Ordinary Ghiscari—even free citizens entitled to wear one—only dressed in the cumbersome robe on important occasions. During daily life, they had to work and support their families.
Anyone who attacked the Unsullied could be killed immediately, even a child.
Daenerys had not forgotten that a nine-year-old girl had once killed a three-meter-tall bear in single combat with nothing but a short sword.
This was another world, not Earth. And even on Earth, children could become deadly with the right weapons.
As Daenerys entered Astapor, the Unsullied guarding the eastern gate marched into the city with her.
At Pride Plaza, she met with Jorah and Captain Groleo.
Jorah had commanded three thousand Unsullied in the assault on the eastern gate, while Groleo led six hundred Unsullied and several hundred sailors aboard four ships to blockade the harbor.
The naval blockade had only succeeded because of the dragons.
The first attack had come from the sea. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion swooped over the harbor, burning the sails and rigging of every ship docked there—whether they belonged to slave masters or innocent merchants.
Afterward, the white and green dragons circled overhead as a constant threat.
"Your Grace," Grey Worm reported alongside Jorah, "except for the Great Pyramid, all of Astapor is under our control."
"What are the casualties?" Daenerys asked.
Jorah answered,
"Thirty-some Unsullied were wounded. None were killed.
Over two thousand slaves died, along with more than six thousand Ghiscari.
Those aren't the final numbers. We still don't know what's happening inside the pyramids."
Daenerys frowned.
"The Ghiscari were that weak?"
"There were only five hundred trained guards," Jorah explained. "The rest were unarmed civilians.
Besides the slavers in tokars... many of the dead were women and children."
He sighed.
"The slaves lost control. Many ordinary Ghiscari families were wiped out.
Of the two thousand dead slaves, fewer than five hundred fell in battle.
The Unsullied killed most of the rest while suppressing the chaos. The remainder died inside Ghiscari homes."
"We did everything we could, Princess," Ser Barristan said gently.
Jorah nodded.
"Ser Barristan is right. Fifteen years ago, Tywin Lannister caused ten times more destruction when King's Landing fell."
"I understand."
Daenerys simply nodded and began issuing orders.
"Grey Worm, the Unsullied performed excellently."
"Thank you for your praise."
The usually expressionless commander couldn't help showing a trace of happiness.
"Now gather every slave who fought in the uprising and bring them to Punishment Plaza.
Split your remaining men into two groups.
Three thousand Unsullied, organized into squads of fifty, will patrol the city.
The other two thousand will collect the bodies.
Bring the dead slaves here. I will personally oversee a mass cremation.
Pile the Ghiscari dead in Pride Plaza. Allow their families to reclaim them and bury them according to Ghiscari custom—but every corpse must be registered."
"As you command."
Grey Worm departed immediately.
Turning to Jorah, Daenerys continued,
"Keep your three thousand Unsullied surrounding the Great Pyramid. Do not attack."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Groleo, continue commanding the six hundred Unsullied at the harbor.
Determine which ships belong to slavers and which belong to foreign merchants.
Then inspect the merchants' cargo and sort everything—ordinary goods, luxury items... slaves..."
Groleo hesitated.
"Your Grace... inspecting merchants' cargo violates every rule.
Astapor is a free port. There are no customs inspections or tariffs."
Daenerys looked at him.
"My dragons burned their ships, didn't they?"
"Every vessel in the harbor lost its sails and rigging."
"Exactly."
She shrugged matter-of-factly.
"If I don't know what they were carrying, how can I compensate them for their losses?"
Realization dawned on the old sailor.
"Ah... so Your Grace intends to compensate the innocent merchants."
His respect for her deepened.
Once everything had been arranged, Daenerys turned toward the towering Great Pyramid of Grazdan.
"We must capture this pyramid within two days."
The pyramid was not merely the Good Master's residence.
It also served as Astapor's primary warehouse.
Nearly eighty percent of the city's grain reserves were stored inside.
Just then, an elderly white-haired man in elegant robes emerged from the first level.
"Please don't kill me! I'm not Ghiscari! I'm a slave too!"
He raised both hands while repeating the plea in both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian.
The Unsullied stepped aside, allowing Daenerys to ride forward on her silver mare.
"Who do you represent?" she asked in Valyrian.
The old man immediately knelt.
"My name is Ethan.
I am a scholar formerly employed by Good Master Grazdan.
I now represent Lord Cleon in negotiations with the Mother of Dragons."
"Rise, Ethan."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The old man rose with elegant, practiced movements.
Even the way he bowed carried refinement.
Clearly, he really was a learned man.
Daenerys asked curiously,
"Is Cleon Grazdan's son?"
"No.
Cleon is Astapor's finest butcher.
He also served the Good Master."
"...A butcher?"
Daenerys nearly dropped her jaw.
Jorah stepped forward coldly.
"If Cleon is also a slave, what gives him the right to negotiate with the Mother of Dragons?
Is he bargaining over whether he should remain a slave?"
"N-no..."
The scholar hesitated.
"Lord Cleon simply wishes to know...
If he captures the Good Master's pyramid...
...what reward will he receive?
Even no reward would be acceptable.
But although he is technically a slave, he has Ghiscari blood.
His wife and three daughters are also Ghiscari..."
Daenerys pointed toward an Unsullied soldier.
"See him?
He's Ghiscari too.
I oppose slavery—not the Ghiscari people."
"Oh..."
The scholar nodded.
"So?
Anything else?" Daenerys asked.
"I guarantee Cleon and his family's safety."
The old man blinked.
"...No reward?"
Daenerys rubbed her nose helplessly.
"Honestly, if he truly captures the pyramid, he deserves a reward.
The problem is...
I don't even know what reward to give him.
Tell him to come speak with me himself.
No matter what happens, I promise he won't be harmed."
"...Very well."
The scholar returned to the pyramid.
"Cleon's an opportunist," Jorah muttered with obvious disdain.
"Or perhaps," Daenerys replied,
"he's someone with real talent."
While they spoke, the Unsullied gradually escorted the slave rebels from every corner of the city.
Men and women alike, mostly young.
Leather or bronze slave collars still circled their necks.
Many still wore shackles around their ankles.
Their coarse linen clothes were soaked with sweat beneath the blazing afternoon sun.
Despite their miserable appearance, the moment they saw Daenerys atop her silver mare, they erupted into cheers.
"Mother of Dragons!"
"Long live the Mother of Dragons!"
A few voices even cried,
"Mhysa!"
Daenerys smiled and waved.
"Wait a little longer. We're still gathering everyone."
Whether or not they heard her clearly hardly mattered.
Her response alone sent the crowd into even louder celebration.
"Your Grace," Jorah said quietly,
"They're coming."
Daenerys turned.
A long line of slaves emerged from the pyramid.
Unlike the rebels, these household servants wore collars but no leg irons.
Some were muscular laborers.
Others wore expensive clothing and had well-maintained skin.
A group of beautifully dressed young attendants carried the scent of perfume.
Among the maids, Daenerys even recognized several women who had served her previously.
Finally, the last man emerged.
He had black-and-red shoulder-length hair, dark skin, and a rough appearance unlike a pure Ghiscari.
He stood barely five foot seven, but was nearly as wide as he was tall.
His arms were thicker than Daenerys's waist.
A flattened nose, fleshy face, and coarse black nose hairs completed his intimidating appearance.
Yet his small eyes were sharp and intelligent.
Daenerys looked over the assembled servants.
Nearly two thousand of them.
Two thousand servants serving a single family.
The luxury was astonishing.
The butcher caught sight of Daenerys in her ornate half-plate armor.
Open admiration flashed across his face.
He hurried forward, dropped to one knee with an awkward imitation of a Westerosi knight's salute, and declared,
"This humble servant, Cleon, greets Queen Daenerys.
You are more beautiful than the moon above and more heroic than Nymeria herself."
Daenerys blinked.
"You know who Nymeria is?"
Nearly two thousand years earlier, Princess Nymeria of the Rhoynar had led her people across the seas after Valyria destroyed their homeland.
She eventually settled in Dorne and became one of the greatest legendary rulers in Westerosi history.
She remained one of the Seven Kingdoms' most celebrated heroines.
Someone with Cleon's background shouldn't have known that.
Cleon lowered his head respectfully.
"In Your Majesty's presence, I dare not lie.
To avoid embarrassing myself before you, I asked the scholar to teach me Westerosi customs."
Daenerys nodded.
"So.
You're an honest man."
The "honest" butcher seized the opportunity immediately.
"This humble servant has only two virtues."
He grinned broadly.
"Honesty...
...and courage."
-----------------------
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