Chapter 50:
Essos, Yunkai.
This city known as the "Yellow City," the center of the slave trade, was now shrouded in heat and unease.
At the top of a great pyramid, a secret "Restoration Council" was being held.
Every attendee was a wealthy and powerful figure:
The "Wise Masters" of Yunkai, the surviving "Good Masters" of Astapor, the "Great Masters" of Meereen, and even spice magnates from distant Qarth.
Although they wore silk and jewels, their faces were grim.
"That damned Victor Pompey!"
A fat Wise Master from Yunkai angrily smashed the wine cup in his hand.
"His 'Pompey Notes' are destroying our economy! His merchant ships refuse to transport slaves! Even worse… those leaflets of his!"
He pointed at a crumpled piece of paper on the table — a copy of the Declaration of Human Rights (Pompey Edition) that had been smuggled in by ship.
"My slaves read this and actually asked me what an 'eight-hour workday' is! What 'wages' are! Yesterday, three hundred slaves revolted in my plantation!"
"If we don't kill him, if we don't destroy that so-called 'Federation,'"
Another Good Master from Astapor said sinisterly, "the institution of slavery will perish. We will have nothing left."
"But he has dragons, flying iron ships, and sorcery that summons lightning."
A Qartheen merchant worried, "How do we fight him?"
"With this."
From the shadows, two figures emerged.
The first wore Braavosi clothing and carried a heavy black iron box.
A Faceless Man.
"As long as you pay, the gods can take anyone." The Faceless Man said coldly. "Even if he hides inside a steel airship."
The second figure was even more eerie.
She was completely wrapped in a red lacquered wooden mask and robes. The air around her seemed distorted and cold because of her presence.
Quaithe, a shadowbinder from Asshai.
"Victor Pompey is not only the enemy of the slave masters — he is the enemy of magic."
A hoarse voice came from beneath the mask. "The Lord of Light does not like his machines. The shadows will devour his flames."
"And this."
A secret envoy wearing the gray robes of an Oldtown maester opened the black iron box.
Inside were dozens of vials of gray potion that shimmered with a metallic sheen.
"This is Titan's Blood (an upgraded version of the steel-skin potion)."
The maester explained, "Once your pit fighters drink it, they will become invincible killing machines. Pompey's bullets will not pierce their skin."
The Wise Master of Yunkai looked at the vial with greed in his eyes.
"Excellent."
"I have one hundred thousand well-trained slave soldiers and three hundred war elephants."
"Combined with these divine potions and sorcerers…"
He stood up and raised his hands.
"I propose the formation of the Holy Alliance!"
"Objective: Counterattack Westeros! Hang Victor! Put a collar back on Daenerys!"
…
At the same time, King's Landing, Pompey Royal Armory (Workshop No. 0).
Victor was not sensing the malice from the east, because he was busy "upgrading the cheat".
The intelligence department (Varys and Arya) had already delivered detailed combat data on the "steel-skin" creatures.
"Conventional 9mm pistol rounds and 5.56mm rifle rounds are indeed a bit struggling against this kind of keratinized skin."
Victor looked at the "steel-skin corpse" sample that had been brought back.
The skin was as hard as rubber tires. Ordinary knives would only curl the blade.
"It seems we need to increase the caliber a bit."
Victor clapped his hands.
Several senior engineers behind him immediately wheeled out two new weapons covered with tarps.
Whoosh—!
The tarps were pulled away.
The first was a black steel behemoth mounted on a wheeled carriage, with a thick water-cooled barrel.
[Maxim Heavy Machine Gun · Westeros Modified Version.]
[Caliber: 12.7mm (large caliber).]
[Rate of Fire: 600 rounds per minute.]
[Ammunition: Tungsten-core armor-piercing rounds (specifically designed for steel-skin targets).]
"Since the skin is thick, we'll just smash it with kinetic energy."
Victor stroked the cold barrel. "I refuse to believe there is any creature in this world that can withstand a 12.7mm metal storm."
Then he walked to the second weapon.
It was a long, shoulder-fired green tube with an exaggerated streamlined warhead inserted at the front.
[RPG-7 Rocket-Propelled Grenade Launcher (Codename: Dragon Slayer).]
[Warhead: Tandem shaped-charge warhead.]
"I heard the Easterners like to play with elephants?"
Victor shouldered the RPG and looked through the sight at the distant shooting range.
"This thing is specifically designed to deal with all kinds of thick-skinned large targets. Whether it's an elephant, a giant, or some mutated monster."
"One shot, one kill."
Boom!
Although no live round was fired, Victor mimicked the sound of an explosion with his mouth.
At this moment, Daenerys pushed open the door and entered.
She looked at the two murderous new toys, a complicated look flashing in her eyes.
"Varys told me that Yunkai and Astapor have formed an alliance. They killed my envoys and even threatened to… drag me back and put a collar on me."
At the end, Daenerys's fingers tightly clutched the hem of her skirt. The Mother of Dragons' dignity had been provoked.
"They want to die."
Victor put down the RPG, walked over to Daenerys, and gently took her hand.
"Then we'll grant their wish."
"I am preparing to form the Overseas Expeditionary Force."
Victor looked into Daenerys's eyes.
"You will be the supreme commander. I will assign you two armored divisions, plus these two new toys."
"Take Drogon. Take the Unsullied."
"This time, it's not just about liberating slaves."
Victor pointed east.
"We will plant the Pompey banner on top of that so-called Great Pyramid."
"Tell those remnants of the old era…"
Victor patted the Maxim heavy machine gun beside him.
"The times have changed, my lords."
…
Three days later, Blackwater Bay.
An unprecedentedly massive fleet was assembling.
In addition to dozens of steam-powered ironclad warships, there were several newly launched "troop landing ships".
Huge cranes were loading Maxim heavy machine guns and crates of RPG ammunition onto the ships.
On the dock, tens of thousands of Federal soldiers (including Northerners, Riverlanders, and even defected Lannister troops) stood ready. They wore unified khaki combat uniforms, carried breech-loading rifles, and had marching packs on their backs.
Woo—!!!
The steam whistle sounded long and loud.
Daenerys stood on the deck of the flagship "Targaryen," her red cloak fluttering in the sea wind.
Above her head, the healed Drogon let out a world-shaking dragon roar.
"Set sail!"
"Destination: Slaver's Bay!"
A magitech industrial war spanning continents officially began.
When ancient magical sorcery collides with a steel reaper spinning at 600 rounds per minute, who will be the true nightmare?
The answer will be revealed in blood and fire.
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