As the merchant ship sailed across the Summer Sea, the air grew increasingly hot and humid.
The cold winds of Westeros felt like a memory from a past life.
Now, the scorching red sun baked the deck, causing sticky sweat to seep from every pore.
Daenerys leaned into Lynn's embrace, her silver-gold hair blowing in the sea breeze.
She pointed at a name circled in red ink on the sea chart, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"Astapor?"
"The Dothraki are an undisciplined herd of wild horses, Daenerys," Lynn's voice was calm.
He held Daenerys's hand, feeling its delicate warmth.
"They can break through a city wall, but they'll also kill each other over a woman the next second."
"They can only be conquered."
Lynn's gaze turned towards the distant southeast.
There, a reddish-brown coastline was slowly emerging.
Astapor.
The pearl of Slaver's Bay.
A city built of blood and brick finally appeared in everyone's sight.
The massive red brick walls gleamed blindingly under the scorching sun, as if soaked in blood.
At the highest point of the city wall, a colossal bronze Harpy statue, holding chains and a whip aloft, disdainfully overlooked every ship entering and exiting the harbor.
An indescribable stench, a mixture of sweat, spices, dust, and dried corpses, assailed them with the hot wind.
Daenerys instinctively frowned, burying her face deeper into Lynn's chest.
"This is Astapor."
Viserys's voice came from nearby, tinged with a morbid excitement.
He stood by the ship's rail, greedily eyeing the city that exuded wealth and sin.
"The City of Slaves!"
"They say there are more slaves here than Free Folk!"
"Look at those fools, Illyrio the fat man was actually afraid of them!"
"They should be trampled underfoot!"
The merchant ship slowly sailed into the harbor.
On the docks, countless shirtless slaves, wearing iron collars around their necks, were hauling heavy cargo like livestock under the overseers' whips.
Their eyes were hollow and numb.
As if their souls had long been drained.
As Lynn and his party disembarked, several men in tokar robes with prominent noses immediately surrounded them.
They were slave traders.
Their shrewd eyes scanned Daenerys and the accompanying female slaves, as if appraising the quality of goods.
"Get out."
Lynn didn't even look at them, merely uttering two words faintly.
The slave traders wanted to say something more.
But when their eyes met Lynn's dark, abyss-like gaze, the rest of their words caught in their throats.
They unconsciously took a few steps back, clearing a path.
Through the dirty, crowded docks, the group entered Astapor's city proper.
Unlike the chaos of the docks, the city's streets were wide and clean, flanked by tall, pyramid-shaped red brick buildings.
These were the residences of the Good Masters.
However, beneath this cleanliness lay a deeper evil.
Along the streets, every so often, a slave was nailed to a stake.
Most of them were already dead, their bodies dried into mummies by the scorching sun.
Vultures circled above them, occasionally swooping down to peck at the rotting flesh.
This was Astapor's "Walk of Pride."
Used to deter all disloyal slaves.
Daenerys's face grew paler.
She clutched Lynn's arm tightly, her body trembling slightly.
Just then, a commotion erupted in the plaza not far ahead.
It was a large plaza, known as the "Plaza of Punishment."
At this moment, in the center of the plaza, a lavishly dressed Good Master was pointing with an ivory-inlaid whip at a row of shirtless young boys, branded with the Harpy's mark on their chests.
"Look! Lords from Qarth!"
The Good Master's voice was grating and self-satisfied.
"Look at my newest merchandise! The purest Unsullied!"
"In their bodies, there is not an ounce of fear or weakness! They are perfect killing machines!"
To prove his words, he snapped his fingers.
An overseer dragged a ragged female slave from the crowd.
In the slave's arms was a baby still in swaddling clothes.
"This is the final step."
The smile on the Good Master's face turned cruel.
"Sever their last emotional ties to this world."
He casually pointed to one of the boys in the group and commanded.
"You, come here."
The boy, who looked to be only about ten years old, stepped forward, his eyes hollow like a walking corpse.
"Kill that bastard."
The Good Master pointed his whip at the baby in the female slave's arms, speaking in a casual tone.
The female slave's body trembled violently.
She looked at the Good Master in horror, then at the boy walking towards her, guttural sounds escaping her throat, but she couldn't even utter a plea for mercy.
The boy walked up to her and drew a short spear from his waist.
A flicker of reluctance crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by indifference.
Pfft—
A faint sound of flesh tearing.
The baby's cries abruptly ceased.
Blood splattered on the female slave's desperate and numb face.
The boy expressionlessly withdrew the short spear.
He wiped the blood from the spearhead with the slave's dirty rags, then turned and returned to the ranks.
From beginning to end, his facial expression remained unchanged.
As if what he had just killed was not a living being, but an insignificant insect.
"Ah—!"
A piercing scream cut through the plaza's clamor.
It was not the slave who had lost her child.
But Daenerys.
She could no longer suppress the horror and anger in her heart.
Her violet eyes were filled with tears.
"Quiet."
Lynn's arm, like an iron clamp, encircled Daenerys's waist, holding her tightly against him.
Lynn's voice was low, sounding in her ear.
"Look, Daenerys, look closely."
"Remember this face, remember the faces of these people."
"Remember what their so-called pride is built upon."
Daenerys's body trembled violently.
She buried her face in Lynn's chest, her suppressed sobs almost suffocating her.
Lynn said nothing more, merely raising his head.
He calmly looked at the Good Master who was boasting about the "quality" of his merchandise.
His gaze held no anger, no pity.
Only a bottomless coldness.
As if he were looking at a dead man… Viserys was momentarily stunned by the scene in the plaza.
But soon, that shock transformed into a twisted yearning.
Absolute obedience, absolute control!
This was the power a king should possess!
He looked at the Unsullied, motionless like statues, his eyes nearly overflowing with greed.
If he could possess such an army… Led by a slave guide, Lynn and his party arrived at a magnificent mansion located on a high point of the city.
This was one of Astapor's most luxurious estates, belonging to a wealthy merchant who was often away on business.
Lynn simply instructed the guide to give a crest engraved with a three-headed ice dragon to the estate's steward.
Half an hour later, they became the new owners of the mansion.
The mansion was filled with slaves dressed in clean white linen.
They moved cautiously through the corridors and gardens with bowed heads, daring not to make a sound.
Lynn confined Viserys, knowing he would eventually try to cause trouble.
When Daenerys could no longer tolerate Viserys, that would be his end.
Lynn did not want Viserys to harm his and Daenerys's relationship.
In the room.
Daenerys still hadn't recovered from the day's horror.
She sat on the soft silk bed, hugging her knees, her beautiful face devoid of color.
"Those people… they are no longer human."
Her voice was bitter.
"They are monsters cultivated by those devils with the blood of children."
Lynn walked over to her and sat down.
He offered no words of comfort, simply bringing a cup of warm mead to her lips.
Daenerys obediently took a sip, and her trembling body subsided slightly.
"They are the most elite warriors in this world."
Lynn's voice was calm.
"And they will soon belong to us."
"Please!"
Daenerys suddenly looked up, her tear-filled violet eyes full of resistance and disgust.
"Can we not have these monsters?"
"I don't want to be a slave owner! I will not become a devil like them!"
Lynn watched her quietly.
He watched her purity and kindness that still refused to compromise in the face of evil.
Lynn suddenly smiled.
He reached out and gently stroked her cheek.
"Who said I want you to be a slave owner?"
He stood up and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside the window were the lights of Astapor.
The bronze Harpy, a symbol of slavery and oppression, appeared even more menacing in the night.
"Did you think I brought you here to buy a group of slaves?"
Lynn turned around and looked at Daenerys, his dark eyes shimmering with a light she couldn't understand.
"I told you, Daenerys."
"I came here to break some things."
"Like… the chains of those slaves."
Just then, a slave entered to announce.
"My lord, a knight calling himself Jorah Mormont requests an audience."