The City was asleep, as it usually was at this time of night. Yet Ser Barristan Selmy knelt in his chambers, the bed supporting his elbows, his hands clasped in prayer - the father to lend the weight of justice to his cause, the mother, for the ability to be merciful to his foes, the Smith, to lend aid to the engineers who repaired any damages to the infrastructure and walls while the city lay under siege, the Maiden, to protect his little queen wherever she was, the warrior, to aid the city's defenders, and crone, to light the dark path that he now tread. He hoped that, despite his advanced age, he would be able to see the walls of his family's castle once more.
When his prayer was complete, he exited his chambers, descended the Pyramid, and walked the dark streets, clad in his armor. He wished to give hope to the common people and defenders, suffering so from sickness and siege, to reinvigorate them and reignite their fire for freedom.
A pair of unsullied rushed by outside, bearing an unlucky comrade who appeared to have had his leg mangled by a falling brick or stone. The wounded man made no sound, which always felt strange about the eunuch warriors. They did not so much as gasp when even mortally injured.Harpies, he thought, sickened. They were at it again, attacking the queen's men and freedmen. He wondered how many the Shavepate's men had caught tonight, and if any Harpies had given up who had given them the orders. He was indeed rather reluctant to allow Skahaz to deal in the way he so desired with any Harpies that were caught, which were none yet, but even he knew that pain was often a greater deterrent than simply death.
"Old Ser?" one of his young squires had been looking for him, the voice snapping him out of his reverie. It was the dark-skinned one - Tumco Lho. "A messenger arrived for the queen in the night."
"A messenger?" Barristan asked. "Who would send a message, through siege and illness, into Mereen? And who would be mad enough to send it for the most wanted woman in the entire world?"
The squire shook his head. "I know not. Yet he is here all the same."
"Well then," Barristan replied. "I shall receive him in the throne room." With that he hastened his steps towards the great pyramids.
He had no issue walking, but the closer he got to the pyramid, the more ominous the feeling became. Some messenger had managed to break through the enemy's siege lines? Could it be a trap to seize the city?
No matter what this was, he would attend immediately.
The audience hall was filled with light, and at that time of night, few councilors awaited. Yet Tumco Lho acted the part of herald, and called in the messenger to meet with the Hand of the Queen.
The messenger was a man of medium build, with the almond-shaped eyes and straight hair of the Dothraki, but that was where the smiliarities ended. His eyes were a dark blue, his skin pale with undertones of yellow, a dark beard sprouted from his chin but did not show on his jaw, and his mustache was thin and finely groomed. He was dressed in a green silken robe belted at the waist with a sash, from which hung a quiver, a bow case, and a long, curved sword. Thrust into the sash was a battle-axe, with a narrow head on one end and a cruel spike on the other, prefect for driving deep in an enemy through his armor. Iron mail-rings could be seen from underneath the sleeves of the silk robe, and he carried a tall, pointed helmet underneath his left arm, while in his right, he carried a letter, sealed in blue wax.
Bowing, the messenger presented the wax-sealed letter to Ser Barristan, who inspected the sigil on the seal. A trident, though he could not recall where he had seen the design before. Barristan ripped open the letter, to find writing in Valyrian, and the messenger began to recite in that tongue.
"It has come to the attention of the King of the Southern Steppes that there is a nuisance in your land that has sprouted from his people.
"He has several demands: firstly, that every single Dothraki man, woman and child be gathered to present themselves at the Adhl branch of the Skazadhan by no later than two weeks after receiving this letter. Secondly, that all slaves be returned to their people. Thirdly, that all those who profess to the title "Khal" surrender it, or be handed over to his messengers, in chains. Fourthly, that the heads of every single Dothraki male will be shaved and the hair piled in a mound, the braids piled in a mound, and the bells piled in a mound.
"He threatens as well. War, if these are not met. He will burn cities to the ground and level mountains atop them. He will pull the stones from walls and knock down the frame of mortar that remains. He will kill your people by the sword, and leave many more to starve. All this, and much, much more."
Ser Barristan looked at the messenger incredulously. "Who are you even? You presume that you, an unknown people subservient to an unknown king would be victorious in a war against any foe you may yet face. I am not. We have not heard of your name, nor have we ever encountered any such Kingdom in the South of the Dothraki Sea. After all, to the South lies Lhazar, a poor, abandoned people without army or ruler, and beyond that, the Islands of the Jade and Sunmer Seas."
"Nay," replied the messenger. "There was no Kingdom in the South, but now they have returned after nine hundred years. Lhazar had a King in days of old, when it was lorded over by the freehold. It was populous, prosperous, and powerful.
"Then one day, all changed. A group, today you call them Dothraki, broke away from the laws and faith of their fathers, and began to commit acts of terrible violence. So our ancestors exiled them to the far north, where they built a city of mud and grass, and called it Vaes Dothrak. There they would live for five hundred years, in silence and leaving our bretheren in peace, until the freehold fell.
"Our ancestors did not foresee the doom of Valyria, and so when the great power that the Dothraki knew of had been culled, they began to turn themselves loose on our people, for they were without king or army. They did not remember how we had once been of one blood, nor did they care how our King, on the borders of the Grey Wastes fighting with his armies for the survival of all men, would react.
"An oath of vengeance was sworn, one to last generations. Kingly fathers passed to princely sons, and princely sons passed it to brothers and sons, in order that the oath not die with them. For four hundred years our armies awaited the day we would march back to our lands to return the payment for four hundred years of abuse of our brothers and sisters.
"The war has ended to the east; we have played our part, now the war will continue far to the west."
Ser Barristan took this new information in. With the Lhazarene under a new ruler, there would be fewer slaves flooding the markets of the west. Her Grace would surely like that, less slavery. But what was the threat that they posed? And, of course, most pressing on his mind, what lay to the East? He swallowed his curiosity and pressed on with his statesmanship.
"You threaten war with any lack of compliance?" Ser Barristan asked. "That is most unseemly. Is there no way that we could compromise on any of these demands?"
"On three, no," replied the messenger. "My King has sent only those demands which are of utmost import to the security of his people. Any threat to them will be met with force, in great volume and with great speed."
Ser Barristan considered his options. The city was under heavy siege, and another army added to the attackers would be something that could be disastrous. On the other hand, the Queen, if she were indeed still alive, would be furious at his sacrificing of her loyal Khallassar for a temporary alliance.
"I must deliberate this," the Hand of the Queen replied, carefully picking his words. He needed to bide for time, until, hopefully, the queen would be found and returned. "What I decide today can be overturned tomorrow. Hence I propose a new arrangement. If you will first aid in breaking this siege holding us, I am certain that an arrangement can be reached regarding the Dothraki and the title of 'Khaleesi'.
"You entered this city, somehow, despite it being heavily besieged. You must know that our enemies desire to enslave your people and others in this city who were once enslaved. Our queen has an antipathy towards slavery. She freed the slaves in this city and then the enemies came like flies to a carcass."
"All this I know, and more," replied the messenger. "There are new enemies approaching as well, a common foe we share again. They desire to take your queen for themselves, and to take your people as slaves. They come on great ships, armed as warriors, and fearing no death. They are dead and damned, yet they live on, sailing toward you with the goal of plunder and rapine.
"I will bring your words before my king. If he will heed your request, then we shall make for Mereen without delay. Hold your city, and do not open the gates for four days, no matter who knocks. On the evening on the fifth day, listen well, and should you hear the sound of the ram's horn, and you will know we are come. Then, lead your sally forth with all the men you can muster, and from two ends we will carve these foul creatures back to the hell the crawled forth."
The messenger bowed, then turned to leave. Barristan did not stop him. With the soft sound of leather on stone, the visitor left the audience chamber and descended the pyramid, disappearing into the night from whence he had come.