Rhaegar
In the center of the solar in Maegor's holdfast of the Red Keep stood his new friends and allies from the east each with their own entourage of unsullied guards in spiked helms and sellswords and prized slaves. In the center of the company stood the combined force of the magisters, the triarchs and the Archon of Tyrosh and the wise masters of the slaver cities.
Here are my friends from the east, Rhaegar thought. The entire might of Volantenes, Tyroshi, Pentoshi, Ghiscari and others who he cared not know the name of. The men who stood here claimed inheritance from old and proud bloodlines. Where the Free Cities was new and young compared, the Ghiscari liked to claim that they brought civilization to this world. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori and Yunkish and Meereense masters were mongrels and vultures circling around the bleeding beast waiting for it to die so they could swoop down for anything they could grasp onto. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.
Yet the symbol and remnants of the Old Empire still endured there in the slaver cities. And they were here in front of him right now.
"My King," Master Kraznys lowered his head. His companions followed suit. "Me and my friends are more than pleased to be here at your service. We have brought our finest soldiers and creatures to serve at your disposal."
Kraznys's tongue was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Rhaegar understood him well enough without the need for a translator.
"Thank you, good master. They might prove adequate to my needs," Rhaegar answered. It had been a good suggestion to turn towards the east for support and the move has paid well off. His hand had done a wonderful job at turning the wealth and power of the east to his disposal.
The men they brought were no mere slave soldiers. The Astapori claimed that the unsullied was the best infantry unit in the entire known world and Rhaegar had seen them in battle, stalwart and formidable, when he had brought the Free Cities to heel. They would be a great asset in stopping Stark.
A double column of unsullied in spiked bronze hats stood behind the slave masters, holding round shields and tall spears. The tip of the spears caught the light of the sunlight coming in through the open windows and flicked in the low orange light.
They had been standing still behind their masters for a long time. If the Unsullied felt anything, they gave no hint of it. They could be made of brick themselves, the way they stand there. Tens of thousands had been marched out of their homeland on his orders; drawn up in several units and individual camps ready to point their spears in the way the slavers would point them to. They stood stiffly at attention, their stony eyes fixed straight ahead. They wore naught but a dark leather vest and britches, and conical bronze helms topped with a sharpened spike a foot tall. The wise masters had commanded them to lay down their swordbelts and any other clothes they might wear, so that the Westerosi might better inspect the lean hardness of their bodies.
Rhaegar was not new to them, for he had fought alongside them in the past. Most of the men to serve as the unsullied were chosen young, for size and speed and strength. He had seen them train which begun when they barely turned five. Every day the unsullied trained, from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training was much more rigorous than anything he had ever seen. Only one boy in three survives it, the slavers said, calling those who failed the training as a disgrace more fit to die than to join a fight. Among the Unsullied it was said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst was done with, for there was no duty that could fall on them could be as hard as their training. The king meant to see the truth of it.
The master from Astapor bobbed his head up and down, and pointed to the unsullied behind him with one of his hand while the other held his tokar. "These creatures are willing to do as you bid. They will be here fighting for you for day and night, with no food nor water as long as it is needed. They shall keep fighting until they drop if you should command it."
"Is that so?" the King asked. "I have need of such courageous men. There are those who would try to destroy my kingdom."
Malaquo Maegyr tapped his hardwood staff against the stone floor. "You can be sure that these men will be stopped at their tracks, King Rhaegar." The triarch of the city state of Volantis was a man old and weak, but he was a tiger still; and was very popular amongst the people of Volantis. Rhaegar had helped him get the seat years before and the tiger had kept his stripes true. That was why the King had went out of his way to enforce the rule of Volantis to the tigers after taking it off the hands of the elephants. He had not thought that the man himself would make this journey to the Seven Kingdoms, yet he should have known it. Malaquo Maegyr lusted after glory in the way Illyrio Mopatis lusted after gold. He had known all of these men before, from his visits to the cities of the east in his past. When he had sent Jon Connington off to get the support of the east, he had not thought that all of them would be here. Yet, here they were representing the wealth and power of their city to help him stop the Dragonslayer.
"Good," Rhaegar said. "I will need all of them in my quest."
"All?" Grazdan sounded wary. "Your Grace, did my ears mishear you?"
Cool green light filtered down through the diamond-shaped panes of colored glass set in the tall walls of the Red Keep, and a breeze was blowing gently through the arching windows at the sides, carrying the scents of city and sea beyond. "Your ears heard true," said Rhaegar. "I want them all. All of them as you have brought here, if you will."
While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Rhaegar turned his attention towards his Hand of the King. He could not quite make out all that they were saying, but he could hear the greed. He just have to know what they were hoping for.
Each of the slave masters was attended by two or three body slaves . . . though the best part of the companions were unsullied and sellswords and put fighters so as to show their power. Rhaegar met them alone in his solar; with only Jon Connington and his wife by his side. It is better if no one heard of the things that was exchanged here. Jon stood behind his chair dressed in his red surcoat with a silver griffin of Connington embroidered upon it.
"All," repeated Kraznys, who smelled of fruits and flowers.
"Aye," the King said. "How many men have you brought?"
"More than thirty thousand men," answered the Hand of the King. "That's not all of them though. We have more ships coming in every day."
"Would you like to add them to the ranks as well?"
"I would," Rhaegar said when the question was put to her. "All thirty thousand men in King's Landing, those who come by the ships and the sellswords and pit fighters as well."
Kraznys turned back to the representatives of the sister cities of Astapor. Once again they conferred among themselves, all perfumed fleshy men who are wrapped in tokars. It was the fringe on the tokar that proclaimed a man's status, Rhaegar had been told by the Ghiscari during his first visit to their cities. In his solar at Maegor's Holdfast, all three of the representatives of the slaver cities wore tokars fringed in gold.
"Your grace, you must know," Grazdan said, "these men come at a very high price."
"You can have your price when you have kept your oath to the King," said his Hand.
"Be that as it may, Lord Hand," Grazdan of Yunkai said. "We are lending you a great deal of support, both in flesh and material goods and it's only reasonable what do we get for such support. I am sure his grace understands it."
He understood it perfectly. These wise masters and magisters, a troop of merchants and cheese mongers. He would have been better off with a band of jakanapes. Rhaegar knew that not one of them had come here in the name of friendship like they claimed. Instead, he could see the greed for spoils plain on their faces. "You don't get any rewards if you don't earn it," Rhaegar said at once. "There won't be any spoils to be had until the rebels have been defeated."
"You must wait before anything could be handed to you," said Jon Connington. "That's what we agreed upon before we set sail. You lend us your support and we pay you back when you have kept your word."
It was Kraznys who finally announced their decision. "We have decided that these are acceptable terms, only for the sake of our friendship with King Rhaegar. You grace shall have all the men that is necessary. And more, if you wishes for it."
"Good," Rhaegar said. "With your help this war will be over in a moonturn. You shall reap your rewards in Westeros after that. Whatever you want from it. You help me in my need and I will make sure that your need is fulfilled. Anything you might want to have from the North or anyone of these rebellious kingdoms will be yours." He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. He could see the Essosi drooling at the offer, already thinking of the spoils they could take off of his kingdom. He could only wonder what they might actually want in return for their assistance. Bezzaro might know that, but the King had left the red priest to attend to his fires and his red god.
"Your Grace," Grazdon said softly, "Not to say that I question your word, but perhaps it would be better we should discuss and sign the terms in a proper contract. I am just reminding that so as to not have any fighting between ourselves when it was time to share the spoils."
They do not believe me yet, Rhaegar thought. And with good reason. "Anything that happens amongst your company or your men is your problem to deal with not mine."
"It is certainly, your grace," the wise Master said, with a contemptuous smile. "However, it is better if we discuss amongst ourselves and settle this in a peaceful manner instead of fighting each other for some remains."
"Very well then," Rhaegar said. "State your needs and wants and we will decide as per the contribution you have shown."
The Essosi conferred amongst themselves in low voices once again. Rhaegar looked at them waiting for it to be over with. It was the Tyroshi who spoke now. "Your grace, we of Tyrosh ask for the right to share all the goods and wealth and lands and holdings of these kingdoms we are supposed to fight against as we see fit."
The others growled in annoyance. "Tyroshi presence in the company is less than that of the other cities," said Grazdan. "It is too much for them to ask all of it for themselves."
Even Rhaegar saw that clearly. The Tyroshi were asking too much for what they were worth. The other representatives would never agree to it, especially the Ghiscari who brought the best of the unsullied along with them. He must have them. All of them for what it was worth. Rhaegar knew what he must do now, though the taste of it was to his liking. He considered long and hard and found no other way. It was the only choice left to keep them all appeased. "Give me all the men you could get," he said, "and you may each get a kingdom of these rebels to plunder."
There was the sound of indrawn breath from Lyanna beside him. Kraznys smiled at his fellows. "It is a fine offer, generous king. We can take whatever we see fit off these said kingdoms."
Rhaegar knew what exactly he meant. Lord Jon stared in shocked disbelief and Lyanna grumbled restlessly in her chair. "No." She said at once. "Rhaegar, you must not do this thing. Fight your enemies with dragons if you must, not with these slaves. It is despicable what these men ask of you."
"You must not presume to instruct me," Rhaegar said quietly. "Jon, remove my wife from my presence. She is tired and would like to retire to her chambers."
Jon bowed his head in respect. He crossed the room and caught his wife by the elbow and marched her out of the solar.
"Rhaegar, I beg you," Lyanna said. "Don't do this. This is wrong. Don't..."
"I regret this interruption," said Rhaegar looking back at the Essosi. "My apologies."
Reznak smiled. "Of course, your grace. Women are gentler when it comes to work of men."
Closing the door, Jon returned to his place by his side. "Your grace, perhaps we ought to reconsider-"
"No," Rhaegar said at once. "There is nothing to reconsider. All we need is the answer of our allies."
He knew the answer, though; he could see it in the glitter of their eyes and the smiles they tried so hard to hide. The magisters and masters of Essosi had thousands of eunuchs, and enough wealth to garb their buildings in gold for eternity, but as far and powerful as their reach was in the great wide world, they had never been able to extend the reach over to Westeros. And the Ghiscari lusted for opening a slave trade across the narrow sea. There has been slaves taken from Westeros before, but things were not exactly easy as getting away all the times. Last time the slavers tried their hands at trading slaves in Westeros, Eddard Stark had chased them down and dealt them a bleak defeat at the seas when Jorah Mormont had sold his prisoners to the slavers. They ought not have forgotten such disgraceful defeat as well.
Kraznys stirred where he stood. "Any spoils of our choice," he said in a thin, hard voice. "Including men."
Rhaegar nodded. He looked at Jon Connington to explain it to these perfumed pigs.
"Ten thousand boys all over twelve years, young enough to forget their families and have no other loyalties but to you. Plus Five thousand more each year. As long as you keep your word."
"The lands and wealth of these kingdoms are ours as well?" One of the Volantenes asked.
"That is our agreement," Jon said. "Take the gold if you'd like it or the slaves, but it has to come from the domains of the traitors."
Reznak of Yunkai looked down at the ground and sighed, calculating the offer like any other merchant might. Rhaegar eyed him calmly. "Is there a problem?"
"There are rumours, great king," he said after a moment's pause, almost afraid to bring the matter to him. "Even across the seas we have heard the legend of the Dragonslayer... of a King other than yourself. I would be doing my own King a disservice if I did not ask this question. Are the boys yours to give?"
"You really consider you fate better served by a rumour?" Jon Connington cut in, "or by the word of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, with an army of 100,000 swords behind him and the might of dragons."
The master of Yunkai looked at him and Rhaegar met his gaze with his purple eyes, burning like dragonfire, unnerving the archon for good. The man bowed his head. "I meant no disrespect, great King," he said.
"Any more questions?" the King asked. If there was anything, the Essosi had the better sense to not ask about it.
"Good," Rhaegar nodded. "Then it is done." He looked at Jon Connington and asked for the terms to be put down in paper.
When all the arrangements have been made, the Essosi had been as happy as Rhaegar had never seen them before. They quieted when the King stood up from his chair. "I want your men ready to march within a day," he told them.
"The unsullied are ready to march if your grace say so now," Kraznys said.
"So are the sellswords and other men in our company," the others echoed.
"Very well, then," Rhaegar said. "Split your men into individual units. I want the fastest of your horses and foot to make to the Riverlands to reinforce my son, Aegon. Ser Barristan will lead you to him. The others will take a voyage North to take the undefended lands of Andrew Stark. I mean to make him homeless and trap and hunt him like one would do a wolf."
It was a long, dark, windy night that followed full of signing papers and documents. Rhaegar did it all as it was presented before him, to keep the eastern allies happy. When that was done and he returned to his chamber he found himself in yet another argument waiting for him that day.
Lyanna was waiting for him in his chambers. "You monster," she finally said as he entered. "What have you done?"
"What I should have done in the first place," he told her. "These traitors do not deserve my mercy. I was generous and lenient with them even though they rose up in rebellion against me twice and I what did I get for it? More betrayal and treason. I have had enough of it."
"You are going to sell your own people into slavery," Lyanna shouted. "And for what, for the crown on your head and some throne where you can sit."
The anger burned so hot in him that he growled. "I am doing all of this for my family," he said, "for our sons. Do you want Aegon and Jaehaerys to die or to fulfill their destiny and save this world from the coming evil."
"This is not the answer to it," Lyanna said.
"I need the army more than I need these unnamed boys from some backwater, and I will hear no more about it."
"So what's next then? You are going to establish a slave market in the city?"
"You should know me better than that, Lyanna," he replied.
"No, I thought I did." She turned away and stormed out of his chambers.
Rhaegar watched her leave. The crown on his head felt so heavy upon his temple. He did not know whether If it was because of the day's dealings or if it was because of her words. If Lyanna thinks that he was going to let the slavers run amok in his kingdom she was sorely mistaken. Let this threat posed by Andrew Stark and his rebels be done and then he would show them that the dragon is no prey.