Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Seven levels of hell!" Whitebeard groaned after hearing the details, his whole demeanor collapsing. "This is insane. Truly insane! How can anyone expect everyone to remember a new name every day?"

"Indeed, the world lacks many things, but fools are never in short supply," Kraznys said, nodding in agreement with the little interpreter's translation. Then, with an air of nonchalance, he added, "That's why we sift out the smart, strong, and obedient ones.

If they can't remember a new name—kill them.

If they can't carry a full load while running all day—kill them.

If they can't climb a mountain in pitch darkness—kill them.

If they can't walk barefoot over burning coals—kill them.

If they can't kill a baby—kill them.

If they can't kill a dog—kill them."

At this, even Jorah's expression twisted, his right hand gripping his sword hilt so tightly it creaked.

Dany believed that with just one command from her, he would charge forward without hesitation and slice the smug slave master in two in the blink of an eye.

To be honest, Dany herself was pale, her delicate face contorted in fury.

Her expression was unguarded, and the slave master saw it all. Yet instead of feeling ashamed, he seemed proud, his smile widening with disdain as he looked at her.

"Killing babies? Whose babies do the Unsullied kill? Are you training them for siege warfare?" Dany lowered her gaze and asked.

Kraznys smirked and replied mockingly, "Before earning their spiked helmets and becoming true Unsullied, every slave is given a silver coin. They take it to the slave market, find a crying newborn, and, in front of the mother, kill the child.

Heh heh heh. That way, we can ensure they have no weakness left in their hearts."

Crunch—

Dany thought she heard the sound of teeth grinding. Was it Jorah Mormont? Or Whitebeard Arstan?

When she tried to speak, she realized her own jaw was clenched, her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

It was her.

"They snatch babies from their mothers' arms, kill them while the mothers watch, and pay a single coin as 'compensation' for their pain? Even for creating the Unsullied, this is beyond cruel," she said through gritted teeth, swallowing the blood in her mouth.

"Ha ha ha ha!" Kraznys burst into laughter when the translation was complete. "What a whiny, soft-hearted fool this Westerosi woman is!

Tell her the silver coin is given to the baby's owner, not its mother. Everything a slave owns belongs to their master—even their children!"

What were personal insults compared to the lives and dignity of thousands?

Dany had once thought the Daenerys in the original story was unwise for sacrificing the Targaryen family's reputation for a mere "trifle" of Unsullied soldiers.

Now, she began to understand. Or perhaps, she understood Qin Shi Huang's burden: bearing the scorn of the world to benefit the people.

Well, perhaps she was being dramatic. Qin Shi Huang's challenges were far greater and more noble than hers.

In any case, as Kraznys's laughter rang out, Dany made a decision in her heart.

When she suddenly smiled sweetly and meaningfully at Kraznys, the slave master stopped laughing and gave her a peculiar look. Seeing her continue to smile at him, he grew uncomfortable and turned his head away.

But soon, a wave of intense shame washed over him. Furious, the slave master smacked his leg with his whip and shouted at the trembling interpreter, "Tell that Westerosi wench that killing babies is nothing! Far more slaves fail the dog-killing test.

Tell her that on the day every boy is castrated, I give him a puppy. He must raise it for a year, then strangle it with his own hands.

Heh heh. Those who can't do it are immediately executed, their flesh stripped from their bones and fed to the dog they couldn't bear to kill.

Dogs have no such qualms. They eat heartily!

Ha ha ha! For those boys, killing a dog is far harder than killing a person. Ask them if they're surprised!

Because eunuch warriors feel no affection for babies. But that puppy? It's their only companion, their only source of solace. Ha ha ha!"

Whitebeard averted his gaze. Kraznys had pushed him to the brink of tolerance. He had never felt such a desperate desire to leave a city or a bay. This place was so filthy that it offended every fiber of his righteous being.

"Your Grace, with the utmost sincerity, I beg you to leave this place immediately. Hell is no place for one as pure as you," he said.

"Slave masters belong in hell. But what does that have to do with the Unsullied?" Jorah countered. "Serving the queen is far better than being tortured here."

"Buying the Unsullied is the same as helping the slave masters," Whitebeard growled. "They'll use the gold we pay to purchase more child slaves, kill more babies, and slaughter more dogs."

"Would the Unsullied stop being produced just because we don't buy them? Are we the only customers in the world?" Jorah scoffed.

"Hey, you Westerosi pigs, what are you muttering about?" Kraznys shouted, cracking his whip. "If you're buying, hurry up and buy. If not, leave immediately. I'm busy. A pirate king is coming soon to inspect the slaves. He said he might buy them all."

"Master, the pirate king came three days ago," the young translator reminded him. "Today, your only scheduled guest is Her Majesty, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Kraznys jabbed the handle of his whip against the back of the girl's head a few times. "He came three days ago; does that mean he can't come again? We didn't seal the deal last time!"

The girl shrank her neck and squinted her eyes, enduring the prodding. "Master, you're right. But that pirate king only wanted to buy 100 Unsullied and insisted on slashing the price in half. You told him to get lost—ouch!"

Kraznys rapped her head again, furious. "You translate what I say, no more, no less! Do you, a lowly slave, understand the wisdom of business? If I don't provoke her, how will that silver-haired harlot queen pay a fortune to buy my slaves?"

"Yes, yes," the young translator mumbled submissively, conveying his words to the guests.

Dany's face turned anxious, as expected. "Oh no, Good Master, you mustn't do that. I need the Unsullied to reclaim my kingdom!"

"Then hurry up and buy them!" Kraznys grinned smugly as the translation reached him. "Sigh, these days, only Myr and Tyrosh are at war on the Essos continent. It's too peaceful, and the Unsullied aren't selling well! Otherwise, would that damned pirate dare haggle with me?

I hear Westeros is in chaos. Once that harlot queen takes my fine slaves to make her move—ha!—it'd be perfect if they used 3,000 Unsullied to defend King's Landing. Those ignorant savages will be in for a shock.

I hear there are seven kings in Westeros? The richest one, Tywin, is said to crap gold?"

Kraznys chuckled at his own musings before snapping back to reality. Seeing the young translator standing dumbfounded, he rapped her shoulder lightly. "Quick, tell them to make their purchase soon.

Ugh, damn it, they're already trained Unsullied!

The best business is selling them right after training. It's a pity the Unsullied aren't pigs; they don't grow fatter the longer you keep them. In fact, they eat more than pigs.

Feeding them every day is a huge expense, and you can't skimp on it. If they're starved or underfed, no one will buy them."

"But Master, you've said so much—how should I translate all of that?" The young translator tried hard to maintain a serious expression, but her face scrunched up, close to tears.

"You stupid Naathi sheep!" Kraznys cursed, pounding her head, shoulder, and neck repeatedly. "Some things can be said, and some can't. Can't you figure that out?"

The translator stood stiffly, taking the blows without flinching. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, she said, "Master, the only thing I can say is: 'Please place your order quickly.' But you've said so much that they'll know it wasn't just one sentence!"

"Hmph, that's true!" Kraznys tilted his head, considering this, before smacking her lightly with his whip again. "Why didn't you remind me earlier, you little fool? Do you have no sense at all? Were you born from your father mating with a sheep on Naath?"

"Sorry, Master," the young translator said blankly. "Please stop now; the guests are all watching you."

Snap! Another lash of the whip. Kraznys jumped in anger. "You lowly slave, worse than a stray dog, how dare you lecture the great Good Master?!"

"Sorry, Master," the translator apologized through gritted teeth, enduring the pain. "You did ask me to remind you."

Kraznys froze mid-whip, his hand suspended in the air. After a long pause, he gave her one final rap on the head, muttering, "Exaggerate the demand for the Unsullied on the market. Tell them if they don't act quickly, they'll miss their chance."

With that, the young translator, keeping a straight face, began spinning a tale of how the Unsullied were in high demand—saying almost as much as Kraznys had before. It was no small feat for her.

Dany listened to the embellished speech with a hidden smirk before replying nervously, "Is that so? You see, my two advisors are divided on this matter. I was planning to hold a meeting to discuss it further. If that's the case, I'll have to abandon my plan to purchase the Unsullied.

Honestly, I believe the Unsullied, who can serve for a lifetime, are far more reliable than the Golden Company."

Hearing the translator relay her words, Kraznys's eyes narrowed, and he roared, "That harlot speaks the truth! The Unsullied can serve for life, while the Golden Company is untrustworthy and outrageously expensive. Worse, they require renegotiation every few years. Damn it, it's always the Golden Company. That time with Myr—"

Kraznys suddenly shot a suspicious look at Dany and said, "The Golden Company just signed a contract with Myr. Their motto is 'Our word is as good as gold.' They've never broken a contract since their founding.

How could this Westerosi harlot hire the Golden Company? Is she trying to haggle with me? Ask her properly!"

(End of Chapter)

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