Next morning.
Punishment Plaza.
Rows of bare-chested Unsullied stood in neat formation like lifeless clay figures.
They gripped spears and shields, wearing pointed bronze helmets, revealing only hollow, numb eyes.
Before them, a man fat as a meatball reclined on a luxurious sedan chair carried by four slaves.
Kraznys mo Nakloz.
One of Astapor's wealthiest Good Masters, and the largest Unsullied supplier.
He wore a voluminous tokar robe, greasy skin gleaming in sunlight, carefully groomed black-and-red braids dangling from his bald head.
Beside him stood a thin figure.
Missandei.
Lynn's party, led by Jorah Mormont, slowly entered the plaza.
Viserys walked ahead, head high, trying to project kingly bearing.
But those eyes unconsciously shifting before the Unsullied ranks betrayed his inner cowardice.
Daenerys followed closely behind Lynn, those beautiful violet eyes full of disgust for this sinful place.
Kraznys lazily lifted his eyelids, small eyes buried in layers of fat scanning Lynn's party.
When his gaze fell on Daenerys, he showed undisguised lechery and contempt.
He spoke in crude Ghiscari to another Good Master beside him.
"Look at that silver-haired little bitch. Skin's pretty white—wonder if she can take a pounding in bed."
The nearby Good Master erupted in sleazy laughter.
They assumed these Western savages couldn't understand noble Ghiscari.
However, they didn't know—Daenerys had grown up exiled in the Free Cities.
To survive, she'd learned multiple languages.
She heard every insulting word clearly.
Her cheeks instantly flushed red, hand gripping Lynn's sleeve tightening.
Lynn acted as if nothing happened, just gently patting Daenerys's hand, signaling patience.
"Noble Master Kraznys."
Jorah Mormont stepped forward, speaking fluent Valyrian.
"My master, Lord Lynn from Westeros, has come to discuss purchasing Unsullied."
Kraznys yawned, lazily waving his hand.
Missandei immediately understood, stepping forward to translate in Common Tongue.
"Good Master Kraznys welcomes you all. He's pleased to show you his most perfect creations."
"Tell him I have no interest in his eunuchs."
Viserys said impatiently from the side.
"I just want to know when he'll hand over the army and get out of my sight."
Kraznys watched Viserys's arrogant expression, asking Missandei in Ghiscari: "What's that silver-haired pretty boy barking about?"
Missandei's body stiffened, but she translated expressionlessly.
"This lord praises the Unsullied's strength and discipline. He's eager to possess them."
Daenerys couldn't stand it anymore.
She stepped forward to speak, but Lynn held her back.
Lynn looked at her, gently shaking his head.
Then he walked forward, gaze passing over those fat Good Masters, falling directly on those statue-like Unsullied.
"I hear you're Astapor's best slaver."
Lynn finally spoke—in pure High Valyrian, his accent even more standard than any Good Master present.
Kraznys's smile froze.
He hadn't expected this seemingly unremarkable Northern savage to speak the old empire's language.
"I hear you want my dragon."
Lynn's next sentence plunged the entire scene into deathly silence.
Kraznys's fat face twitched, small eyes flashing with exposed irritation.
But he quickly regained composure, face resuming a merchant's false smile.
"My lord, you jest." Missandei translated timely. "Dragons are mythical creatures, priceless treasures—how could they be traded?"
"Really?" Lynn smiled.
"But I heard you boasted to everyone in council that you'd trade eight thousand eunuchs for a real dragon."
Kraznys's expression completely changed.
He stared at Lynn, as if trying to see what else he knew from that calm face.
"In that case, let's not waste time."
Lynn's gaze swept across the entire plaza—those eight thousand trained Unsullied, and distant boys still in training.
"All the Unsullied, including those still training."
"I'll take them all."
Lynn didn't even glance at Kraznys.
His gaze only fell on those eight thousand Unsullied.
They stood bare-chested, bronze skin gleaming with sweat under scorching sun.
On their chests—branded vicious harpy marks.
The brand of slavery.
"Look at them!"
Seeing Lynn observe his "merchandise," Kraznys showed a smug smile.
He pointed his ivory whip handle at the Unsullied, continuing to boast to Missandei in Valyrian.
"You'll be satisfied."
"I swear, this is the best decision you'll ever make."
"Perfect killing machines!"
"No fear, no mercy, no pain!"
"They'll kill swaddled infants for their master, eat companions' corpses without hesitation!"
"They don't even have names—only numbers!"
"This prevents useless emotions!"
Missandei lowered her head, translating this as:
"The Good Master says the Unsullied are the world's most loyal warriors. They'll obey your every command."
Lynn's gaze swept across those numb faces.
He saw it.
Beneath that deathly numbness—suppressed sparks.
Hatred, unwillingness, longing.
Last night, Jorah Mormont scattered those coins, that phrase "your lives are worth more than pyramids"—like tiny kindling cast into this wasteland already piled with dry wood.
Now, it only needed wind.
"Tell him—"
Lynn finally spoke.
"I'm interested in all his Unsullied."
"I accept this trade."
Hearing Missandei's translation, Kraznys's fat face squeezed together in laughter.
"Good! Seems this Westerosi has some vision!"
He tapped his belly with the whip handle.
"Tell him—eight thousand Unsullied, with their weapons and equipment, all his!"
"I only want one thing."
Kraznys raised his stubby finger, pointing at the sky.
The meaning—self-evident.
Daenerys looked nervously at Lynn, palms sweating.
Lynn ignored Viserys, just looking at Kraznys, slowly nodding.
"Agreed."
One word—the atmosphere instantly froze.
Missandei frowned.
Daenerys's face lost all color.
Jorah Mormont pondered.
And Kraznys—as if hearing the most beautiful music—small eyes bursting with greedy ecstasy!
He succeeded!
He actually tricked a dragon with a bunch of slaves!
"Wise decision! Very wise!"
Kraznys nearly danced with joy.
He eagerly untied a pure gold whip from his waist, embedded with harpy statues.
"This is the commander's whip!"
"Take it, and these Unsullied are completely yours!"
He handed the whip toward Lynn, eyes flashing with cruel killing intent.
Once the other party took the whip and handed over the dragon, he'd immediately order these eight thousand Unsullied to tear these foolish Westerosi to pieces!
Lynn didn't take the whip.
He stepped forward, walking to that Unsullied Jorah Mormont mentioned—the one called "Grey Worm."
He took the cold spear from Grey Worm's hands.
"Too light."
Lynn weighed the spear, shaking his head.
Kraznys froze, looking at him uncomprehendingly.
"But for killing pigs, it should suffice."
Lynn finished speaking, turning around.
He didn't look at Kraznys, but at those eight thousand Unsullied, speaking in a language no one expected—word by word.
High Valyrian.
And purer, more ancient than that slaver Kraznys—carrying the majesty and pride of the old empire's conquerors.
"Dovaogēdys! Naejot memē bātās! Kelītīs!"
(Unsullied! Cease your patrol! Attention!)
Kraznys's smile instantly froze.
Missandei's head snapped up, black eyes full of shock.
Viserys looked like he'd seen a ghost, mouth gaping, unable to utter a word.
And those eight thousand statue-like Unsullied—hearing this command—almost instinctively, uniformly withdrew spears, feet together, spear butts heavily striking the ground.
"THUD—!"
Eight thousand synchronized strikes merged into one dull roar.
As if Astapor's very ground trembled!
Their movements were no longer numb obedience.
Those faces filled with suppressed fury.
"You... how do you..."
Kraznys pointed at Lynn, fat face violently trembling with fear.
He finally realized—before him wasn't a lamb for slaughter.
But a dragon in sheep's clothing!
Lynn ignored him.
He just raised the spear, using that ancient, majestic language, issuing a thunderous proclamation to eight thousand warriors.
"Āeksio zōbrī, sedāria zōbrī, prūmī sytivī. Kesys tubī, se gōvilī."
(Lord of Gold Dragons, Consort of Queens, makes this promise. Today, I grant you freedom.)
Freedom!
That word—like thunder—exploded in every Unsullied's mind!
They stared blankly at that man standing before them, holding a spear.
"Jentys sy, ziksoso udlissi. Iksoso zentys sy."
(You are warriors, not slaves.)
"Skoriot gaomā, konir sagon zentys sy."
(What will you fight for? For those who see you as livestock?)
Lynn's spear pointed at the now-colorless Kraznys.
"Ynsyt gaomā, konir sagon ziksoso tubī daor."
(Or for those willing to bleed for you?)
"Jenti, ziksoso zentys, gaomā daor."
(Fight for freedom, not slavery!)
Lynn's voice echoed across the entire plaza.
Those eight thousand Unsullied's breathing grew heavy.
The brands on their chests seemed to burn.
Hands gripping spears—veins bulging.
Those hollow eyes—flames suppressed for countless years—in this moment, completely ignited!
Grey Worm moved first.
He threw down his shield, stepped forward, kneeling on one knee before Lynn.
"Dārys, iksan zentys."
(My king, I am a free man.)
With the first came the second, third...
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Thousands of Unsullied threw down shields symbolizing slavery and obedience.
They uniformly knelt on one knee, offering their first loyalty as "free men" to the man who gave them rebirth and hope!
That scene—enough to make heaven and earth lose color!
Daenerys watched this scene, tears already blurring her vision.
Her king—without using dragons, without slaughter.
With just a few words, he conquered this city's most powerful army.
No, not conquest.
Liberation!
"No... impossible..."
Kraznys collapsed on the ground, mouth emitting desperate wails.
"You damned eunuchs! You dare betray me!"
"Kill them! I command you! Kill them!"
However, not one Unsullied obeyed his command.
They just looked at this master who once treated them as playthings—with endless killing intent.
Lynn slowly walked before Kraznys, returning Grey Worm's spear to him.
"The trade is complete, Good Master."
Lynn took from Kraznys that golden whip symbolizing command authority.
"Eight thousand Unsullied now belong to me."
"As for that dragon..."
Lynn raised his head, looking at the sky.
A dragon's roar piercing the heavens came from the horizon!
Winter's massive body—blocking out the sky—broke through clouds, appearing above Astapor!
Three enormous heads cast death's shadow.
That soul-freezing terrifying dragon might instantly enveloped the entire plaza!
"It's here too."
Lynn looked at Kraznys, face showing a slight smile.
"Now, let's discuss the other half of the price you owe."
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