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Chapter 4 Part 3
=Sith=
290 AC
Astapor
Mid-morning on the next day, Astapor was under new management, at least in theory. In practice, while Viserys' Unsullied army now controlled the city, virtually nothing in it was operational.
The city guard was dead, leaving Spears to patrol the streets. A few fires broke out and needed handling, nearly becoming an utter disaster. That mess illustrated to Viserys how little initiative his new army had. He didn't order the Unsullied to deal with fires, so they ignored them in pursuit of orders. He had to explicitly order the problem dealt with, and that only happened at sunset last night, when the smoke was already visible from the plaza where he set up shop.
Keeping a semblance of order proved both easier and more challenging than anticipated. Many of the slaves simply huddled in a place where they were when the Unsullied stormed Astapor. Those were generally too fearful or stuck in sheer disbelief at the prospect of freedom, believing it a cruel joke.
Others went to gleefully loot whatever shiny thing caught their eye or to gorge themselves on food and wine. A significant minority went mad with bloodlust, murdering their way through all slavers and slaves too cozy with their owners they could get their hands on. The Unsullied had to cull that group following Viserys orders to capture the Good Masters alive, if possible, and to secure the city. Mobs of bloodthirsty maniacs weren't conducive to securing Astapor after all.
At the very least, that was what Viserys gleaned from the report that various Unsullied officers gave him once the city was under control. He still had to ask too many leading questions to get anything resembling a comprehensive picture of the situation.
According to the Unsullied, Viserys now technically controlled over a hundred ships of various types. However, it was anyone's guess how many of their crews were still alive. He got scattered reports that the heaviest fighting during the night was at the harbor and two of the pyramids held by Unsullied guards who kept serving their masters until the end.
"I want everyone who can safely move gathered before the city's walls before sunset so I can address them," Viserys ordered. "Make a schedule for patrols to keep the peace – no one is going alone throughout the city. I want a thousand of you on patrol, a thousand guarding the walls and the docks. The rest will be either resting or training until it is their turn to patrol or stand guard. For now, keep the Centuries holding the plaza in place and out of the rotations until we're done here."
Viserys didn't let it show, but he wondered how long it would be, if it was at all possible, that he wouldn't have to hold the hands of his new soldiers all the bloody time.
The Unsullied commanders saluted and scattered.
Hundreds of slavers, their families, and visitors who had the foresight to surrender packed the plaza surrounded by four hundred slave soldiers. Viserys walked to the podium's edge and looked over the city's former rulers.
"I am Viserys Targaryen. Astrapor is now mine," the Sith proclaimed. "Good Masters of Astapor, I offer you an opportunity to convince me that you are more useful to me alive than dead. As the new ruler of Astapor, your very existence represents a problem. To those you deem Westerosi Barbarians, the concept of slavery is anathema. Working with you, much less maintaining your status when I rule Astapor, would tarnish my family's name beyond recognition. So, please take the time until tomorrow to enlighten me on how you can be useful."
Viserys looked at one of the scribes who had been simply watching events unfold since the previous day. The man was a former slave of the Good Masters who owed the Unsullied.
"Good man, I have a task for you. Get some food and rest, then gather reliable scribes and writing implements. You will be recording what the Good Masters have to offer for their continued existence. Two Spears will escort you and your colleagues, ensuring no one bothers you."
The old man perked up and nodded vigorously.
"Are we truly free, your grace?" He asked in an odd accent.
"You are no longer a slave. I will speak with everyone tonight about our mutual future. If you are no fool, you should know that the rest of the Free Cities might not let us be. I have plans to ensure no one will be able to enslave you again," Viserys offered. "I would also request you take a list of all surviving visitors to the city and their skills. I will offer well-paid work to some of them and release the others so they can head back home soon."
He ordered the Unsullied to keep an eye on the tribute from Pentos for the time being and picked up Dany. They headed toward the inn where they had spent the night after arriving in Astapor. Once all the bodies were recovered and the blood cleared, Viserys would pick up one of the pyramids as his seat of power in the city. Until then, he could use a bath, food, and some time to fully decide how to approach the monumental task at hand. The rest of the day would give just enough time for the liberated slaves and any free citizens who survived the onslaught to calm themselves down and for the Unsullied to gather everyone outside so Viserys could address them.
On the way to the inn, the Sith sent a messenger to the docks to see if Captain Kaleb was still alive and in port. While the man was an opportunist to be carefully watched, he proved himself competent and respected by his crew. That was why Viserys was prepared to offer the man a lucrative contract to train ship crews and captains for his newfound navy.
=Sith=
Kaleb kept proving himself a smart cookie. He had kept his crew alert and wary, preserving them through last night's excitement. The Captain arrived while Viserys and Dany were eating. It turned out that the cook in the inn was a free man, a distant relative of the Innkeeper. They've been treating their slaves well enough that virtually everyone was willing to continue working in the establishment now that they were supposedly free. Viserys also got to listen to awkward attempts to negotiate wages, living conditions, and such, which was a pointed reminder that he would be swamped with work tomorrow. Tonight's address to the citizenry had to go well; otherwise, there would be no end to headaches. Hells, that would be the case even if everything went better than Viserys had any right to expect. At least he had some experience as a head of state, and before that, he ran a few worlds, not to mention military formations. He didn't want to think about what a monumental catastrophe would be if he didn't have such experiences to fall back upon.
Despite that, establishing bureaucracy and administration to run Astapor and then an expanding realm was fit to give Sith nightmares.
"Captain Kaleb, join us," Viserys was glad at the distraction his guest offered.
"Your Grace," Keleb bowed with a flourish. "Let me be among the first to congratulate you about conquering Astapor! You are a mere Prince no longer but a King with a city to your name!"
"You are smelling an opportunity to be buttering me this much after we spent months traveling together," Viserys chuckled. He perhaps owed Kaleb a bonus because his antics got Dany to smile. She was a bit withdrawn after her first lesson on utilizing the Force.
"That is for you to decide, Your Grace! I am your humble servant!" Kaleb grinned unrepentantly.
"You've never been humble, Captain. Since last night, I have a bunch of ships that need to be evaluated. At least some of their Captains and crews were less prudent than you and your people. They'll need replacing, and their replacements, training," Viserys didn't beat around the bush. "I will establish a naval academy to train sailors for merchant and military ships. When we have enough people with the right experience, we will also be training officers."
"Only Braavos has something like that," Kaleb's aloof bearing wasn't enough to hide his interest.
"And they took the idea from the Valyrian Freehold. It's not just the Great Arsenal that makes Braavos the premier naval power in the world. It is the training and expertise of their crews. I will have it replicated here. The pay will be without compare, and if you prove true, I might have an opening for an Admiral in the years to come."
Kaleb stared intently at Viserys.
"Astrapor is just the beginning for you, isn't it? What do you want, Your Grace? What am I getting myself into if I decide to serve you?"
"Come with me tonight when I address my new people, and you will find out," Viserys offered. "Until then, let us discuss what you need to establish the best naval school in the world."
=Sith=
Chapter 4 Part 4
=Sith=
290 AC
Astapor
By the time they had to go to the city walls so Viserys could address his new people, he reached a provisional agreement with Captain Kaleb. The man was going to become a very wealthy Shipmaster without risking pirates and storms for the foreseeable future. Between Keleb and his intact crew, they had an initial cadre for a naval academy, thought Viserys would need to provide suitable building, support personnel and everything else that was required for such a venture. Kaleb also promised to talk with the surviving captains and crews of the ships captured by the Unsullied. Reparations would be to get at least some of them on board with whatever Viserys was planning, which was expected and reasonable. It wasn't like the Targaryens lacked the gold to pay.
Tens of thousands gathered on the rocky plain before the city gates. Over three thousand Unsullied deployed around them or on the walls, providing security and herding everyone in place so they would pay attention. The garb of the throngs of people painted a comprehensive picture as to their station – from slaves condemned to die doing hard work to citizens and highly educated slaves like tutors, clerks, quartermasters, and more, ensuring Astapor functioned, and everything in between. There were at least a few thousand visitors, from merchants to foreign nobles, who survived the usurpation, eager to hear what would happen to them.
Viserys seized the Force and let his awareness dance over the combined emotions of the crowd below. He knew what he wanted to achieve and what kind of society he wanted to build as the foundation of his power in Essos. The trick was finding the right words to convince the crowd to follow his vision.
The Force was going to be invaluable in that regard.
Viserys took a deep breath, laced his voice with power, and spoke.
=Sith=
More than a few Westeros dubiously called Astapor "home" these days. A few were merchants, and others were sellswords or exiles who couldn't return on the pain of death.
Most of them were slaves, captured in pirate or Ironborn raids, then sold in Essos for cold, hard coin. "One-Eye" was among them. He had spent nearly seven years in the fighting pits of cities all over Essos. Slavers traded him like cattle, eager to make good coin from his fighting prowess.
Despite a disfiguring injury received from an Ironborn bastard that took his left eye, the Westerosi proved a capable fighter who simply refused to die. Fortune, good and ill got him this far. One-Eye had been fortunate enough to train with the best swordsmen Westeros had ever seen, honing his skills for years under their tutelage. Luck and orders from the best man he ever knew saw him racing towards Dorne shortly before the Battle at the Trident.
It was ill fortune and rotten luck that led Ironborn raiders to his ship, which cost him everything.
His Prince was dead. The dynasty he served was gone. His final task was left unfulfilled.
For years, he was lost. He had no name, nor did he have a use for one. He was a dead man walking, longing for the day someone would be good enough to end it all.
Instead, day after day, fight after fight, One-Eye honed his skills, killing everyone the slavers of Essos could throw at him. He butchered his way through the fighting pits of all Free Cities, seeking death that simply wouldn't come. That was how he eventually ended up in Astapor, where the Good Masters threw their best butchers at him. One-Eye kept butchering them until an Unsullied nearly gave him the release he so desperately craved. That boy didn't care if he died as long as he did as bid and ended the reign of the Westerosi killer.
One-Eye got a spear in the tight for his trouble and cut the slave's throat. He expected one last indignity – to be left to die of fever instead as a warrior with a blade in hand. After all, the Good Masters lost a lot of coin betting against him. In his experience, all salvers were spiteful creatures.
They didn't let him die. Instead, they bought him and had a salve healer nurse him into recovery so he could die earning back all the coin he cost them.
One-Eye didn't care for the commotion last night. He was burning with fever, waiting to die, one way or another. At dawn, his fever finally broke after days of delirium. The Westerosi awoke a free man in a city no longer held by the Good Masters.
The whispers of a Targaryen Prince conquering Astapor in the night convinced One-Eye that he was either dead and in the Seven Hells or he was still sick with fever, and this was a terrible nightmare, his broken mind tormenting him again.
Early in the evening, other freed Pit Slaves who respected his skill at murdering people helped him make his way to the city gates and the rocky plain beyond. Judging by the size of the crowd, everyone still alive after last night was here, waiting for something.
A figure in a black tunic appeared on the wall, followed by a slip of a girl in a simple white dress. One-Eyes' eyes went to their hair, gleaming into the rays of the setting sun like liquid silver. That was his Prince's hair. Despite the distance and his one good eye, the Westerosi stared at the pair, sure he was hallucinating familiar features. The girl could have been Queen Rhaella reborn, and the boy looked painfully like his long-dead prince. At that moment, One-Eye knew he was mad and would have been better dead.
Then Viserys Targaryen spoke, and Ser Richard Lonmouth was no longer lost.
=Sith=
"I am Viserys Targaryen. By my might, and by my words, and by the utter idiocy of the Good Masters, Astapor fell last night. By my command, you are all free, Unsullied, and common slaves alike!"
That proclamation stirred the crowd. Black helmets shifted, and thousands of Unsullied looked up or to the side at the man who bought them yesterday. The people below the walls moved uneasily, corralled between the city and Unsullied, allegedly without a master.
"Freedom is a curious thing," Viserys continued, as if unaware of all the trained killers watching him with unknown intent. "Most of you have only the clothes on your backs. Some have been born into slavery, knowing no other life. Others have been taken and torn away from everything they knew. You've lost your freedom. Those who had them, your families. You had no control over your lives or those of your loved ones. You lost your dignity. Most of you lost everything that makes a life worth living, and even the rest existed at the pleasure of others."
The Prince paused for a moment, letting the crowd absorb his words and wonder what he intended.
"I won't give you empty, pretty words. Such things won't feed you tonight. They won't keep you warm or heal your wounds and sickness. Empty words won't keep other slavers from collaring and chaining you before making an example of you for daring to taste freedom," Viserys smiled when fear and embers of grim determination gripped the crowd. "I am here to offer you a purpose. A future worth living. It was a strength that allowed people to enslave you. Power allowed me to seize command of the Unsullied yesterday so they could liberate you. I offer you a new path and a new life. I offer you strength so no one could chain you again. I offer you training so you will not be victims again. I offer you comrades at arms so you won't be alone, outnumbered, and easy prey for the slavers of the world. I offer you a nation to nurture and protect you. I offer you a way to keep your freedom and a purpose! I offer you freedom through shared strength and power! What say you, free people of Astapor?!" Viserys demanded, using the currents of the crowds' soaring emotions to hammer his message and intent at them.
It started with quiet murmurs: Freedom, Targaryen, Power, Freedom through Power. As more people picked up the words, the crowd soon chanted and roared.
TARGARYEN!
FREEDOM!
FREEDOM THROUGH POWER!
All around the chanting crowd, the Unsullied slammed fists holding spears into their shields in a continuous salute.