Chapter 35: A Business Proposal

Year 291 After Aegon’s Conquest.

Essos. Slaver’s Bay. Outskirts of Yunkai.

A humid western wind carried the scent of seawater and a welcome chill, much needed on such a sweltering day. Although the sun was already dipping below the horizon, the earth, baked throughout the day, radiated its heat outward, creating a constant urge to reach for a waterskin or, better yet, retreat into the shade.

Taking another pull from my flask of now-cooled tea, I let my gaze wander once more across the fortifications of the city sprawling before me. Yunkai was smaller than Astapor, though not by much. According to reports from Veela’s spies, who had managed to buy copies of the census from the city magistrate, roughly two hundred and thirty thousand slaves and forty-seven thousand free citizens lived here. Three hundred thousand souls at minimum, if one accounted for the various traders, sellswords, and slave caravans that never lingered long in Yunkai, only to be replaced by new arrivals.

It was a large city, enormous by medieval standards. Perched upon a hill, Yunkai shielded itself from enemies behind thick yellow walls a good dozen meters high. The titanic towers of the ancient city made even Willem Darry, who had seen mightier citadels, grimace. Add the simple fact that the city sat upon a hill, and you had a nearly impregnable fortress.

Yesterday, when the army first reached the walls, a youth accompanied by ten Unsullied had ridden out to meet us without fear. Rodgaaz, the son of one of the traitors we had recruited, reported that the city garrison had about six thousand fighters at its disposal. This force comprised survivors from the broken armies of Yunkai and Meereen, as well as the Unsullied left behind to guard the aristocrats' peace. Considering the Wise Masters of Yunkai could easily call up a militia from the free citizens, the city had no shortage of defenders.

The complication was rather unpleasant. The dragon could burn the fighters on the walls near the gates and melt the gates themselves, but urban combat... it could easily grind down a good quarter of my troops. However, there was a silver lining: no one had expected my forces to achieve victory over such a numerically superior foe, so the citizens' food stores were meager. Furthermore, the militia could only be drawn from free citizens, as nearly all able-bodied slaves had been slaughtered at the Horns of Hazzat. It was an ironic stalemate. I needed to take Yunkai quickly to march on Meereen before the enemy could muster a new army; the aristocrats needed to break the siege or at least the naval blockade to prevent a hunger riot within the city.

"They are coming," Darry’s raspy voice pulled me from my thoughts.

Indeed, the city gates finally swung open and a cavalcade of twelve riders emerged. For the coming negotiations, I had brought only my mentor and nine Praetorians. Liao Fen was disguised as the tenth man, a bit of magical support should the talks take a more aggressive turn.

Less than ten minutes passed before the high contracting parties met at an equal distance from the city walls and my army’s camp.

A middle-aged man on a magnificent horse with ornate bionics and tack rode forward. He possessed the typical Ghiscari appearance: dark red, almost amber hair, bright emerald eyes, a neat short beard, and dusky skin. The negotiator was dressed in light silk garments of a golden hue and wore numerous ornaments of precious metal. Yet, his belt held only a short dagger with a hilt so encrusted with rubies that it was clearly a piece of jewelry like his rings and necklace, having nothing to do with a combat weapon.

His companion, staying slightly behind, differed only in having longer hair, a lack of a beard, and less luxurious clothing. To my surprise, the envoys' security was provided not by Unsullied, but by warriors in richly gilded plate armor, clutching long spears.

"I have heard of one very wealthy family from Yunkai whose members do not use Unsullied, but instead raise their own guard from the sturdiest boys they buy at the slave market," Willem said quietly.

Noting that the envoys had halted, Darry announced my title in a loud, commanding voice:

"Before you stands Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, and Head of the Noble House Targaryen."

I gave a quiet snort at the bewildered faces of the envoys. In Essos, they are extremely fastidious about titles, monikers, and other such formalities; the Ghiscari had expected a monologue lasting at least five minutes, and here they were met with such brevity. I had no desire to drag out the negotiations longer than necessary; more than anything, I longed to be in the shade of my pavilion in the company of my loyal commanders and a few jars of wine currently cooling at the bottom of the river, tied by their necks to ropes.

"Ahem," the main envoy’s attendant coughed, overcoming his confusion to deliver a prepared speech, though he clearly shortened it as much as possible:

"We welcome Viserys Targaryen to the walls of the great free city of Yunkai! It is an honor for us to see you. May the years of your life be long, and may your reign be wise and just, bringing only peace and wealth to the lands of New Valyria! Before you stands Allozzo mo Goriaz, heir to the Great House of Goriaz. His mouth is the mouth of the Wise Masters; his deeds are the will of the Lords of Yunkai!"

"Head."

"What?" the attendant asked, slightly lost.

"Head of House Goriaz. Your elder brother did not survive the recent battle," I said, ignoring the herald and looking directly into the envoy’s emerald eyes.

He answered with a keen, attentive gaze. Finding something in my expression, he gave a faint smile and a slight nod of the head.

"My brother did not shame the honor of our House; he died fighting for his city. Was he buried with dignity?"

"The deceased was granted all due honors," I replied, without even lying, for the nobles had indeed been buried separately from the rest.

In these times, my own knights and vassals would not have understood if aristocrats were buried alongside slaves and mercenaries.

"My thanks," the envoy said with a short bow before getting down to business. "The Wise Masters of Yunkai have chosen me as the envoy to speak with Your Majesty. We all wish to know the size of the ransom the city must pay for the rash actions of certain Masters. The heads of those scoundrels who supported the dishonorable Meereenese will also be delivered to you."

I merely smirked at this move. The Yunkai’i had decided to get off cheaply by putting a few houses to the knife. Convenient. They found a scapegoat and the gold for indemnity. I was certain part of the deceased Masters' wealth had already found its way into the pockets of the aristocrats who had butchered them. And as for the fact that the army was far too large for Meereen and a mere couple of "scoundrels" from Yunkai... who cared? Everyone understood the reality. This allowed the Yunkai’I, who were, en masse, supposedly uninvolved, to save face, as did I. After all, did I receive a ransom? I did. And that would be that. However, the "Wise" Masters had failed to account for one detail... I intended to take the entire city.

"Unfortunately, that is impossible," I said, shaking my head ruefully. "I need all of Yunkai. Open the gates and surrender the city, and I give my word that all Masters will receive a worthy place in the Empire. I will not execute anyone or send anyone into exile, for you have already slain all the culprits." At this point, a crooked smile crawled onto my face of its own accord.

"That is impossible," the envoy stated, his voice quiet but sharp.

"And why is that?" I asked with feigned surprise. "Yunkai is a wealthy city, I do not deny it. But the Masters can improve their prosperity even further. Inside the Empire, there are far fewer taxes, and those that exist are small and just. You will be able to trade in the internal lands of the state without paying duties to every city, only a single fee to the Valyrian treasury. Yes, you will have to relinquish certain rights and lands, but truly, the benefits are far greater. No religious persecution, no need for constant skirmishes between Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen, and New Ghis. The city will breathe easy, for legions and dragons will stand guard over the Empire's lands; the Dothraki threat will be liquidated. And if we drive the nomads from the Empire’s borders, we can consider the conquest of Lhazar. Rich and vast lands that have remained unconquered only because of the filthy savages who copulate with their favorite horses. Lhazar will bring much gold and food to both the Empire and the aristocracy that participates in the conquest."

My words clearly appealed to the new head of House Goriaz. The prospects were indeed very good, and considering the young man was well aware of the favorable position of the former Masters of Astapor and the reforms I was implementing... he clearly wouldn't mind a slice of the "Lhazarite pie."

Glancing at my army's camp, which outnumbered the defenders of Yunkai several times over, and at Avero who was currently soaring in the sky, the envoy bowed and replied:

"I will relay your words, Your Majesty, to all interested parties. Until we meet again."

"Until then," I nodded in response, turned my horse, and galloped toward the camp. When I finally reached my pavilion and could take a sip of cool wine, Willem, sitting in the neighboring chair, asked:

"Do you truly expect these pompous Ghiscari to surrender the city?"

"I don't know. Maybe they will, maybe they won't," I answered honestly, expanding my thought. "The offer is very good, and most importantly, it is entirely realistic. I can deliver on everything I proposed. The question is, will the Wise Masters be willing to bow their heads and swear fealty to me, relinquishing their independence?"

"Well, I would," Willem said, thoughtfully swirling the wine in his cup. "They don't have a King; they're essentially just lords. Constantly quarreling among themselves, making and breaking alliances. In short, there is no order. It’s like a Small Council, only larger and without a Hand or a King. It sounds good—will, freedom, and so on. But they pay taxes into their common treasury, and large ones at that, yet there is no order among them. I think some will definitely decide to cross over to your side, if only for the money and new opportunities. And you shouldn't downplay the significance of your army and dragon. These Ghiscari don't actually know how painfully you react to losses among your troops. If they were in your place, they would certainly throw all the legions into the assault, regardless of casualties. And what casualties? At most, we’d lose a fifth of the army. The remainder would be more than enough to conquer Meereen and control the Empire's lands. Then, in time, we would restore what was lost."

"Fleet, roads, army, improved fortifications, building academies, schools, infirmaries, Veela’s spy network, purchasing horses and equipment for the troops, salaries for hundreds of officials, and so on. Willem, we’ll become the absolute poorest of beggars if we spend legionaries like that as well! You know perfectly well that even a private costs the treasury quite a bit. To train, feed, clothe, shoe, and equip. No, I remember well that a legionary pays for his armor and weapons with a portion of his wages, but in the moment, the costs fall as a heavy burden on my purse!"

"Of course I know what everything costs; I am the Commander-in-Chief, if you haven’t forgotten," Darry snorted, brushing wine droplets from his luxurious beard. "But the legionaries bring in far more. The gold we took in Astapor will last another five years, even with your mad reforms and spending on officials and academies and infirmaries. Yunkai and Meereen are no poorer. And according to the calculations of those same officials and your own, upon the conquest of the entire Slaver’s Bay, control over trade routes coupled with taxes that don't stifle merchants will pull us into self-sufficiency. As for the lives of legionaries, such is our warrior's fate. To die."

I only grimaced at his words. My mind understood all of Darry’s arguments, but even after so many years in this cruel world, I found it difficult to send men to their deaths. Very few knew this. Darry, Daemon, and Veela. And even then, the latter two had somehow figured it out themselves after spending so much time with me.

"We will wait for the decision of the Yunkai aristocrats," I decided, postponing the unpleasant conversation and hurrying to change the subject. "How are the former Golden Company men settling in? Are their backs aching much from the lessons in discipline our officers are providing?"

******

Year 291 After Aegon’s Conquest.

Essos. Slaver’s Bay. Yunkai.

The stone hall, lined with red sandstone and featuring exactly thirty-six columns, was of a rather strange shape to which everyone had long since become accustomed. The architect had planned the meeting hall of the Wise Masters very effectively, if extravagantly. The room was a triangle; in one of its corners stood a marble pedestal with a comfortable lectern for parchment made of pink cedar. The speaker stood facing the audience gallery where the honorable rulers of Yunkai sat. The triangular shape of the hall allowed everything to be arranged so that any aristocrat could see the speaker perfectly and, due to the acoustics, hear them clearly.

There was only one flaw in the architect's design: the audience gallery, or rather, the seats upon it, were an eternal subject of dispute. Which of the Wise Masters would sit above whom, in which specific row... in short, in the last ten years, three heads of noble houses had died solely because of such arguments, which was why this convenient hall was rarely used, only on special occasions when it was necessary for everyone to gather and listen or discuss something.

"...on that note, the preliminary negotiations were concluded," the young man finished his speech.

"Allozzo mo Goriaz, wait!" a shout stopped the young man. Standing right in the center of the hall, it was easy to identify the source of the cry, and the new head of House Goriaz had no trouble locating a stout man sitting in the third row.

"Did you wish to clarify something, respected Rogazz mo Jozze?"

"Yes. Since you are already standing on the public pedestal, perhaps you might share your opinion? Certainly, such an important question requires a vote of the Wise Masters, and since you are now the new head of House Goriaz by the grace of the Harpy..." the fat man spread his hands and mimicked a benevolent smile, flashing two gold teeth.

"Does the Council have any objections?" Allozzo inquired, inwardly smirking. His uncle had planned this well. Rogazz, being the brother of the young head's mother, was an undisputed ally of House Goriaz and, even in such a difficult situation, looked out for his allies. The Wise Masters, too busy with the new information, didn't care, so no one was against it. This meant Allozzo was now the Moderator of the Council. It wouldn't add an extra vote to the gathering, but your word was always first, and you decided who spoke next. It didn't seem like much, and you'd have to fill out many sheets of parchment and handle other reporting, but you could slightly adjust the course of the meeting and, consequently, the Council's opinion on a given issue in a direction more favorable to you and your allies.

"Very well. I, like everyone gathered here, am fully aware of the threat looming over us. The army is broken. Military spirit is in decline; there is enough food for three months of siege at most. Even if Viserys Targaryen simply sits beneath the walls of Yunkai and begins to drink wine with his commanders and troops, we will last six months, and that is only if we drastically cut food consumption and fish in the river. We are cut off from the entire world, by both sea and land." Pausing for a moment, the Ghiscari took a sip from a small silver flask of wine and continued: "That is if the Valyrian sits still. And he will not, I am sure of it. A man with his fame and reputation does not have the character to wait. He will lead his legions to the assault and take Yunkai easily! I believe your men have already reported to you, respected Lords, that the city has not yet been surrendered only thanks to the fearless and loyal Unsullied. If it weren't for these eunuchs, stripped of fear along with their stones, the mercenaries and the remains of the militia would have opened the gates already. Their spirit is far too suppressed after the rout at the Horns of Hazzat. But the Unsullied are too few; they will simply be swept away by the legionaries and burned by the dragon, while the other 'warriors' flee in terror."

"And what do you propose, Honorable One?" a pale, gaunt old man sitting in the fifth row inquired politely.

At such a respectful address, Allozzo smiled broadly on the inside, though he maintained a mask of icy calm on his face. Ha! It seemed this old goat was no longer so arrogant and haughty. All it took was losing his heir, who had lost the battle to the young Blood Dragon. Yes, it seemed this old fox would soon be knocked off his pedestal as one of the most powerful Masters. Oh, he would be reminded of his calls for an immediate march against the "filthy Valyrian," and of his disgraced son whom he had pushed into commanding the host. In fact, they had already started "sinking" this pompous ruin, as it was his vassals who were initially chosen as the scapegoats. No matter, you old crocodile; rest assured that no matter how this story ends, the head of House Goriaz will yet piss on your grave!

"My proposal is quite simple. We must carefully discuss the offer of Viserys Targaryen. Since your son could not defeat the Targaryen army and only pointlessly wasted such an expensive host, we must find a way out of the delicate position in which we have all been placed by certain Wise Masters who wished to show a certain Valyrian 'his place'," the young man replied, his every word dripping with venom. At his speech, the old man turned even paler, as did several allies sitting near him. The gazes of the Wise Masters from other factions boded nothing good for the alliance that had cornered the market on sex slaves. Such is competition. Trip once, and you are unlikely to ever rise again.