Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The slave merchant couldn't understand what the white-bearded old man was saying, but his tone and demeanor clearly weren't good for business.

"What's that stinky old man saying?" Kraznys asked the little translator.

After the young girl relayed the message, the plump slave master stomped his foot in anger. "That wretched old man! How terrible!"

"Tell that Westerner barbarian that we call the Unsullied's behavior 'obedience.' I know Andals and their knights are famous, but even if knights are stronger, faster, and more skilled than the Unsullied, they lack one thing my good slaves possess: absolute obedience and unwavering loyalty.

And ask that whore if her father's soldiers had been as loyal as my slaves, would she still be wandering like a stray dog with no home?"

Finally, he downed a glass of chilled grape wine, exhaled in satisfaction, and added, "Of course, mind your words. Don't let my esteemed guest feel the slightest displeasure."

The little girl stammered as she translated, managing to convey the full meaning without any offense. Hearing this, Dany couldn't help but feel sorry for her: Poor girl, this is too hard!

Arstan snorted coldly. "If it's obedience you want, I might as well sell sheep."

Hearing the translation, Kraznys bared his large, gleaming white teeth in laughter. "With just one command, these sheep will rip open his belly and spill his filthy old guts all over the brick floor."

The little translator said, "The Unsullied aren't sheep. They have the ferocity and loyalty of dogs."

"Guard dogs?"

Dany murmured softly, pacing along the ranks of the Unsullied as she observed them.

Behind her, the girl holding the parasol followed closely, keeping Dany in the shade. This reminded her that the Unsullied had been standing under the blazing sun for an entire day and morning without any shade.

Dany noticed that more than half of these Unsullied had the bronze skin and almond-shaped eyes of Dothraki or Lhazareen descent. Clearly, the Dothraki khalasars had made a "notable" contribution to the slave trade.

The rest were a mix of Free Cities pale-skinned men, milk-skinned Qartheen, black-skinned Summer Islanders, and even a couple of jaundiced, sharp-skulled Jogos Nhai. She wondered who had brought them from such distant lands.

Among them were also Ghiscari men with amber skin and stiff, red-and-black streaked hair who had been trained into Unsullied.

Even their own kind are not spared. Ruthless.

All the Unsullied had smooth cheeks and vacant eyes.

Despite their varying heights and ages—ranging from 14 to 20—they gave the impression of being stamped from the same mold.

Their appearances differ, but their souls have been forcibly shaped into the same form, Dany thought.

"Why are they castrated?" she asked Kraznys through the little slave. "Men are stronger than eunuchs. Everyone knows that."

"For warriors, what's most important?" Kraznys replied, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Strength? Bulls are strong, but they die every day in the fighting pits.

Just three days ago, a nine-year-old girl killed a bull in the Yunkai fighting pits.

Our old Ghiscari Empire proved to the world that discipline is far more important than strength.

The Unsullied are the rebirth of the synchronized Ghiscari legions—absolute obedience, absolute loyalty, and utter fearlessness."

He has a point. Countless examples from modern warfare prove one thing: discipline is the most critical element in an army.

Dany silently agreed.

"The bravest man still fears death and injury," Arstan countered.

Kraznys grinned, baring his teeth once more. "Tell that stinking old man he reeks of piss and needs a rotten stick just to stand. He's worse than crippled—he'd be better off drowning himself in the sea."

"Shall I say it like that, master?" The little translator looked helpless. She had no idea how to soften such insults.

The slave master jabbed her forward with his whip, making the girl stumble as he cursed angrily. "Are you a woman or a sheep? How can you ask such a stupid question? If you scare off my customers, who will I do business with?"

"Then how should I say it, master?" the young slave girl asked timidly.

"Tell them the Unsullied are not men. Death means nothing to them, and injuries even less!"

As the little translator conveyed his words, Kraznys climbed the nearby steps to the square. He stopped before a sturdy, bronze-skinned Unsullied soldier who looked like a Lhazareen.

Lifting his silver whip, he struck the man's face hard, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek.

The eunuch soldier merely blinked but stood motionless, letting the blood trickle down.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Want me to go again?" Kraznys mocked the soldier while grinning at Dany and her entourage.

"As long as it pleases you, master, you may continue," the Unsullied replied loudly.

Seeing the slave master raise his whip again, Dany quickly stepped forward and grabbed his arm. She turned to the little translator and said, "Please tell the Good Master I've already understood the courage with which they endure pain."

After her words were translated into Valyrian, Kraznys snickered. "Tell that ignorant Westerner whore that it has nothing to do with courage."

"The Good Master says it's not about courage, Your Grace," the little translator said.

"Tell her to open her dog eyes and see for herself."

Kraznys strode to the next soldier, a tall young man with Lysene blue eyes and flaxen hair.

"Give me your sword."

The Lysene knelt on one knee and deftly drew the short sword from his belt, presenting it hilt-first to the slave master with utmost reverence.

"Get up," Kraznys commanded.

The Unsullied immediately stood.

The slaver smiled at Daenerys, his expression nonchalant, as he slowly dragged the blade from bottom to top across the muscular torso of the Lysene slave, leaving a thin red line from the ribs to the abdomen.

Apparently unsatisfied, he began to slice back and forth with the tip of his sword, causing blood to flow like a stream down the slave's chest.

"Seven hells, what are you doing?" Daenerys exclaimed.

"Tell that cow not to make such a fuss," Kraznys said impatiently after hearing the translation. "Men don't need this, and eunuchs certainly don't."

Blood gushed from the Unsullied's chest, but he did not move until Kraznys handed back the sword, hilt first.

"Take it."

"It is my honor to serve, master," the slave warrior said respectfully as he accepted the blade.

Kraznys turned to face Daenerys. "See that? They feel no pain. We have a magical concoction called 'wine of courage,' made from nightshade, bloodfly larvae, black lotus root, and other secret ingredients.

From the day they are castrated, they drink it with every meal, day after day, year after year, until they are numb to feeling, fearless in battle, and immune to any form of torture.

Tell that barbarian of yours that any secret can be entrusted to the Unsullied. They can guard council chambers, even bedrooms, without a hint of worry about eavesdropping.

In Yunkai and Meereen, people like this cannot procreate—that would only cause trouble.

We leave nothing behind. The Unsullied are the purest creatures in the world, so the whore queen can use them without hesitation.

Oh, wait, maybe that's exactly what she needs. But don't worry; Astapor may not be Qarth, but..." He burst into laughter.

Daenerys fell into deep thought. Should she feed this fool to Drogon? Or Rhaegal? Or perhaps Viserion?

The small translator wavered on her feet, painstakingly polishing Kraznys' words before conveying them.

"Beast!" Ser Barristan slammed his staff to the ground, his face livid with anger.

"The old man insulted you, master," the trembling slave girl whispered.

"Hahaha!" The slaver laughed exaggeratedly, mocking the white-haired knight. "I hear that in that barbaric land of the Sunset Kingdoms, some people take solemn vows of chastity, forgoing reproduction and living only for their duties. Is that true?"

"Yes," Ser Barristan replied after the translator relayed the question. "Many such orders exist: the maesters of the Citadel, the septons and septas who serve the Seven, the Silent Sisters who mourn the dead, the Kingsguard, and the Night's Watch..."

The slaver's voice lowered. "Men shouldn't live that way. Every day would be a torment of temptation, and vows are useless—most will eventually give in to their base desires.

The Unsullied are different. Their bond with their swords surpasses any vow a man could ever take. Women, men—it doesn't matter. None can tempt them."

"Hmph. Don't you know that beyond bodily desires, there are countless other ways to tempt a man?" Barristan retorted scornfully after the translator finished.

"Yes, countless ways. But the Unsullied are unique. They have nothing but their weapons. No names, no wealth, no women, no power, not even food holds meaning for them."

"No names? Then how am I supposed to address them?" Daenerys frowned at the translator.

"Your Grace, they don't have fixed names."

Kraznys stopped in front of a Ghiscari man with the same amber skin, black-red upright hair, and even a similar hairstyle as himself. At a glance, their faces bore a resemblance as well.

Daenerys couldn't help but think bitterly—had this cruel slaver trained his own spare sons into Unsullied to make a profit?

Kraznys gestured with his whip toward a small bronze tag on the slave's sword belt. "If you want to know his name, look at the tag.

Oh, ask this Westerosi whore if she can read High Ghiscari glyphs."

"I cannot," Daenerys admitted sullenly.

After hearing the answer from the translator, Kraznys frowned and turned to the Unsullied. "What's your name?"

"This humble one is called Red Flea, master."

"What was it yesterday?"

"Black Rat, master."

"And the day before that?"

"This humble one does not remember, master. Perhaps Blue Toad? Or Blue Worm? Or Shield?"

"Tell her their names are like this—bugs, rats, toads, worms—so they are constantly reminded that they are nothing but lowly vermin.

Every evening, all the name tags are thrown into an empty wooden barrel, and at dawn, they are randomly redistributed.

Hmph, they're worth less than the lowest insect."

(End of Chapter)

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