Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"You're a merchant transporting provisions for the Ghiscari Alliance?" Dany sat high on her great yellow horse, peering through the slit of her visor at the plump, fair-skinned man with straight black hair below. "Even though you're Ghiscari, I haven't treated merchants like I did the Wise Masters. The penalty of confiscating half of your assets is not my invention—it has plenty of precedent in city-state wars."

Dany wasn't wrong. In city-state wars, if one side suffered a costly victory, they would often seize part—or even all—of the wealth from captured merchants to compensate for their losses.

After all, war profiteering was highly lucrative. Two city-states might fight to the death, yet in the end, it was often a third-party merchant who reaped the rewards.

Take this time, for example—Dany had confiscated more from merchants than from the Ghiscari slave masters themselves, by a margin of more than three to one.

Over the 600-kilometer march, most of the Golden Glory coins carried by the Ghiscari army had ended up in the pockets of the merchants trailing behind them.

"Your Grace, I am not Ghiscari."

"You wear your hair like that, dress in a tokar, and still claim not to be Ghiscari?" Dany scoffed. "Don't be afraid. I hold no particular grudge against Ghiscari. In fact, most of them in Astapor are living better than before."

That was quite an exaggeration.

Those who had fallen into slavery due to bankruptcy were now free men, granted dozens of acres of land, and given large, interest-free loans from Dany. Naturally, they were better off than before.

But the original Ghiscari elite, stripped of their privileges, were less fortunate. Even the master craftsmen, once the pride of their people, were considering leaving Astapor.

"Your Grace, with my fair skin, how could I possibly be pure Ghiscari? I only dress this way to earn more respect from the slave masters. Look." He untied the cloth wrapped around his forehead, revealing a green-striped tattoo on his left temple.

Dany's expression turned peculiar as she studied the man. His hair was styled into a black unicorn-like crest, his plump face resembled a steamed bun, and he wore a humble smile. His narrow black eyes gleamed with cunning, his nose was tiny, but his lips were astonishingly thick—almost as if two sausages hung from his mouth.

He wasn't tall, standing around 1.65 meters, slightly shorter than Dany. Yet, despite his size, he wasn't merely fat—he was solidly built, much like the eunuch Belwas.

"You were a slave before? From one of the Free Cities?"

Slaves from the Free Cities often bore tattoos on their faces indicating their professions.

For example, slave warriors had ferocious beasts like tigers, lions, or scorpions tattooed on them. Tavern servants had gentler symbols like turtles, leaves, kettles, or wheels.

Prostitutes usually bore a single teardrop at the corner of their eyes—an attempt to maintain their beauty while marking them as property.

Slaves from Slaver's Bay rarely had tattoos, as they were bred for export. Slave masters preferred their "products" unmarked, so buyers from other city-states could decide on their branding.

The sausage-lipped man grinned. "Your Grace, I am Fat Doshim from Volantis. I was once a sergeant in the Tiger Cloaks. Due to my bravery in battle, I gained some renown in Volantis.

"As luck would have it, a grain merchant had a daughter—too fat and ugly to marry. So, he bought me, a handsome and valiant warrior, to be his son-in-law. When my father-in-law passed, I inherited his business.

"Your liberation of the slaves in Slaver's Bay caused quite a stir. The great slave masters of Meereen and Yunkai were throwing money around, hiring sellswords from across the world.

"I saw an opportunity for profit. I loaded up 400 carts of sesame oil and followed the Second Sons across the Dothraki Sea to Meereen. After selling the oil to the slave masters, I used the money to buy up grain and livestock, then made my way here."

"You didn't, by any chance, seduce your wife first, get her pregnant, and force her father to marry her off to you, did you?" Dany asked suspiciously.

"Your Grace, what makes you say that?" Fat Doshim looked stunned.

"Have you ever looked in a mirror? Or do Volantene men simply wear sausages on their lips as decoration?" Dany smirked.

"Ah, Your Grace, you don't understand." Fat Doshim touched his thick lips proudly. "Men with thick lips look honest! My father-in-law was deeply concerned for his daughter's future. I didn't let him down—though I've taken seven or eight lovers and fathered fifteen illegitimate children, Daelin has always been my wife, and her children will inherit my estate."

Dany's expression turned cold. "Perhaps I should kill you and let your wife and children inherit your estate immediately. Your late father-in-law might rest easier."

"Your Grace, that would be most unreasonable," the scoundrelly merchant protested. He wasn't the least bit frightened by Dany's murderous tone. Instead, he put on a pitiful expression and said, "You don't know how ugly my wife is. I don't need a mirror in the morning—seeing her is like looking at my own reflection."

Dany couldn't help but chuckle.

Seeing that he had amused her, Fat Doshim put on an even more pitiful face. "Only two kinds of men don't take lovers when married to someone so hideous: paupers and those who… well, aren't capable. And I, Your Grace, am neither—"

"Enough. I don't have time for your nonsense." Dany waved a hand, cutting off his lewd ramblings. "What do you want?"

"Your Grace, you've taken half my packhorses and forcibly purchased the other half, yet you've shown no interest in my wagons or the grain they carry."

The fat merchant's face crumpled like a steamed bun. "You even took my slave laborers! How am I supposed to transport all this food, stranded in the wilderness?"

"Oh... My apologies. I hadn't considered that," Dany admitted awkwardly.

Fat Doshim, for once, was left speechless.

Did the Mother of Dragons just say "sorry" to me?

Did she so straightforwardly admit her mistake to a mere merchant like me?

For some reason, an impulse surged within him, and he shouted, "Long live the Queen! Please go liberate Volantis!"

"How about this—I'll buy all your grain at Astapor's market price?" she said.

To hell with "Long live the Mother of Dragons."

With a grim expression, Fat said, "Your Majesty, the market price in Astapor is even lower than what I pay when sourcing from Biquan City. It's not even one-fiftieth of what I sell to the Ghiscari army. If I sell at this price, I'll go bankrupt for sure."

He wasn't exaggerating. Transporting grain across a thousand miles meant feeding both people and horses, plus accounting for transportation losses—the cost would increase at least tenfold.

Meanwhile, Astapor had enjoyed a bountiful harvest for two consecutive seasons. Aside from Daenerys and the breweries, no one was buying grain, and market prices had plummeted.

Even though Daenerys had tried to protect the farmers by implementing macroeconomic policies—massively increasing government grain reserves—the price was still only half of what it had been before she took over Astapor.

And with the granaries in both the pyramids and villages overflowing with stockpiled grain, Daenerys had little interest in buying from merchants.

"What do you want, then?" Daenerys asked.

"I just need to avoid losing money."

"You lost the war, and you still want to break even?" Daenerys sneered.

The fat merchant gritted his teeth, as if making a life-or-death decision. "Well… losing just a little would be fine too."

Daenerys was about to mock him further when a sudden thought crossed her mind. She smiled and said, "Fat, are all merchants suffering losses?"

"Not exactly. Those brothel madams who own a bunch of prostitutes are making a fortune. And tonight, they'll make even more from your soldiers. Those whores are already itching to get to work!" the fat merchant said sourly.

Daenerys thought for a moment, then turned to an Unsullied soldier and ordered, "Inform the prostitutes that the Mother of Dragons grants them freedom. They can abandon their profession and become free citizens of Astapor."

"Hahaha! Your Majesty, do you really think those women would trade their luxurious, pleasure-filled lives for a hard life as farmers or textile workers in Astapor?" Fat chortled.

Daenerys shot him a glance and continued speaking to the Unsullied. "Ask those women—do they want a husband? If they do, I can help find them a good match."

"They all want to marry rich merchants or wealthy men. Even being a mistress to a rich man is better than marrying some soldier," Fat scoffed.

"You should worry about yourself first," Daenerys said coldly.

"Oh, Your Majesty, please, you must help me," Fat immediately pleaded, looking pitiful.

"Here's the deal—I will still purchase your grain at Astapor's market price. However, to compensate for the difference between this and the price you sell to the Ghiscari slave traders, I will personally reimburse you the shortfall—as the Queen, not as the government."

Fat's small, squinting eyes widened so much they almost popped out like two boiled eggs. He stammered, "Your Majesty, have you gone mad?"

Daenerys glared at him. "The reimbursement won't be in gold coins. Instead, you can use it to purchase goods in Astapor. No matter what you buy, no matter the price, I will refund 40% of your spending.

The total rebate amount won't exceed the price difference on the grain.

And it doesn't have to be used all at once. You can register your name and your trading company at customs, and the rebate will remain valid anytime you return to Astapor."

At first, Fat was confused. But gradually, his pig-like eyes lit up with admiration. He gazed at Daenerys with pure reverence.

"Your Majesty, I'm convinced now—you are the true ruler!" He spoke solemnly. "Wisdom, courage, compassion, justice—a perfect knight-king.

And your insights into governance and commerce are extraordinary.

In all of recorded human history, I can't think of a more perfect ruler than you.

The world will change because of you. Perhaps, for the first time, humanity will finally end its greatest disease—slavery."

Well, damn. Looks like I underestimated him. Despite being fat, lecherous, and greedy, this merchant has quite a sharp mind!

Suddenly, Daenerys didn't find him as unpleasant to look at.

But just as she was beginning to appreciate his intelligence, Fat immediately reverted to his shameless, groveling self. With tears in his eyes, he pleaded, "Your Majesty, since you're being so generous, why not go all the way? Just compensate me in gold coins! How about an 80% reimbursement? No, 70%? I can't go bankrupt—if I do, my entire family is doomed! Waaaah!"

"What do you mean? How does bankruptcy equal your whole family dying?" Daenerys asked irritably.

Her right hand instinctively rested on the hilt of her sword. If Fat said one more annoying word, she'd slash his fat face on the spot.

"Your Majesty, your policy is great, but what goods are even worth buying in Astapor? Surely you're not suggesting I buy Unsullied soldiers?" Fat whined.

"Heh, your impression of Astapor is stuck in the past. Don't say another word—just go see for yourself… wait—"

Mid-sentence, Daenerys' expression suddenly changed. She turned to Fat and said, "I have urgent business and must leave immediately. If you have any questions, discuss them with my secretary in Astapor."

"What happened?" Fat asked, confused.

"I don't mind telling you—the Ghiscari navy has entered the Worm River," Daenerys replied casually before spurring her horse toward White Poplar Hill.

(End of Chapter)

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