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Elysa Xandar, Essos 57 AC
Xandar, Essos
57 AC
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The world I knew had died in a matter of days, and in its place, something was born that defied everything I understood. I still remember the panic when the "slender demons"—as we called those dark beings in the harbor brothels—carried off the Triarchs. But what came next was even stranger. There was no looting. There was... construction.
Now, I stood in a white stone plaza so clean I was ashamed to step on it with my worn-out sandals. In front of me, and a group of about fifty Volantenes—mostly slaves like me, faces marked by confusion—stood our guide.
He was no ordinary man. He wore an impeccable white robe stitched with gold thread. His beard and hair were white, as if he were hundreds of years old, and though he looked the part, he introduced himself as "Librarian Mario," an envoy of King Caspian. Or Khal, I don't know; I still didn't know how to refer to the man who had conquered Volantis and turned it into... this.
"Listen carefully," the Librarian said, and although his voice had a peculiar tone, as if it were difficult for him to speak, it emanated an absolute authority, similar to that of my former master. "As of today, you have ceased to be slaves. You are now citizens of Xandar. And your first tool of citizenship is this."
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Those words frightened many, including me. We were slaves; it was all I had known since I could remember, and now, suddenly, we weren't? Did that mean they would throw us into the street?
The man seemed to understand my thoughts and those of the others, because he raised his wrinkled hand and spoke again. "You are no longer slaves; now you are servants." He looked at everyone with a cold gaze until it fixed on me, and I couldn't help but shudder.
"That means you now have rights. You will no longer be forced to work without pay; you will have a roof of your own, and based on your knowledge and skills, you will obtain work from that. Now, let us first continue with this." He held up a small, polished wooden plaque with metal-reinforced edges. It had a cord to hang it around the neck.
"This is an Identity Tag," he explained, approaching me. I flinched by instinct, expecting a blow, but he only extended the plaque to me with a practiced courtesy. "Elysa, right? Former dockworker. Here it says your name, your new address in Silverflower, and your serial number. From today on, if anyone tries to take away your freedom, this tag is your legal shield. Use it to collect your three monthly gold coins and to enter your new home."
I took the tag. It was light, but I felt it weighed more than any chain I had ever carried. "Follow me. Time is a non-renewable resource," the guide sentenced. He then mounted a horse and began to ride slowly, followed by slaves... No, by servants.
We walked through the streets of Silverflower—the name of the place where I was to live from now on—and amazement left us speechless. The buildings weren't like the crowded houses of old Volantis. They were tall castles, perfectly aligned, with windows of glass so clear they looked like holes in the air. There was no smell of urine or rot; instead, the air smelled of pine and the fresh breeze of the Rhoyne, which now flowed from the great river through widened and clean canals into the city.
"You will live here," he said, pointing to one of the buildings. "Each apartment has running water and space for ten people. Silverflower is designed to be the city's executive center. To the south are the shipyards and docks, and to the north, the Red Temple, along with the central forest."
"A forest... inside the city?" asked a man tattooed with the tiger stripes of the old guards. I had already seen the forest; it was hard to miss, especially with how vast it looked.
"Three hundred and fifty acres of controlled nature," the Librarian replied unperturbed. "King Caspian believes that contact with nature increases productivity."
As we moved west, the Librarian pointed toward the inner walls, which rose like cliffs of milk-white stone.
"Beyond that wall is Goldflower; the high nobility and the court will live there. And on that mount, Minas Tirith, the royal fortress. Do not attempt to cross without permission; the witches—and perhaps in a few months, the Iron Golems as well—do not understand excuses."
He led us to a viewpoint near the new shipyards. From there, Xandar looked like a map of perfect geometry—a word he taught us. I could see the Red Temple, now a structure that dwarfed any other structure in the city except for Minas Tirith, and beyond that, the imposing mountain range the King had raised out of nothing. The mountains surrounded the city in a protective embrace, turning it into an impregnable valley.
"Look to the south," the guide ordered. "Xandar's docks can now receive thirty dromonds simultaneously. And with the shipbuilders and our knowledge, we expect to change those obsolete ships into something much better. Furthermore, you will no longer need tugboats. We have introduced Redstone mechanisms for that. This place was very backward; it was about time civilization reached you."
I stared at the horizon, where the sun reflected off the sea-green tiles of the royal fortress in the distance. And for the first time in my twenty years, I didn't feel fear of what the night would bring. Instead, I squeezed the tag in my hand.
"Mr. Librarian," I said, my voice trembling but clear. "Can we really walk wherever we want? Will no one mark us with fire for being on the wrong street?"
The Librarian stared at me for a few seconds, and I thought I had offended him. "In Xandar, the only mark that matters is the one you decide to leave with your work and your knowledge. King Caspian has erased the past. What you build on this new ground depends on you. You are now citizens, and if you are hurt or mistreated, the guards and the red priests are tasked with ensuring your justice."
I looked around. Volantis had been a cave of sweat and despair. Now, in its place, Xandar was cold, distant, and strangely beautiful. It was a city built by a god for men who had forgotten what it was to be human.
"Then," I whispered, starting to walk toward my new building, "I suppose it's time to learn how to live again."
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The first thing that hit me was the smell of flowers and fruit. Volantis always stank of horse shit, rancid man-sweat, and that stench of rotten fish that rose from the river when the sun beat down. But here, the air was clean. So clean I was afraid to breathe hard, as if I were going to get something dirty.
I stood there, in the middle of the hall of the huge building where I was supposed to live now. The floor wasn't dirt or those stones that cut your feet when you walk barefoot. They were smooth blocks, so perfect they looked like they were placed by a hand that never makes a mistake.
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"Hello, can I help you?" A dry, cold voice brought me back to life, forcing me to pay attention to my surroundings. "I'm so sorry, it won't happen again," I immediately apologized, while looking at the ground, not daring to look at the woman in front of me.
"You are no longer a slave, woman. Stand up and behave like a Xandarian citizen." I forced myself to straighten up and look at the woman. Her hair was styled strangely, but her clothes looked comfortable and clean. I didn't know what they were made of, but it didn't look like something a slave would wear.
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"I'm Elysa. Librarian Mario gave me this; I'm supposed to live here," I told her, showing her the paper Mario had given me. She didn't even look at it; instead, she turned and walked toward what looked like a desk behind a small wooden wall.
"Let's see... Elysa, Elysa," the stoic woman searched through the pages of a thick book, humming my name. "Here it is. Elysa, twenty years old, former dock slave."
Without a word, she picked up a heavy set of keys and began walking toward some grand stairs, wide enough to let an elephant pass if necessary. "Are you waiting for an invitation?" Seeing that I wasn't following, the woman stopped and called out to me, and I followed her without delay.
I followed her, my mouth hanging open. We passed through corridors made of a white stone I had never seen and with glass windows that... damn, it was so much glass it made my head ache to think how much money that would be worth. In the brothels where I sometimes worked, if you had a broken little mirror, you were already a queen. Here, every window was bigger than a door.
"This is your apartment, number 12-04," the woman said, taking a key from her bunch and opening what I believed was an oak door.
"You will live here. The apartment has five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a kitchen, a patio, two studies, and four balconies. Water comes out of the faucets so you don't have to go fetch it from the river like a pack animal. Honestly, I don't know how they hadn't invented dispensers yet."
We went in and my legs felt heavy. The "apartment"... by R'hllor, that wasn't a room. It was a mini palace. I ran to the window because I felt like I was running out of air.
"Holy shit!" I blurted out, my heart leaping in my chest.
From up here, the city looked like a drawing made with a ruler. Everything straight, without alleys where you could be gutted without anyone knowing. But what made my stomach turn were the mountains. Those giant rocks weren't there days ago. And yet, they were things the King had created—towering stone walls that enclosed the whole city, as if we were inside a safety box made by the gods themselves.
I turned around, hands trembling, that Tag squeezed against my chest.
"Listen, ma'am..." I said, swallowing hard. "Why? Why are they giving us this? I'm nothing but a dock slave. I don't know how to do anything but carry cargo from the ships. Why does the King waste his magic on someone like me?" Because it would definitely take magic to do all this.
The woman looked at me like I was an ant, but not with contempt—more like she was thinking where to put me.
"Because a dead man cannot work, and a slave only works out of fear," she replied with that condescending voice of hers. "The King wants a city that works, and for it to work, you have to be alive, healthy, and eager to keep what is now yours. Tomorrow you'll be given three gold coins. Buy yourself something to eat that doesn't have worms and clothes that aren't torn."
She left and left me there alone. Not before leaving me a "manual" on what some instruments were called and how they worked, along with two keys to the apartment I now owned. I sat on the floor because the beds were too white and I was afraid to stain them. I watched the sun hiding behind those fake mountains and felt a strange thing in my throat. I felt like crying, but not out of sorrow.
For the first time in my life, I didn't have to think about who was going to give me the next blow or if I'd be eating fish scraps tomorrow. Xandar was a place for madmen, made by a god-man, but if that god gave me a bed and water that came out of the wall by itself, I was going to be his faithful follower until my last breath.