Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The one inciting the Unsullied to rebel was none other than Daenerys' "old friend," Kraznys. He wasn't the first slave master of Astapor, which was why the black dragon hadn't made him its primary target.

After descending from the pyramid, he immediately rushed to the tower above the city gate, bringing with him eight old "Harpy's Fingers."

Hiding behind a shield, he held up a dragonbone whip and shouted loudly.

For decades, eight Good Masters had used their ancestral Harpy's Fingers to control the Unsullied. Each whip symbolized their supreme authority over the slaves.

Countless slaves had surrendered their unwavering loyalty under the crack of those whips.

But now...

Tap, tap, tap.

The only response to his calls—besides the fluttering of banners—was the crisp sound of hooves.

Silently, the Unsullied formation parted down the middle, creating a path. Daenerys, riding her silver mare, slowly advanced to the front of the army.

About thirty meters from the city gate, Whitebeard and Missandei followed behind her, while the burly Belwas held up a towering wooden shield, two meters tall and 1.4 meters wide, in front of her steed.

Today, Daenerys still wore her Dothraki braid, adorned with three small bells. According to Jhiqui and Irri, she had conquered 13,600 Unsullied just yesterday afternoon.

Perhaps, after today, another bell would be added?

However, instead of wearing a painted vest, she was clad in dazzling, ornate armor. A magnificent two-handed sword, its scabbard inlaid with seven-colored gemstones, hung at her waist.

The armor was intricately crafted, with glazed scales. A three-headed dragon was sculpted on her chest: a white dragon on the left, a green dragon on the right, and a black dragon in the center—all sharing a single blood-red body.

Over her shoulders draped a pure white cloak, long enough to cover her silver mare's hindquarters. The cloak, resembling the banner of the Unsullied, was embroidered with black outlines of a great dragon soaring through the sky.

Both the three-headed dragon armor and the gemstone sword were gifts from the blacksmith guild of Qarth.

When Daenerys had established her "Dragon Zoo," the weavers had gifted her fine silks and even sewn her qipaos.

The armor looked splendid but was far from practical—it wasn't even a full set. It lacked a visor, gorget, gauntlets, tassets, greaves, knee guards, and iron boots. In real combat, it was riddled with flaws.

But for today's occasion? It served its purpose well. Strikingly brilliant yet exuding a heroic presence, she stood with an air of unshakable authority.

"Kraznys, save your breath," Daenerys smiled at the desperate slave master, who was still waving his whip and shouting.

With a sharp shing, she drew her greatsword, pointing it toward the tower above the city gate.

"Soldiers! Tell the slave master—who are you?"

"We are free warriors of the True White Banner!" five thousand voices roared in unison, their shout surging like a tidal wave through the decayed city.

"Freedom!" Daenerys raised her sword high.

"Freedom! Freedom!"

Boom, boom, boom!

"Freedom! Freedom!"

The Unsullied struck their spears against the ground in rhythmic unison—three beats followed by two resounding cries of "Freedom!"

More than half of Astapor could hear them.

On the city walls, Kraznys' face turned ashen, his eyes filled with despair and disbelief.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The Unsullied weren't supposed to be swayed by anything—gold, women, freedom—nothing from the mortal world should have tempted them.

Was that whore possessed by the Seven Gods?

The Good Masters had trained them for over ten years, long enough to erase their individual wills.

"What do you want, woman?" Kraznys shouted from behind the wall.

"I want the slave masters to face judgment. I want Astapor to be free of slavery forever."

"Impossible! This is Slaver's Bay! Slavery has existed since the Harpies created the Ghiscari. Valyrian dragonlords need slaves! The Free Cities need slaves! Maritime trade needs slaves! As long as mankind exists, so will slavery!"

The slave master spoke as if proclaiming an absolute truth, his voice hoarse yet resolute.

Daenerys sneered. "Oh, you don't get to decide that anymore. Freedom is won with blood and fire. We are ready for that—are you?"

"Do you hear it?" She pointed toward the city, where flames were rising.

"Your slave kingdom is wailing. It is dying. And I haven't even sent my army in."

Daenerys' leaflets had filled the slave masters with dread—and the slaves with hope and courage.

The Unsullied's cries of "Freedom!" were like sparks igniting a fuse. Finally, someone had shattered the chains in their heart and risen up in rebellion.

With the black dragon scouting from above, Daenerys saw everything happening in the city as if it were laid out in the palm of her hand.

"You broke your word," Kraznys muttered fearfully, glancing at the slave warrior holding his shield. His chubby face twisted in panic, his voice trembling.

"How did I break my word?" Daenerys chuckled.

"We had an agreement—you would raid small towns and sell us the slaves."

Kraznys shouted toward the soldiers outside the city, then turned back and took a few steps backward. He gestured to the Ghiscari guards, pointing at his own slave soldier.

"His eyes look suspicious—seize him!"

"I…"

The slave warrior dropped to his knees, his face flushing red. He opened his mouth several times, but no words came out.

Because just moments ago, two thoughts had crossed his mind—thoughts he never should have had.

Should I kick this fat bastard off the wall?

Or should I pray for the Dragon Mother to send her dragons and burn these Ghiscari alive? If that happens, I won't stop her.

He was doomed.

Just like countless times before, his shrewd master had seen right through him.

He despaired.

"Stand up! Rise, all who refuse to be slaves!" Daenerys bellowed.

If possible, she would rather have five thousand Unsullied sing a grand chorus of La Marseillaise. Of course, the lyrics would need some modifications—no rebellion against Her Majesty the Queen's rule.

"I'll fight you to the death!" The slave warrior suddenly snapped out of his daze, as if he had been blessed by the Mother of Dragons with a war god's buff. Shielding himself with his bronze shield, he charged recklessly at the slave master without hesitation.

Kraznys recoiled in terror, shouting, "The slave soldiers are rebelling! Kill them!"

Dany rubbed her forehead, exasperated by his lack of intelligence.

As the Ghiscari guards moved to capture the rebellious slave, the other slaves had already stepped back. But the moment they heard the slave master's frantic order, their expressions changed drastically. They exchanged glances, and before anyone could say who started it, a voice rang out: "Long live the Mother of Dragons!"

In an instant, almost every slave soldier erupted in revolt.

The battle cries of "Long live the Mother of Dragons!" blended with the sounds of killing and wailing, echoing across the city walls.

"Your Highness, we can begin the assault," Ser Barristan said.

"To be honest, I had planned to besiege the city for two more days," Dany replied with a wry smile.

At the very least, they could have cut down some trees and built siege engines.

Giving a command to Drogon in her mind, she watched as the great black dragon plummeted from the sky in a sharp arc, soaring over the city gate tower.

"Boom!"

Several Ghiscari, engulfed in roaring flames, screamed as they leaped from the ten-meter-high tower. The wooden structures burst into thick, black smoke.

"A dragon! A true dragon! Long live the Mother of Dragons!"

The slaves erupted into cheers, and the already demoralized Ghiscari guards completely lost their will to fight. Some even threw down their weapons and fled toward the pyramids.

Seeing that the enemy archers were as sparse as hair on a bald man's head, and their bowstrings as limp as wet noodles, Dany commanded Drogon to land before the city gates. Strong Belwas and several Unsullied shield-bearers raised their shields to protect him.

"Boom—"

A jet of dragonfire, still trailing smoke, turned the iron plates reinforcing the city gate red-hot. Thick black smoke rose from the wooden planks, and startled cries from the Ghiscari guards echoed from behind the gates.

Drogon's mouth was like a welder's torch, and within seconds, his scorching flames burned through the thick wooden doors.

Crack! The massive wooden bolt behind the gate snapped from the heat, and with a groaning creak, the doors swung open.

"The gates are open! Charge!" Grey Worm raised his spear and led the charge, with the Unsullied flooding into the ancient city of Astapor like a tidal wave.

"Screech!" Drogon leaped back into the sky.

"Long live the Mother of Dragons! Kill them!"

Through Drogon's eyes, Dany saw the Unsullied and the revolting slaves surge through the city like a grey tide, drowning the ancient red city.

On the walls, in the streets, and in the training square where the Unsullied had once been drilled, men and women in Ghiscari tokar robes were being cut down. Once again, blood soaked the land that had devoured countless souls.

Blood for blood. The blood of the slave traders and their families washed away the resentment of the lingering ghosts of the enslaved. In the anguished cries of their oppressors, the spirits of the dead finally found peace.

But this cycle of bloodshed was far from over. The ghosts of the slain Ghiscari would replace the vengeful spirits of the slaves, haunting the streets, the squares, and the pyramids. Only the blood of that woman and her dragons could truly cleanse their resentment.

Yet Dany had already made peace with this. Today was merely the first step. The song of blood and fire had only just begun.

"Your Highness, I never imagined you would be so decisive. We've destroyed the very source of the Unsullied," Ser Barristan said with deep emotion. "You are the first to stand against slavery with such fierce resolve. But what about Westeros?

You swore to use the Unsullied only for just causes, which clearly means you do not intend to seize the Iron Throne with them—though I believe your return to the throne would be the greatest justice of all."

"I can't return to Westeros," Dany sighed, catching the thick scent of blood and smoke drifting from the city. "This is just the beginning. Once it starts, it can't be stopped.

Yunkai, Meereen, and New Ghis will be the first wave. Valyria and Qarth will be the second. The entire trade network of city-states built on slavery will be the third.

They will come for me one by one, or all at once. They may even form alliances.

Astapor… I do not seek to destroy it or kill the Great Masters. My ultimate goal is to end slavery itself!

I can grant the people of this city their freedom today, but the moment I leave, a new batch of Great Masters will spring up faster than bamboo shoots after the rain."

"And what of Westeros?"

The old knight knew she was right, but Westeros was his homeland. He longed for its shores and could not bear to see it fall into the hands of unworthy men.

"You said this is the 'ghost summer' year?" Dany asked.

"Yes. The maesters have warned that winter is coming," he replied.

"Eleven years of summer have passed. This year is the 'ghost summer.' Next year will bring autumn, and the year after that, at least four years of winter will follow.

Do you understand now?

If I were to return to Westeros with thirteen thousand Unsullied, I would not bring peace and prosperity to the people of the Seven Kingdoms. I would bring a winter as deadly as the Long Night itself."

Seeing the shock on Ser Barristan's face, she continued, "Man-made disasters are worse than natural ones, and war is the greatest of all human calamities."

"Your Majesty, you have the wisdom and courage of a true ruler, and the mercy of a just queen. You are the Prince That Was Promised, the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, the rightful queen!"

At that moment, in the old knight's eyes, Dany shone with a dazzling radiance.

How many kings had he served in his lifetime?

Yet only now had he found his true liege.

Dany's lips twitched. Forcing a smile under the old man's fervent gaze, she said, "The city is ours. Let's go in."

A four-year winter?

Too optimistic. The Long Night is coming soon. Am I supposed to go to Westeros just to feed the White Walkers?

(End of Chapter)

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