The next morning, Daenerys practiced the standard sword-strike drill three hundred times with Whitebeard, just as she always did.
The old man told her that while her form was barely acceptable, she had yet to build the necessary muscle memory. As long as she considered herself a warrior, she would have to train every single day.
After washing up and eating a hearty breakfast, Daenerys shed her loose training clothes. She changed into a painted leather vest, silk shorts, horsehair-wrapped leggings, and leather riding sandals.
A bronze medal-studded belt was fastened around her slender waist. Her handmaiden braided her whip, attaching two tinkling silver bells to the end. One represented her victory over the Demigod Immortal in the Hall of Immortals; the other was a trophy from Euron.
The battle against Euron had been far more perilous and brutal than the one in the Hall of Immortals. Daenerys felt no guilt in adding a second bell to her collection.
Today, she would ride her little silver horse to Punishment Square. With the morning's trade complete, she might be leaving Astapor by noon.
Ago and Rakaro, her Blood Covenant Guards, rode ahead. Each held a great banner aloft, the green flags with black dragons snapping in the wind.
Daenerys was not flying the Targaryen family's three-headed dragon banner at this time. The black dragon was her "destined" mount, and the green represented the endless Great Sea of Grass.
She rode on her little silver horse, followed by Bevos, who chose to walk, jogging to protect her left side. Missandei also rode a small mare on Daenerys's right side, Whitebeard rode a tall warhorse on Missandei's right side, and Jorah Mormont guarded the rear.
Surrounding them were over twenty Roaring Knights, their scimitars tucked into their waists and longbows hanging from their saddles. Their uniform moon-gate hairstyles drew pointed fingers and whispers from the pedestrians on the street.
Behind the knights was a long caravan of horse-drawn carriages—one hundred seventy-seven in all. Besides gold, silver, jewelry, and jade, there were six large bundles of tiger skins, three hundred bolts of Essosi fine silk, over a thousand jars of saffron, myrrh, black pepper, curry, and nutmeg, and eighty barrels of Yidu's finest red, black, and green inks.
There was also a barrel of pitted olives filled with worms, twelve barrels of salted cave fish, a batch of exquisite bronze ware, seventeen ivory eyes, and a carriage full of books from the Jade Sea Kingdoms.
Beyond these precious foreign wares, there were dozens of carts laden with black rice and wine, primarily used as ballast. These were common goods in the great maritime trade and not considered particularly valuable.
The grand procession, stretching a full mile, caused a stir in the Red Brick Market. Daenerys had not assigned any guards to the caravan; they had already been inventoried by scribes in the Dock District, and their ownership now rested with the Good Masters. In Astapor, they were completely safe.
The eight Good Masters, accompanied by their wives and children, stood on the final step of the trapezoidal pyramid, all clad in tokar robes. From their vantage point, they looked down upon Daenerys as she rode toward them from the far end of the plaza.
Punishment Square was filled with the army of the Unsullied, standing in row upon row, as motionless as stakes driven into the ground.
There were 8,600 fully trained Unsullied, wearing their pointed helmets. Another 5,000 stood bareheaded, armed only with spears and shortswords. They had not completed their full training and lacked helmets.
Among them were children as young as five or six, their faces still holding the soft lines of childhood.
Yet even without their full training, they stood as straight and still as the true Unsullied, their gazes fixed and unwavering.
Daenerys took the lead, striding through the ranks of the Unsullied to the base of the pyramid. She dismounted, took two boxes from her saddle, and placed them one by one on the steps directly below the Good Master.
Then Euron also dismounted and walked over to open the two boxes. The first contained a scroll—a sea chart drawn by Euron himself. The second was lined with a thick Myrish carpet, upon which rested a bronze dragon egg, its surface mottled with rust.
Euron cradled the egg, turning it over in his hands. Finding its weight and texture correct, he set it down, stood up, and nodded to the Good Master. "Indeed, this is the dragon egg stolen from me."
"It is my war prize!" Daenerys corrected.
"The dragon egg of the Valyrian Dragonlord now belongs to Astapor!" Grazdan said with a chuckle.
"The trade must be completed first," Daenerys replied calmly.
Just then, a scribe hurried up the steps and handed the inventory to the Good Master.
Seeing that all the goods were present, Grazdan said solemnly, "Complete the final task, and the trade will be finalized immediately."
"What task?" Daenerys asked, her heart pounding, though her expression remained as still as water.
"Swear it," the slave master demanded, his face grim. "Swear that the bronze dragon egg is truly viable, that it can hatch a dragon."
Daenerys felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her voice rang out clearly: "By the honor of the descendants of Valyria and the Targaryen family, and by my right as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I swear: the bronze dragon egg I obtained from Euron is viable, and in my hands, it will surely hatch a dragon."
Then, she arched an eyebrow, her tone turning warning. "I am the Mother of Dragons, the one who has awakened the legendary bloodline of ancient Valyria. Therefore, if I pay a certain price, there is a very high chance I can hatch a small bronze dragon."
"But if *you* wish to hatch a dragon," she continued, "you will need more than just a Shadow Priest. It is best if a true dragon descendant or a Valyrian noble performs the hatching."
"We also have Valyrian blood," Kraznys muttered.
It was the truth. From Qarth to Slaver's Bay, to Volantis and all the Free Cities except Braavos, the upper nobility all carried Valyrian blood. After all, the original rulers of these free cities had been pure-blooded Valyrian nobles.
The Dragonlords who owned dragons had resided in the capital of Valyria, while the lesser nobles or cadet branches of the great houses—those without dragons—were enfeoffed across the lands.
After the Cataclysm, it was the minor nobles and their descendants who survived.
Among them, the rulers of Volantis possessed the purest bloodlines, even surpassing those of House Targaryen. This was because the Targaryens had intermarried with other families numerous times over the subsequent 400 years. In contrast, Volantis had a larger number of nobles, and its greater population base allowed it to maintain a closed and conservative genetic system.
"I have already sworn my oath and given the warnings I needed to. Can we complete the trade now?" Daenerys asked.
"After the trade is complete, will Ser Euron be free?" Grazdan asked, seemingly posing a question completely unrelated to the current topic.
But Daenerys understood. Dragon eggs were precious, but the sea chart was worth ten times, a hundred times more.
Valyria had ruled the world for 5,000 years. How much wealth had they amassed in that time?
It was unimaginable.
Some speculated that the gold and silver there might exceed all the wealth in the current world combined.
What did Valyria rely on to rule the world for 5,000 years?
Dragons and magic.
Dragons that were real, and magic that was real.
In the 400 years after the Cataclysm, how many explorers had tried to cross the Smoking Sea, hoping to find treasure and secret arts in the Valyrian city-states?
Countless.
In *One Piece*, Roger's single question—"Do you want my treasure?"—ushered in the Great Pirate Era.
But Roger's treasure, compared to Valyria, wasn't even a hair's breadth of its worth.
Unfortunately, only one man had ever emerged from the ruins of Valyria in all these years: Euron Greyjoy.
Though the treasure he brought back was somewhat meager, he hadn't returned empty-handed. The key was that the *Silence* was a narrow longship, not a cargo vessel or a great ship; its storage space was relatively small. Euron had returned with a full load.
If Grolai's *Seadra* could safely return from the ruins of Valyria, the treasure it brought back could buy the entire city of Astapor, or even Slaver's Bay.
The sea chart was certainly worth a fortune, but the Good Master hoped Euron, an experienced sailor, could act as their guide. To be honest, if Euron had been more honest and shown Daenerys even a shred of loyalty, she would have wanted to keep him.
But if an experienced guide wasn't honest and deliberately led you into a trap, the damage would be far greater than if a novice tried to find their way alone.
Daenerys didn't trust Euron in the slightest, so she reluctantly abandoned the idea of letting him guide them.
"I promised to set Euron and his crew free as soon as we return to land," she said, nodding as she looked at the grinning Crow's Eye. "Once we pass through the gates of Astapor, you can go wherever you like. But I still suggest you travel with me. This is Slaver's Bay, and you have warrants from dozens of city-states on your head. Don't get caught and sold into slavery."
"I know," Euron said casually. "But I crave true freedom."
"Then have it your way."
Grazdan smiled in satisfaction at their exchange. At his signal, his "old friend" Kraznys hurried down the stairs to Daenerys's side. He held a whip aloft and announced loudly, "The Good Master says, *Deal!*"
"Deal!" Grazdan echoed from the top of the stairs, his pearl tassels swaying.
"Deal!"
"Deal!"
Eight Good Masters, eight shouts of "Deal!" Every Unsullied and every Ghiscari bystander saw and heard them all.
"Deal!" Daenerys nodded, then waved her hand behind her. The horsemen who had been standing behind the treasure and crates of seafood stepped back in turn.
Then, she took the whip named the "Harpy's Finger" from Kraznys's hand.
The 30cm-long handle, carved from black dragonbone, was inlaid with gold at both ends. One end was a golden sphere of a woman's head, her mouth filled with sharp ivory teeth. The other end was connected to eight long, thin leather straps, each ending in a gilded eagle's claw.
It felt slightly heavy in her hand, but its significance was even heavier—it represented control over 13,600 Unsullied.
It was like a property deed.
While Kraznys was urgently flipping through the sea chart, Daenerys climbed onto her little silver horse, stood on the stirrups, and raised the "Harpy's Finger" above her head, silently circling the square.
Finally, she deliberately shouted in clumsy, newly-learned Valyrian: "You now belong to me, the Mother of Dragons. All of you, five per row, follow me to a new world, to a new future."
Daenerys led the way, followed by the Unsullied marching in neat ranks of five. The long column stretched back three or four kilometers.
After a cursory glance at the sea chart, Kraznys sneered at Euron, who stood beside him. "The bitch must have practiced those few words all night. She spoke them well enough for the eunuchs to understand."
Euron opened his mouth, tempted to say, "She's a true descendant of Valyria, and she's lived in the Free Cities of the West for over a decade. Why would you think she doesn't speak Valyrian?"
But nearby, Whitebeard was holding a large box and watching him with a predatory gaze. Crow's Eye rubbed his nose and lowered his voice. "Interested in a deal?"
"That is precisely what I seek!" A sharp glint flashed in Kraznys's eyes.
"Then we'll see each other again." Crow's Eye's blue right eye held a friendly, gentle smile, one that was utterly convincing.
"Euron, your crew is waiting outside the city gates. Hurry along," the old man said coldly.
Euron nodded, swung onto his horse, and galloped away.
Whitebeard turned back to the slave trader. "Queen Daenerys has asked me to deliver a gift to the Lord Benefactor."
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