Edelgard kept her eyes glued to the horizon, determined to ignore the rocking of the ship beneath her. Crossing from Volantis to Yunkai had proved to be a harrowing experience, made worse by Edelgard's fear of the sea. She had never learned to swim, that was part of it. But another part, she thought, was that the utter darkness of the deep ocean terrified her, reminded her too much of the darkness outside her cell that she had stared into every day for so many years.

"Lady Edelgard, are you well?" Hubert said, appearing at her side. "They say that a storm is approaching."

"I am well," Edelgard replied, breathing in slightly as the ship rolled with a particularly large wave. "We will be in Yunkai in a few hours, and this entire voyage will be put behind us."

"That is true."

Hubert let the silence hang for a moment. Edelgard knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that he had told her so, that he had told her to finish the journey on wyvernback while he managed the voyage. She could have skipped the last week with one day of hard flying, and avoided all this discomfort and trouble. But Edelgard would not abandon her troops. She would suffer everything they suffered. That was the least she could do, given what she asked of them.

"Might I distract you with an amusing anecdote?" Hubert's voice held that rare note of true amusement and Edelgard smiled. "This place, men in Volantis called it Slaver's Bay. Did you not think that odd?"

"Not particularly. The Volantenes are insular lackwits who have no notion of anything that goes on outside their own black walls. What do the locals call it?"

"They call it the Bay of Ghis. You see, there was once a great empire here, an empire that rivaled Valyria itself. The Volantenes call it Slaver's Bay to cover up that proud history, to pretend as if it never happened."

"Insecurity."

"Indeed. I stumbled on a particularly interesting text, one that suggested that after winning the war with Old Ghis, Valyria adopted nearly all of their cultures throughout the empire. I wonder if that's why the Volantenes are so eager to downplay the history of their old rival?" Hubert chuckled. "The idea that the Ghiscari were the ones to civilize Valyria… that's something they could never allow to be contemplated."

Edelgard frowned. "Those who always look to the past will soon find that they have no future. The march of history does not wait for men."

"Yet? Was it too small a thing for you to upend one continent? Must you reforge this continent as well?"

"Are you doubting me?"

Hubert smiled and looked out at the approaching horizon. "Never."

*~-

The wharves stank of fish and dung when they landed, men and beasts crowding about at the side of the docks to get a closer view at their approaching vessels and the great scaled beasts that currently rested atop them. The walls and the docks were formed of crumbling yellow stone, replaced with clay or wood wherever the ancient stonework had turned to dust. One young man lost his footing and fell screaming into the water.

Over all the chaos reigned the Harpy, a monstrous statue that loomed above the docks. The beast had the torso and head of a naked woman but had bat wings in place of arms, eagle talons in place of legs, and a scorpion's tail trailing out behind. Edelgard wondered if such a monster had ever haunted these hills or if it was just a contrivance of heraldry. The only monsters in this place now were the human kind.

A band of armed slaves cleared the area of gawkers as a wide palanquin came forward, born by twelve strong men. Their employer had come to meet them directly, then, or one of his chief officials. Their crew strained and pulled to bring the ship into port.

A silk-dressed slave with a collar of gold stepped down from the palanquin to greet them as they came down the gangplank. "My Wise Master, Yezzan Mo Qaggaz, bids you welcome to the Yellow City, Edelgard of Hresvelg. I am Mekkah, the Honored Seneschal of his wisdom, and I will be your overseer in your time here in the Yellow City."

She curtsied, slightly, though it went against her every instinct to do so. "I must thank the Wise Master for the opportunity to serve." She paused. "Please forgive my barbarian's ways, Seneschal. I am a foreigner to these parts and know little of your customs."

The Seneschal laughed. "Oh, you need not worry about that, for Wise Yezzan is a great lover of all things foreign and strange, and he has already resolved to spoil you with entertainment and luxury in his pleasure garden. He even grants you the honor of a private audience with him, that you may tell him of yourself and your mercenary company."

Edelgard allowed her eyebrows to rise in surprise. Their employer had taken a particular interest in them, it seemed. She had not expected such a thing. Yezzan Mo Qaggaz had more gold and larger fleets than any of the other Masters. He was no petty merchant, no trader of cheap goods, and certainly not someone who should be troubling himself with a small band of mercenaries. Hubert sensed the strangeness of it as well. His posture had become tenser, more rigid. Not for the first time, she felt gratitude that her strong left hand remained by her side.

"We are honored," she replied, sure to not let her uncertainty into her voice. This was an opportunity if she played her cards correctly. She had no intention of seriously working with the slavers against Daenerys Targaryen, the Breaker of Chains, but Yunkai was an enormous, ancient city,. and the more she knew of it the more abley she could betray its masters to this conquering hero.

Unless this Daenerys offered only bondage by a different name. Then Edelgard would have to betray both the Wise Masters and their enemy. She was surprised by how little the prospect of fighting the entire continent scared her.

After a few more pleasantries, the party marched up toward Yezzan's pleasure palace, drawing stares at every turn, more than they had earned even in Volantis. The wyverns, of course, drew the most interest, and more than once one of the soldiers had to discourage a street urchin from getting too close to them. But it was not only their mounts that drew attention. Even among the diverse streets of Yunkai, two hundred pale-skinned Fodlani stuck out sharply. The Ghiscari themselves were a bronze-skinned people with hair ranging from black to dark red in color, every one of them wearing an iron color. The other races were harder to identify. She knew that the tall, pale men were from Qarth and that the white-haired merchants hailed from Volantis, but the rest were harder to place.

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert's voice cut in from the side. "I will never be far from you during your private talks with this Yezzan. Know that you may call on me to move you to safety in the case of an emergency."

Edelgard knew better than to forbid him from this. Hubert was more than capable of disobeying her orders when he thought it served her best interest.

The pleasure palace itself was a stepped pyramid built of the same yellow stone as the walls but freshly repaired and with intricate carvings and murals placed in the side. As houses went, it was not even half the size of the Imperial Palace in Enbarr, but still, Edelgard could appreciate the wealth of their employer. This was no mere merchant. This man was a Lord of Yunkai in all but name.

The pleasure garden was no less luxurious, with singers and harpists and all manner of entertainment. For her part, Edelgard enjoyed none of it. Slaves, they were all slaves. The grotesques, the bed-warmers, the performers, they all wore collars. Some were of silver, some were of gold, but no servant was without. Did some of them want to be there? Did they smile for joy, or for fear that they would be abused if they dared to be sad in their masters' presence?

The Seneschal ushered Edelgard into a private garden, where Yezzan Mo Qaggaz awaited her.

The man was yellow. Yellow, and obese beyond reason, stinking strongly of urine and shit. Even the whites of his eyes had been stained until they were nearly the same color as his unhealthy skin. He quivered and sweated in the heat, soaking his rich silks despite the slave attendants who fanned him constantly. Edelgard swallowed the urge to gag in the man's presence.

"You honor me," she said with a small bow. "I had not expected to be so distinguished."

"Please," the man wheezed, gesturing to a nearby bench. "Take a seat, and do not concern yourself overmuch with decorum... I have no time to be concerned with such things."

He was dying, she realized, and had been for a long time. "You wanted to hear of my mercenary company?"

"Yes," he said simply. "You may not think it possible, looking at me now, but I was once a well-traveled man. I have seen wyverns before this, flying off the coast of Sothoryos. I even tried to capture and tame one, but…" He laughed, but the smile did not touch his eyes. "I instead became sick with my current disease. When word of you and your sellswords first came to my ears, I thought that I must bring you over to Yunkai and learn of your methods," He sighed. "That was before this business with the Dragon Queen began."

"The process is not simple," Edelgard admitted. "The beasts have to be raised from the egg, and magic needs to be skillfully employed to ensure they grow healthy and strong in captivity."

Yezzan shifted slightly, wincing in pain as though the movement cost him. "Sorcery?" He clicked his tongue. "I should have known this would be required. The beasts of Sothoryos, they are not tamed by mortal means. What manner of magi do you employ? Shadowbinders? Warlocks? Firemages? We here in the East are not so unused to sorcery as the Volantenes."

The words were unfamiliar to Edelgard, who had been trained to think of magic as white, black, or dark. Would dark magic be shadow magic? But then, perhaps these were merely different schools of magic? She was overthinking her answer. She need not overexert herself in this conversation, "We have sorcerers of many varieties amongst our number, but the potion we use is no deep or secret art. Even so, a wyvern is never tame, not truly."

"Perhaps because they are so intelligent?"

Edelgard's mouth opened to speak and then closed again.

The yellow giant chuckled warmly. "You had something to say?"

"I merely thought it odd," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I would have expected a Wise Master to believe nothing truly untameable, no matter how intelligent." Her eyes went to the purple-haired servant standing by Yezzan's side, fanning him loyally.

"Because of my slaves?" He shook his head. "Yes, I suppose that is a fair thing to think. Many of the Masters, they will say as you have said. They view their slaves with fear and beat them and try to crush their spirit. Malazza and Paezhar care only for their soldiers and treat all else with contempt. Grazdan beats his slaves himself, and if none has done wrong he will find one to beat for the sake of his own exercise."

Yezzan clicked his tongue. "And they call themselves the Wise Masters. Pah! We should call them the Foolish Masters. Men are not tame, and you cannot make them so, not by torture. What man becomes truly loyal to their torturer? This thing, it does not happen. Perhaps, a slave might change their behavior, might do as you wish, but their spirit will always remain free. The lowest slaves will be as lazy as they can be without getting beat, the overseers will rob you blind when you are not watching, and the seneschal will smother you with your pillows."

"You are rich and can afford largesse. The poorer masters have to take harder measures to hold onto power."

"And how do you think that is? How is it that I became the richest of all the Masters of Yunkai? Because I starved my slaves and threatened them with death? Ha! I fed them well, I sent healers to them when they were sick, and if I had to trade them, I always sold their families along with them and got them a better position than the one they were leaving. You prove yourself to your wyverns? I prove myself to my slaves, and they serve me well in exchange. Look at me. I am rotting from the inside out and cannot move without twelve strong men to lift me. Could I rule by terror? Yet I rule nonetheless, and those who are mine will not let this Daenerys break their chains so long as they draw breath."

This conversation had become dangerous. She could feel her hand creeping toward the haft of her ax, her Crests humming with the expectation of a fight. He painted a rosy picture, Edelgard thought. His kindness was an affectation, something done to calm the masses, to prevent them from open revolt. It was an act, a performance, a lie that only worked because of the ever-present threat that if he died his slaves would be sold to worse masters. There were always elements like him in any degenerate society. Lords who were kinder than they had to be and were praised for it. How much better if there was no need for kindness at all?

"I am only a simple sellsword and I know little of the ways of slave keeping," Edelgard replied. She must end this conversation before she said something she regretted.

"Oh?" Yezzan said, "You do not find our conversation of interest?"

"I only am surprised that my Wise Master would take the time to explain himself to one such as I."

"One such as you? What do you think you are to me?"

"A mercenary."

The great Yezzan leaned further into his cushions and sighed. "When I was a young man I dreamed of seeing the wonders of the earth, of seeing Asshai and singing with the shadowbinders, of climbing to the top of the Hightower and pissing in the wind… but now, though I am still not old and my mind has not left me, I find myself dying and incapable of travel. What more can I do, than to bring the wonders of the world to my doorstep, and hope to forget death?" Tears sparkled in his yellow-black eyes. "You have let me see wyverns dancing in the wind again, Edelgard of Volantis, and so I must consider you a friend."

*~-

Hubert was well aware of the effect he had upon people. If anything he relied upon it, did his best to accentuate it. He was dark, handsome, tall, and his irises had no pupils. He kept to the outdated fashion of plucking his eyebrows, purely because of how it unsettled people. At the officer's academy, he had been constantly bemused by the attempts of Dorothea or Ferdinand to counsel him, to advise him on how to charm others, how to make friends. As if he needed such things. Perhaps it was better to be loved than feared, but Hubert had never had the time for it.

"I come seeking the one they call the Titan's Bastard," he insisted, leaning over the footman of the Second Sons company. "Inform him that the Black Eagles wish to speak with him."

The footman scurried off and Hubert found himself smiling. A million miles away from any recognizable landmark they may be, but he still had his power of command. His fingers touched the side of the tome he wore attached to his belt. He had that too if the need arose.

As he waited he considered what he knew of the man he was about to approach. The leader of the Sons was a giant of a man, half a foot taller than Hubert himself, with a great long beard of reddish gold.
The stories Hubert had heard around the city painted an evil picture. The man was a brigand, a braggart, and a fool of the worst description. Mero was his name, though most called him the Titan's Bastard, or sometimes just 'The Bastard.' He had taken the Sons, an ancient and honorable company, and turned them into untrustworthy blackguards.

The Second Sons had not been allowed inside the city, for reasons obvious to anyone who knew of their recent history. The mercenaries had cultivated a reputation of atrocity and treachery. Desperate men hired them to lay waste to the peasantry of their enemies, to commit rape and murder against an entire kingdom.

For Hubert's purposes, they were essentially perfect.

"The Bastard will see you now," a footman stated. "He said he'll have your head if you're wasting his time."

"How frightening."

The tent of the Bastard was a rainbow swirl of a thousand colors. Hubert entered to find Mero completely naked, sitting on the side of a cot where two girls, slaves, were attempting to retain their modesty by wrapping themselves in silken sheets.

"Aw, I was hoping it was that pretty little mistress of yours that was coming," Mero laughed. "Would have made the negotiations so much more enjoyable." The giant rose to drink wine from a golden flute.

"Lady Edelgard has greater matters to attend to than negotiations with a coarse brigand," Hubert replied. "As for me, I have matters to discuss that would best not be overheard by bedslaves." Bedslaves. The word tasted like sulfur on his tongue. Hubert had long ago consigned his soul to the eternal flames, but he would not consider himself to bear any regrets so long as he was able to pull a few such as these with him.

The Bastard pulled the flute of wine from his lips. "You heard the fucker," he said to the girls, "Get clear. I'd hoped to share both of you with a pretty Volantene wench, but that will have to wait."

"You've seen the host of the Dragon Queen?" Hubert said. He did not allow himself to watch the women as they left. They were unimportant and he needed his focus. The Bastard had done this on purpose to unsettle him, to make him stare and stammer and blush. But Hubert could easily ignore such things. He had eyes for no man or woman save his Lady.

"Of course I have seen her host," The Bastard said, laughing. "Ten thousand weak eunuchs wearing the same arms and armor that Ghis fought Valyria with thousands of years ago. They say the Unsullied do not route, but I would wager they still bleed, and bravery alone will not turn back our spears." The Bastard reclined upon a chair, still naked as the day he was born, beard flowing over his chest like a river of flame.

"Ten thousand is still ten thousand," Hubert replied, "Between the Sons and the Eagles we have less than a tenth their number, and as for the forces of Yunkai… I cannot imagine that fighting with chained feet makes for effective warriors."

Three of the Wise Masters deployed their slave soldiers in just such a fashion. Hordes of dirty, chained farmers carrying spears and shields. They would be slaughtered like cattle at the first crush then fall flat on their faces and die. It was a contemptible, cowardly strategy, and a useless one as well. Any competent enemy could simply outflank you with their light cavalry, and the slave soldiers would be worse than useless. Some of the other Wise Masters showed greater intelligence. Yezzan's soldiers had armor and were trained to fight. Paezhar zo Myraq had a hobby of breeding freaks and had a cohort of men in plate that stood nearly eight feet tall. Mallaza had hired skilled commanders from the whole world around to improve her armies. But even with these, the defenders of Yunkai who could actually stand their ground were less than three thousands.

"I knew you Eagles let yourself be led by a woman," the Bastard slurred, "but I did not think you were all little girls. Heh. It seems even I can be proved wrong."

He was drunk, Hubert realized. "I was wrong as well. I came seeking a man and found only a fattened pig. There is no point discussing strategy with beasts, and so I will leave."

"Go back to hide behind your girl general's skirts, then," the Bastard cursed, "Or have her come here and see if she can't persuade me with that pretty little mouth of hers." Mero stuck his tongue out and grabbed at his crotch suggestively.

Black rage boiled within him at this filth's insolence, but he could only smile, and say "I will be sure to convey your regards to Lady Edelgard."

He took his leave, passing through the camp like a storm. The Sons would have been a fine ally for a time, but they would find a different solution. Already the wheels of Hubert's mind were turning, considering. He spied Mero's lieutenant, Ben Plumm, and wondered if the man might be induced to displace his master. He could not imagine that the Bastard's habits did much to engender loyalty, nor did he think that the Sons would be so eager to fight the famed Unsullied that marched in the Dragon Queen's army.

The Black Eagles had not been allowed within the Yellow City either, but their camp at least was clean, cleaner than the streets of the City, even. Yezzan had given them a walled plantation house to occupy, a building the locals called a manse. They had food, and soap, and even a small river, though they dared not drink from it or bathe in it, for the river flowed out from the city, and the city was always rife with plague.

Edelgard was speaking with Ferdinand when Hubert returned. Both turned at his approach.

"Ah, I thought I felt a chill breeze about the place," Ferdinand said with a smile. "But I see it was only my dear friend Hubert." Ferdinand hated Hubert, and the feeling was mutual.

"Whatever are you wearing such a ghastly smile for?" His Lady was to the point as ever. "I take it the mission to the Second Sons was a failure?"

Hubert bowed, "No. Not precisely. I did not even get so far as to make my offer. The Bastard is a fool, and I will enjoy killing him."

Ferdinand shook his head and sighed. "You are no diplomat, Hubert. It should have been me who was sent."
Hubert chuckled darkly. Ferdinand had talent, but he was naive, sheltered, and lacking in composure. Mero would have made a fool out of him or provoked him into something rash. "It matters little. We can find another path forward."

"Indeed," His Lady stated. "The important diplomacy begins tonight. Queen Daenerys has sent us an invitation, and I will require both of your services."