Daenerys frowned. "My followers are not slaves. From this moment on, do not call me 'Master,' and you need not refer to yourself as 'this humble servant.'"
Missandei glanced at her with a trace of fear and asked softly, "Then what should this humble servant call you, Master?"
"You may refer to yourself as 'I,' and call me 'Khaleesi' or 'Princess,'" Daenerys corrected.
"This humble servant understands, Khaleesi," Missandei said, glancing doubtfully at the long line of Unsullied. "Are they not slaves?"
"They won't be for long." Daenerys sighed, no longer correcting her use of "this humble servant." "Are the Unsullied very obedient?"
"In truth, the Good Masters taught them only two things: martial skill and obedience. If you forbid them from breathing, they will find that easier than disobeying an order."
"What if I ordered them to be free?" Daenerys asked.
"That..." Missandei hesitated. "No one has ever given the Unsullied their freedom. I do not know what they would do. Perhaps they would be bewildered, and then they would do whatever you say."
Whitebeard interjected, "Westeros forbids the sale of slaves. If the Queen reclaims the Throne and orders them to commit suicide, would they obey that as well?"
"Yes," Missandei's eyes dimmed as she spoke softly. "But the Unsullied are very valuable. When they are no longer useful, they can be sold."
"Hahaha, don't worry, Whitebeard was just joking! I told you, my subordinates are not slaves. They will all become free people." Daenerys comforted the little girl, then asked curiously, "You really don't want them to commit suicide. Do you have friends among them?"
*Could she actually be involved with Grey Worm?*
*But she's only ten!*
"No, I don't... This servant doesn't have any Unsullied friends," the little girl said with difficulty.
"Could it be that your own family members became Unsullied?" Jorah asked in surprise.
"Y-yes," Missandei lowered her gaze and said softly, "This servant has three brothers who became Unsullied, Ser."
"But you're only ten, and the Unsullied training takes ten years," Daenerys said, confused.
"This servant was sold to Astapor with my brothers when I was only one or two years old. Originally there were five of us, but only two completed the Unsullied training. This servant had some talent for languages and became a scribe for the Good Masters," Missandei said sorrowfully.
Daenerys leaned in with immense sympathy, stroking the girl's small head and asking gently, "Do you still remember your homeland, the island of Naath?"
"When I was three, a brother told me about an island so beautiful it was like paradise. After he died, no one ever spoke of it to me again. Now, all I remember is that Nassos has so many, many beautiful butterflies," Missandei murmured, her golden eyes filled with both confusion and grief.
*Slap!* Daenerys struck the saddle, announcing, "Missandei, you and your brother are both free. Tomorrow—no, in a few days—I will arrange a ship to take you back to Nassos, to your homeland. You can see for yourself how beautiful the butterflies are there, and see the paradise your brother once described."
But instead of cheering with joy, the girl's face filled with terror. She stammered, "I... I must stay. I must stay and serve you, Your Grace."
"I—" Daenerys saw the fear in Missandei's eyes, and the words she was about to speak died in her throat.
*I will send you home!* she vowed silently, but said no more. The young girl had been broken by slave masters for so many years; she had likely endured countless similar "tests."
"This girl's story is so much like mine," Daenerys sighed, turning to Whitebeard and Jorah. "We were both born on islands, lost our parents as children, wandered into foreign lands, and became slaves."
"You were never a slave," Whitebeard said, his brow furrowing.
"Heh." Daenerys glanced at Jorah and smiled. "Why don't you ask Ser Mormont if I was sold to the Khal by Illyrio and Viserys?"
Jorah's face flushed crimson, and he lowered his head in silence.
Technically, Daenerys *had* been a slave. Illyrio had brokered the deal, and Drogo had purchased the noble broodmare from Viserys in exchange for the Iron Throne—or twenty thousand Dothraki Screamers.
*Thud-thud-thud.*
The frantic pounding of hooves echoed from behind. The group turned to see Euron galloping toward them in a desperate hurry.
*Screeech!*
Euron yanked the reins hard. His horse reared up, neighing as it skidded to a halt by the roadside, kicking up a cloud of yellow dust that obscured everyone's vision.
"Your Majesty!" Euron shouted. "We're already five or six kilometers outside the city! Are you still not going to set me free?"
"I was wondering the same thing!" Daenerys frowned, waving her hand to clear the dust from her face. "Why are you still following my procession?"
Euron blinked, stunned. "I can leave? But what about my sailors? Didn't you promise to release them too?"
"Your pirate crew is still at the city gate," Whitebeard said. "Didn't you see them?"
"No?" Euron asked, confused. "I thought—"
"Ha, you took the wrong path," Jorah laughed. "We left Astapor through the main gate, but your crew is at the gate near the docks."
"Hahaha," Daenerys chuckled. "You followed us for over an hour, and you're only just realizing this?"
"You old bastard, how cunning!" Euron pointed at Whitebeard and cursed. "The man only said my men were outside the city gates."
Whitebeard stroked his long white beard and said helplessly, "We are traveling by land, heading north for a thousand miles into the Great Grass Sea. Aren't your men returning to Westeros by sea? Of course they'd be at the docks."
"You left the *Quiet Lady* behind?" Euron asked, his voice tinged with hope.
"In your dreams. The ship is mine now."
Grolai's three ships were all merchant vessels, but Euron's longship was a warship. Daenerys intended to keep it to secure naval dominance—how could she possibly return it to him?
"Then how am I supposed to get back to Westeros? Swim?" Euron sneered.
"Her Highness the Princess has left you 500 gold dragons," Whitebeard said. "You can use them to hire your sailors to man a ship. That's more than enough to get you back to the Seven Kingdoms in comfort."
Euron gave Daenerys a long, hard look, then turned his horse and rode away.
Daenerys surveyed their surroundings for a moment. "This is far enough," she said. "We'll make camp here today."
They had just left the city of Astapor. The roadsides were lined with fields of wheat, vegetables, and olive trees. But after an hour's ride, the main road began to be overgrown with weeds, the wheat fields vanished, and the landscape turned into a desolate wilderness.
Whether the Unsullied were truly the strongest army in the world remained to be seen, but their discipline and obedience were undoubtedly unmatched. At Daenerys's single command, it took only half an hour for them to transition from a marching column five abreast to a square formation of one hundred ranks on the grassy plain.
And this was an army three kilometers long!
Daenerys didn't need to shout orders to each individual soldier. She only had to convey her meaning to the first few dozen men, and the Unsullied would pass the command down the line themselves.
This confirmed to Daenerys that even among the Unsullied, there was a relatively complete military hierarchy.
In stark contrast to the Unsullied were the nearly one thousand Merman slaves. Their shackles had been removed, but the slave collars remained around their necks.
Daenerys decided to start with the Mermen who showed less submissiveness. She ordered the Merman slaves to form a 100x10 formation on the other side of the Unsullied army.
But the result was a complete mess. The centaurs' formation looked like a heap of mud.
With no other choice, she had them hold hands and form a circle around the Unsullied army—meaning over nine hundred centaurs now encircled the Unsullied ranks.
After another hour of struggling with this, Daenerys had over two hundred centaur cavalrymen disperse around the perimeter to prevent any stray caravans from accidentally wandering into their camp.
*Well, there were only sixty-odd Dragonhorses left. Later, Daenerys had Jorah buy over a hundred more in Apostta, so basically every adult male centaur got a horse.*
The women and children rode cheaper, gentler mules.
Riding slowly at the front of the Unsullied formation, Daenerys shouted to Quelo and the others on the perimeter: "Unshackle the true dragons!"
"Screech—" The three young dragons, confined for three or four days, tilted their heads back and let out a cry. Then, they kicked off with all their might, their wings—each the size of a cotton quilt—flapping vigorously. With a rushing sound of wind, they soared into the sky.
"Screech—"
"Screech—"
"Screech—"
The three young dragons, each the size of a small pony, circled above Daenerys's head. Under the midday sun, their shifting shadows flickered across the faces of the Unsullied and the centaur slaves.
The centaur slaves showed expressions of terror and awe. Even the granite-like faces of the Unsullied shifted with astonishment, awe, and curiosity.
"Big Black, listen to me. When I give the word, you and your siblings will breathe fire."
Daenerys mentally instructed the Black Dragon, telling him to get their entrance music ready—the Mother of Dragons was about to make a grand appearance.
Then, she picked up a tin megaphone from her saddle and shouted at the top of her lungs, her articulation crystal clear: "I am Daenerys Stormborn, heir to the House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons!"
As the final words, "Mother of Dragons," left her lips, Big Black immediately opened his maw and let out a deafening roar—"KAAAH—!"
Then, with a thunderous *BOOM*, he unleashed a stream of blood-red dragonfire seven or eight meters long.
"Hiss-KAAAH—BOOM!"
The White and Green Dragons followed suit, roaring and spewing fire.
The three vibrantly colored dragons, with their three billowing plumes of black smoke and flame, seemed to form a crown of fire above Daenerys's head.
Whether it was the Unsullied, the Centaur slaves, or even Whitebeard and his men who had only just joined the ranks, everyone present looked on in absolute shock.
After the entrance "special effects" concluded, Daenerys raised her hand. The three dragons ceased their roaring and fire-breathing. She spoke loudly into the megaphone: "My army will have no more slaves. Now, I can cut the slave collars from your necks, as long as you shout the words: 'I want freedom!'"
She repeated the words four times in Dothraki and four times in Valyrian.
*Well, a square formation has four sides.*
While she couldn't guarantee everyone heard her, at least 40% of them understood.
Next, Daenerys rode her small silver horse up to a Dothraki slave and asked loudly, "Slave, are you willing to continue being a slave, or do you wish to be a free horseman once again?"
"I..." The middle-aged Dothraki man was completely bewildered.
*I'm just a stupid, simple horseman. I've never dealt with this kind of trickery before! Khaleesi, give me a hint!*
Daenerys paid him no mind. Holding the megaphone, she shouted toward the Unsullied army, "Freedom must be won for oneself, even if it's just with a single, simple sentence."
"Now, slave, if you wish to remain a slave, I will send you back to Astapor. Shout 'I want freedom,' join my KLS, and fight for the Mother of Dragons."
The megaphone's voice boomed in the Dothraki man's ear, nearly scaring him out of his wits.
But the Khaleesi's hint was so obvious—he definitely didn't want to go back to Astapor. *Very well, I'll do whatever she says! After all, I'm a slave; I must obey my mistress, the Khaleesi.*
"I want freedom!" he roared, his face contorted.
"You are free," Daenerys declared loudly.
*Clang!* Ago and Hago unlocked the bronze collar from his neck.
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(End of Chapter)