Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 311: The Liberation of the Unsullied II

The nobles of Slaver’s Bay reminded Viserys of the Tyroshi. While the Tyroshi focused on the flamboyant colors of their hair, the slave owners here poured their energy into elaborate styles. Hizdahr of Meereen combed his hair into wings on either side of his head, while Oznak sported horns like an antelope. Some of the slave owners in front of Viserys had similar winged hairstyles, while others shaped theirs into eagle talons, bear claws, and other outlandish designs.

Though Viserys found their styles ridiculous, he kept his expression neutral, mindful of the situation. After all, Robert is"coming", and he couldn’t afford to stir unnecessary trouble now.

The Good Masters of Astapor were also sizing up Viserys, wondering how to handle the negotiation. Normally, they’d haggle and inflate the price of the Unsullied, but Viserys’s recent behavior suggested he might not notice such details. Still, they knew better than to underestimate him.

Astapor lay to the east, and Viserys had chosen a port to the west to make his landing. His dragons had perched on Astapor’s battlements, and the yellow dragon spread its wings, casting a massive shadow that sent ripples of unease through the gathered crowd.

As both sides prepared to speak, a small figure suddenly darted forward, knocking into Kraznys.

"It's Missandei,” someone murmured, surprised.

Kraznys was caught off guard, completely unprepared for his young translator’s actions. He froze, as did the other slave owners, who had no idea what was happening.

Is this an assassin? The thought briefly crossed the minds of a few, but they quickly realized it was absurd.

Missandei’s feet stumbled as she dashed down the stairs, her body pitching forward. She hit the ground hard, her face scraping along the stone floor. When she rose, the right side of her face was smeared with dust, a thin line of blood trickling from a fresh cut.

The sight was so unexpected, it left everyone in stunned silence. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the small girl, their shock palpable.

With wide, golden eyes, Missandei lifted her gaze to Viserys and, in the common tongue, cried out, "Your Grace, the Good Masters want to kill you! You must leave!"

Her high-pitched, frantic voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a blade, slashing through the façade of pleasantries that had been holding the scene together.

Dead silence followed.

The waves crashing behind them and the flags flapping in the wind were the only sounds that kept time from seeming frozen.

Viserys, momentarily stunned, just stared at Missandei, unmoving. Her desperation mounted as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Your Grace! Go! They... they..." Missandei's voice faltered as she suddenly began to cough violently, struggling to finish her sentence in Valyrian. Her small frame shook with the effort, and she couldn’t get the words out.

"Take her away! Don’t let her harm His Grace!" Kraznys finally snapped out of his shock, barking orders at the guards behind him.

The slave owners' hearts sank. None of them had expected this. If Viserys caught wind of their true intentions, the future of Slaver’s Bay could be in jeopardy within two, maybe three years. Annihilation loomed over them.

The warlock accompanying the slave owners also sensed the shift. Though things had taken a sudden, chaotic turn, he remained composed. After all, he had foreseen Viserys’s eventual defeat—this was just a momentary disturbance.

Meanwhile, Dany's eyes locked onto Missandei’s. The girl’s golden eyes were filled with sincerity, and Dany knew at once she wasn’t an assassin. She must have discovered something important.

(This is a kind child... but how do I save her?) Dany’s mind raced. If they pretended not to understand and allowed the slavers to take Missandei away, she would surely be executed. But if they intervened and kept her, everything they had worked for over the past four or five months in Slaver’s Bay would unravel.

It was a no-win situation. Viserys’s plans for slavery reforms would also be jeopardized, and countless lives could be lost.

For a moment, Dany was paralyzed, caught between two impossible choices. Her eyes shifted to Viserys, hoping he would find a solution.

The others remained frozen, uncertain how to handle the delicate situation unfolding before them.

At that moment, the two guards Kraznys had sent were sprinting toward Missandei, ready to execute her in seconds. Viserys looked down at the small girl lying on the ground and sighed inwardly.

Little translator, little translator, you’ve just handed me a difficult task. I was all set to play my part with the slave owners, but you had to throw a wrench in the plan.

Just as one of the guards reached Missandei, his hand brushing her shoulder, Viserys stepped forward swiftly. Grabbing her by the back of the neck, he lifted her off the ground with ease. At less than ten years old and weighing no more than forty or fifty pounds, Missandei felt like a feather in his hands.

Dangling helplessly like a rabbit, Missandei's legs kicked in the air. She wondered if Viserys had heard her warning or if it had all been for nothing.

Everyone’s attention snapped to Viserys—Dany, Jorah, Young Connington, and the slave owners of Astapor—all waiting to see what he would do next.

Taking a deep breath, Viserys spoke with thinly veiled frustration, his tone dripping with dissatisfaction. "Good Masters of Astapor, is this the kind of slave you intend to sell me?"

The tension was palpable as he continued, "My army already includes nearly 2,000 Unsullied, acquired through gifts and trade. It is their renowned skill in battle that brought me here, across thousands of miles, to replenish my ranks."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Yet this is the second time a slave from Slaver’s Bay has privately warned me of a plot against my life. I came here to buy Unsullied, not to involve myself in your petty internal disputes! And if your Unsullied are as unreliable as this, I will have to reconsider the entire purchase."

Kraznys's face drained of color. "Your Grace Viserys, I assure you, this is an isolated incident. No one can match our Unsullied in combat!" he stammered, his nervousness palpable. The other slave owners chimed in, their voices tinged with desperation.

"Yes, Your Grace, please allow us the chance to identify who is sabotaging our friendship!" one of them added hurriedly.

He doesn’t believe me, Missandei thought, a cold dread sinking into her heart. Her hopes crumbled. She feared her bold actions might have doomed her brothers, Marselen, Mossador and the others.

But behind Viserys, Hoyt’s eyes gleamed with admiration. He saw what Viserys was doing—turning a sudden, chaotic situation to his advantage. Viserys had not only diffused the young translator’s outburst but had also positioned himself in control of the negotiations.

"Your Grace, please hand her over to us," Kraznys said, his voice sharp with frustration, pointing at Missandei. "We will find the traitor meddling in our affairs!"