Astapor's night was warm and sticky.
Jorah Mormont departed on his mission.
His silhouette quickly vanished behind the estate's heavy gates of black iron and red copper.
In the hall, an eerie silence settled.
Viserys's patience had clearly run out.
He paced irritably on luxurious carpets, those pale purple eyes flashing with greed and impatience.
"What are we even waiting for?"
He stopped abruptly, practically roaring at Lynn.
"Just use your dragon! Burn this damned city to the ground!"
"Burn those Good Masters to ash! All the Unsullied will be ours!"
"So simple! So fast!"
Lynn didn't even glance up, methodically peeling a blood orange from the Summer Sea with a silver knife.
Crimson juice dripped along the blade, pooling on the golden plate in a shocking red stain.
Daenerys sat nearby, watching Lynn's impossibly steady hands—her panic and unease miraculously calming.
"A king needs a loyal army, not beasts enslaved by fear."
Lynn's voice was calm.
"Loyalty? Ha!"
Viserys laughed like he'd heard the world's funniest joke.
"Power IS loyalty!"
"As long as my dragon flies overhead, they'll only dare kneel and kiss my boots!"
He pointed at the submissive slaves outside the windows.
"Look at them, Lynn!"
"They're born inferior! Obedience is carved into their bones!"
"Show them mercy, they'll think you're weak!"
Just then, a young slave girl in a linen dress entered, carefully carrying a pitcher of chilled honeyed wine.
She looked even younger than Daenerys, black eyes filled with terror and anxiety.
She moved slowly, softly.
Terrified her sandals might scrape the smooth marble floor, disturbing these new noble guests.
Her gaze dared not meet anyone's, fixated only on the ground before her feet.
As she approached the long table to fill Viserys's cup, Viserys suddenly slammed the table.
"What are you dawdling for! Idiot!"
Unable to blame Lynn for his humiliation, he vented all rage on this innocent slave.
That roar—like a whip—struck the girl hard.
Her body jerked violently, the silver pitcher slipping from her hands.
CLANG—
The pitcher hit the table corner, bounced, and struck a nearby exquisite Valyrian glass vase.
The vase was deep blue, its body traced with golden ancient dragon totems, gleaming dreamlike in candlelight.
According to the estate's steward, this treasure excavated from Valyrian Freehold ruins was worth a ten-man mercenary company.
CRASH—!
A heartbreakingly crisp sound.
The vase shattered.
Blue fragments scattered across the floor.
The entire hall instantly fell deathly silent.
Every slave present—whether fanning in corners or standing behind pillars—froze all movement.
They held their breath, heartbeats seemingly stopped.
In Astapor, breaking a master's precious item had only one outcome.
Being nailed alive to the Pride Walk's stakes, letting sun and vultures devour every inch of flesh.
The girl who'd caused this disaster was completely frozen.
She knelt on the ground, body shaking violently.
Those black eyes lost all light, leaving only pure despair.
She prostrated herself, lacking even the courage to beg for mercy.
Because she knew—begging was useless.
She'd receive the cruelest punishment, reminding other slaves of the price of mistakes.
"You... you damned bitch!"
Viserys's face instantly turned liver-colored.
Not mourning the vase, but feeling his authority challenged!
Before this Northern savage, before his nominal "ally"—a lowly slave dared embarrass him publicly!
"Kill her!"
Viserys pointed at the devastated girl, shrieking at Lynn.
"I command you! Kill her immediately!"
"In the cruelest way! Let her know the price of offending a king!"
His voice echoed in the spacious hall, shrill and mad.
Daenerys's heart clenched tight.
She instinctively grabbed Lynn's sleeve, purple eyes full of pleading.
She couldn't bear to see anyone die before her again.
Lynn patted Daenerys's hand, signaling reassurance.
Then, ignoring Viserys's roar—
He set down his silver knife, stood, and slowly walked to the kneeling slave girl.
His tall figure completely enveloped her, like descending divine judgment.
The girl shook harder, a foul smell spreading from beneath her.
She'd lost control from fear.
Lynn crouched down, ignoring the mess and filth on the floor.
He extended his hand—not to strangle her neck as everyone expected.
Instead, he picked up the largest blue fragment, placing it in his palm.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
His voice was soft.
He spoke in High Valyrian—the language of the old empire's conquerors.
The slave girl looked up blankly, her tear-stained, terrified face full of confusion.
"Look," Lynn held the fragment before her eyes.
"Once shattered, it can never be restored."
"But you—"
Lynn's gaze moved from the fragment to the girl's hollow eyes.
"You're still alive."
"A vase, however precious, is just a dead thing."
"Your life is worth more than ten thousand such vases."
He reached into his waist pouch, pulling out a gleaming gold dragon coin.
He gently placed that coin—enough for a commoner to live lavishly in King's Landing for a year—into the girl's cold, trembling hand.
"Take it. Buy clean clothes, eat a good meal."
"I'm giving you a day off. Forget today's unpleasantness, then return tomorrow and continue serving me."
BOOM—!
Every slave's brain in the hall exploded in that moment!
They stared at the man crouching on the floor, at that eye-blinding gold coin in the girl's hand.
Watched her face transform from ultimate despair, to ultimate confusion, to ultimate ecstasy.
Their lifelong understanding was completely overturned in this instant!
Mercy?
No, this transcended mercy.
Only legendary gods descending from heaven to save people from suffering would perform such incredible acts!
Viserys was completely stunned.
He gaped at Lynn, then at the slave girl who'd escaped death.
He couldn't comprehend.
A slave—lowly as dust!
How could her life be worth more than Valyrian treasure?
Has this Northerner gone mad?!
"You..."
Viserys pointed at Lynn, trembling with rage.
"Do you know what you're doing?!"
"They're just the lowliest slaves!"
"What am I doing?"
Lynn stood, turned, calmly looking at him.
Those dark eyes held no ripples, yet made Viserys inexplicably anxious.
"I'm telling you, King Viserys—"
"A life always deserves more respect than a dead object."
"THIS is the bearing and dignity a king should have."
"You should learn how to treat others well."
Lynn's words—like a resounding slap—struck Viserys's face hard.
Making that rage-twisted face alternate between red and white, spectacularly colorful.
Meanwhile, the hall's slaves, after brief deathly silence, simultaneously knelt down.
They pressed foreheads deeply against cold marble floors.
In this most humble posture, they offered their most silent yet sincere respect to the man who'd given them unimaginable dignity and hope.
Daenerys watched this scene, tears uncontrollably sliding from her eyes.
But this time—not from fear and sorrow.
From overwhelming emotion and pride.
She looked at Lynn's back, those tear-soaked violet eyes shining like the brightest morning star.
This is my king.
A true king.
Night deepened. This story in the estate hall—like a stone cast into still water—created endless ripples in every slave's heart.
"Did you hear? That lord from Westeros, he..."
"He gave a slave who broke a vase a gold dragon coin, and let her take a day off!"
"Is this true?"
"Absolutely! My cousin serves in the hall—he saw it with his own eyes!"
"He also said... that lord said her life was worth more than ten thousand vases..."
In dark corners, behind kitchen doors, by stable haystacks...
Countless whispered voices transmitted through the night wind.
Those voices carried disbelief.
A spark of hope spread among slaves.
Just then, the estate gates were knocked again.
Jorah Mormont had returned.
He entered the hall dusty from travel, face showing strange expression.
"My lord—"
He approached Lynn, bowing respectfully.
"I've met with Kraznys mo Nakloz."
"What did he say?" Lynn asked.
Jorah's expression grew stranger.
He hesitated before speaking.
"He says... he's willing to sell you all the Unsullied, including those in training."
"But his appetite is large."
"Twenty gold dragons per Unsullied."
"To buy them all—six hundred thousand gold dragons total."
"That's no small sum, my lord."
Lynn smiled.
"Seems this Kraznys has quite an appetite."
His entire King's Landing assets were only two hundred thousand gold dragons. This Kraznys was clearly opening his mouth like a lion.
Everything reeked of strangeness.
Obviously his target wasn't gold coins.
But something else entirely.
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