descended to earth, they'd still have to eat when it's mealtime. Otherwise, the Holy Prince would have starved to death." As she spoke, rich juices dripped from the corner of her mouth onto the qipao on her chest.
"You..." Whitebeard was even more shocked. "The Holy Prince is your ancestor!"
"So, did he starve to death?" she asked casually.
"Yes," Whitebeard replied with difficulty.
"See? I told you so!"
Jijqi trotted down the stairs carrying two bottles of wine. Daenerys popped the cork with her teeth—an unladylike gesture that made Whitebeard's eyelid twitch.
She handed the uncorked bottle to the fat eunuch, then took a swig herself. Exhaling a long breath, she sighed, "I dare say this tastes ten times better than sitting on the Iron Throne."
"Hahaha!" The fat eunuch slapped his thigh in laughter. "I'm telling you, from now on, Bevos will adore you. He'll see you as a true queen."
"Hah, I only realized today that you actually have some taste in food," Daenerys teased. "Before, I thought you were just a pig who'd stuff anything down his throat!"
"Hahaha—"
"Your Highness the Princess, surely you haven't forgotten what Krazni said?" Jorah interjected from the side.
"What words?" she grumbled, gnawing on a bone. "Sichuan pepper without chili... it's just not quite right."
"What chili? You mean Dragon Pepper?" Bevos asked.
"No, Dragon Pepper is a peppercorn. It's not the same as chili—the kind that makes your mouth feel like it's on fire." Daenerys gestured vaguely, then waved her hand in dismissal. "When my dragon is grown, I'll ride him to find the real chili."
"Cough, cough, cough." Jorah coughed several times, reminding her: *I'm talking to you!*
"I'm listening. Go on," she said.
"Every Unsullied must kill the dog they've raised for a year, but many Unsullied are unable to complete this trial."
Daenerys, who had been gnawing on a bone as thick as a child's arm, froze.
Jorah continued as if he hadn't noticed: "Then the slave owner kills the young Unsullied and feeds his flesh to the puppy. Perhaps many of the dogs in Apostas were—"
"Stop!" Daenerys raised the wine bottle, interrupting him. She spat out the bone and asked Bevos, "With your years of experience eating dog meat, you can definitely tell this is an old dog, right?"
Before Bevos could answer, Daenerys set the bottle down, pushed herself up from the floor with both hands, and said to Jorah, "This is just an old dog from a common household. Hmm, Bevos, you can continue. I'm full, I'm going up for a nap."
With that, she walked toward the spiral staircase with an air of nonchalance, though her steps were somewhat unsteady.
*Is she drunk?*
In the afternoon, over three hundred Dothraki slaves were delivered to the ship. Since a buyer had already been found, they no longer had to stand naked for inspection. Now, they were not only draped in tattered linen robes but also wore bronze slave collars.
Daenerys did not integrate the men into a combat *Niulu*. Instead, she summoned Afanti and instructed him to assign them menial tasks.
"They are no longer considered Horse People now; they're practically ruined. Let them first recall the glorious days of the Horse People before you make further arrangements," she told the old man.
As she spoke, she noticed several older women among the line of slaves and asked the old man, "Afanti, do you want a wife? If you nod, I'll introduce you to an old companion."
Afanti hesitated. "Khaleesi, marriage is not common among the Horse People. The weak cannot prevent the strong from seizing their wives."
"So you *are* interested?" Seeing a glimmer of hope, Daenerys patted his shoulder and encouraged him, "Afanti, your status has changed. You're commanding a *Niulu* now! Isn't that enough to make you feel proud? Even my Blood Riders are only a single *Niulu*."
"These Dothraki worship strength. What's the point of being a Niulu Commander?"
"Hmph, 'what's the point'? You have no right to stand here and speak to me. This is my Kalas, and I make the decisions. Strength is important, yes, but loyalty to me and service to Kalas are far more important."
Seeing his hesitant expression, the nearby Dothraki also looked unconvinced. They were all Niulu Commanders of Kalas.
She pointed to a tall, powerfully built Dothraki among the slaves and asked the crowd loudly, "That man could easily defeat three Afantis. Now, because of his superior strength, should I strip Afanti of his position as Niulu Commander and let him take over? From now on, he would be your equal, sitting on the same level as you Niulu Commanders. Would you be happy with that?"
"No, please don't!" Afanti cried with a long face, pleading, "Can't I just marry a wife? Khaleesi, I've walked the Red Waste with you, crossed the Ten Thousand Miles of Poisonous Water. If you do this, I... I won't be happy!"
"Khaleesi, Afanti has always helped us tend the horses, he's very—" Ago stepped forward, his face crumpled in frustration as he scratched his head, unsure how to put his thoughts into words.
Daenerys waved a hand. "I'm only asking: Are you happy?"
"I don't know why, but I'm not happy," Ago muttered gloomily.
"Neither am I," the remaining Blood Riders and Horse Lords chimed in, their voices clashing in a chorus of discontent.
*Clap!* Daenerys brought her palms together. "Exactly! Of course you're not happy! No one is invincible. If we only judge a person's status by their martial prowess, then one day, you'll all be replaced by newcomers.
"They've contributed nothing to Kalas. It's only because of our great kindness that they were granted freedom and could reclaim their dignity as Horse People.
"We are their benefactors!
"How can they ride all over us the moment they join Kalas? This is wrong."
The Horse People's faces lit up with agreement. Ago felt as if Khaleesi had just spoken the very words he'd been struggling to articulate.
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(End of Chapter)