Chapter 32:
Essos Continent, Meereen.
This ancient slave city-state was currently shrouded in anxiety and bloodshed.
Although Daenerys Targaryen had broken the chains and freed the slaves, "breaking" did not equal "building."
The economy had collapsed, plagues ran rampant, and the mysterious "Sons of the Harpy" carried out frenzied assassinations of Unsullied soldiers in dark alleys. The young "Mother of Dragons" was trapped in the pyramid she had conquered, exhausted and overwhelmed.
On the terrace at the top of the Great Pyramid.
Daenerys, dressed in white, gazed at the chaotic city below, her brows tightly furrowed.
"Your Grace," Ser Barristan Selmy walked over with deep concern, "the slave masters of Yunkai and Astapor are gathering a coalition army. They have blockaded the sea routes, and Meereen's food supplies won't last much longer."
"Then let the dragons burn them!" Daario Naharis (Captain of the Second Sons) played with his dagger, his face full of hostility.
"The dragons…" Daenerys closed her eyes in pain.
Drogon had flown away, and Rhaegal and Viserion were locked in the dungeon because they were too dangerous.
She was now in the awkward situation of having dragons but not daring to use them.
At that moment, an Unsullied soldier ran up quickly to report:
"Your Grace! From the harbor direction… a fleet has arrived!"
"Are they the slave masters' warships?"
"No… they fly a flag we have never seen before. Black background, golden lion, and… a sword."
…
Half an hour later, in the audience hall of the Great Pyramid.
Daenerys sat on the high throne, with Barristan, Grey Worm, and Missandei standing beside her.
The great doors opened.
No fully armed army charged in.
Only a short man with a limp, dressed in an elegant black velvet doublet and holding a cup of wine, walked in unhurriedly.
Behind him followed several attendants carrying large boxes.
"Lannister?"
Ser Barristan recognized the man at a glance, his hand instantly moving to his sword hilt. "Your Grace, be careful! He is Tywin's son, from the family that betrayed your father!"
"Correction, Ser Barristan."
Tyrion Lannister stopped at the foot of the throne steps, gave an elegant bow, and wore that annoying yet charming mocking smile.
"I am the son Tywin hated the most, and the one who personally sent him to the privy… oh, I mean, to heaven. Currently, I am the Chief Diplomat of the Pompey-Braavos Royal Trading Company, and the personal envoy of Duke Victor Pompey."
"Victor Pompey?" Daenerys frowned. "The man who supposedly sidelined the false king in Westeros and now holds immense power at court?"
"The very same."
Tyrion took a sip of wine. "My boss asked me to deliver a message to you."
"What did he say?"
Tyrion cleared his throat and imitated Victor's domineering yet calm tone:
"Queen, you are an excellent conqueror, but a terrible ruler."
"Playing this childish game in Meereen is not only wasting your time, but also wasting the talent of your dragons."
"How dare you!" Grey Worm raised his spear.
Daenerys raised her hand to stop him. Though the words were harsh, they struck her heart like needles. Because they were true.
"Continue," she said coldly, staring at Tyrion.
"Lord Pompey understands your current predicament."
Tyrion pointed at the boxes behind him.
"No food? Slave masters blockading trade? The Sons of the Harpy that can't be killed?"
"None of these are problems in his eyes."
"Open them."
Clang!
The first box opened.
Inside were not gold, silver, or jewels, but bags of gray-white powder and several barrels of liquid with a strange smell.
"What is this?" Daario asked with disgust.
"This is the 'God of Harvest' (fertilizer) and 'Wall-building Mud' (cement)."
Tyrion explained, "Sprinkle the contents of these bags into the soil, and even Meereen's barren land can produce twice as much wheat. And that mud can repair breached city walls in three days, harder than stone."
"With these, you no longer need to rely on the slave masters' trade. You can become self-sufficient."
A flash of surprise appeared in Daenerys' eyes. She didn't understand the principle, but she knew what it meant — a foundation.
Clang!
The second box opened.
Inside were thick stacks of sheepskin paper and a set of precision printing templates.
"This is the draft of the 'Meereen Legal Code' and basic printing technology."
Tyrion took out a sheet of paper. "My boss says that to eliminate the Sons of the Harpy, killing alone is not enough. You need to establish the rule of law, control public opinion, and let the common people know why you are better than the slave masters."
"With this, you can plaster notices across the entire city overnight."
Daenerys stood up.
Every one of these items struck exactly at her pain points. That man, Victor Pompey, thousands of miles away, seemed to have eyes that could see through her difficulties.
"Why does he want to help me?"
Daenerys asked warily, "What does he want? If he wants the Iron Throne…"
"The Iron Throne?" Tyrion laughed. "That uncomfortable chair hurts the ass. Lord Pompey has no interest in chairs. He is more interested in the person sitting on the chair…"
Tyrion clapped his hands.
The attendants brought forward the third box.
This box was small, made of obsidian, and emitted a warm aura.
"This is a gift for your children."
Tyrion smiled mysteriously. "I heard your dragons have been in a bad mood lately? That's because they are hungry and lacking… trace elements."
The box opened.
Inside were several translucent red crystals that emitted a strong sulfur smell and a certain magical fluctuation.
[System Product: High-Energy Fire Element Crystals (Dragon Special Edition).]
The moment the box opened.
From deep in the dungeon came two excited dragon roars!
Even Drogon, who was wandering somewhere unknown, seemed to respond with a cry from the sky!
It was the dragons' instinctive desire for this "top-tier delicacy."
"This will allow the dragons to grow rapidly and…"
Tyrion lowered his voice, "…make them more obedient."
"This is Lord Pompey's betrothal gift."
Tyrion looked into Daenerys' purple eyes and said seriously.
"Betrothal gift?" Daenerys' cheeks flushed slightly, then turned into queenly dignity. "He wants to marry me? With these things he thinks he can make me bring my dragons and marry him?"
"No, Your Grace."
Tyrion shook his head.
"He said this is not a marriage proposal. This is a partnership."
"He has built order in the West. You possess power in the East. If you don't want to become the 'Queen of Ashes,' if you don't want Westeros to be destroyed in war…"
Tyrion took out the final letter from his bosom and handed it to Daenerys.
"…then please bring your dragons and come home."
"He has prepared a new world for you in King's Landing — one without slaves, without hunger, only prosperity."
"And… a true dance of dragons (meaning fighting the Others together)."
Daenerys took the letter.
There was no wax seal on the envelope, only a strange symbol — the intersection of a red star and a dragon.
She opened it. Inside was only one sentence, written in bold, powerful handwriting:
"The world is very big, Dany. Don't play in the sandbox for too long. I am waiting for you at the end of winter."
— V.P.
Daenerys looked at these words, and something long dormant in her heart was ignited.
It was not anger, nor ambition.
It was a resonance of being understood and expected.
"Tyrion Lannister."
Daenerys closed the letter, a beautiful smile appearing on her lips.
"You are hired."
"As my Hand… and as Lord Pompey's liaison."
"Tell your boss."
Daenerys looked toward the west, dragonfire burning in her eyes.
"Tell him to clean the house properly."
"We are coming home."
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