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Chapter 5 Part 1

=Sith=

290 AC

Astapor

Viserys decided to go with crowd-management one-oh-one. After his grand proclamation, he announced a night of celebration, followed by a day of rest and relaxation, before everyone got to work on the vision he promised them. Among his ulterior motives was buying himself more time to refine his plans for getting Astapor back into working condition.

He was glad that the gamble with the Unsullied worked, though it wasn't like it was a long shot. Left to their own devices, the slave soldiers would have been without a purpose after a lifetime spent being taught to slavishly obey orders. Viserys gave them a purpose. He did the same for all liberated slaves, and there was power in doing so for everyone involved.

In some regards, nothing changed from before he addressed the crowd. In others, everything did. If he played his cards right, these people would be his.

Meanwhile, there were certain surprises Viserys didn't see coming. The first came in the shape of a tall, scarred man who dragged himself to the front of the crowd before the city walls during his speech and fell on his knees weeping. Viserys would have ignored him as someone grateful for their freedom and purpose until his eyes briefly flickered over the man's face. Despite the missing eye, weathered skin, and other scars, the man looked painfully familiar. It took Viserys a bit of time to drag the relevant memories to the forefront of his mind – they belonged to the painful to think of days from before their exile. Then, the name and the image of a much younger, whole man flashed before his eyes.

"Do me a favor and bring that man to me when we are done. Do it gently and make sure he is unharmed," Viserys pointedly requested from one of the Unsullied commanders standing at attention beside him.

"Who is that?" Dany came out of her daze at watching the crowd and sensing their emotions.

"I believe its Ser Richard Lonmouth. He used to be Rhaegar's squire, then one of his allies in court," Viserys explained. "He should be able to tell us more about our brother and how the Usurper's Rebellion unfolded."

=Sith=

From up close, there was no mistaking it; that was Ser Lonmouth all right. He was also wounded and clearly hadn't been well in a very long time. Viserys had him stashed in a comfortable room back in the inn that remained their base of operations for now. He had requested that the Unsullied bring the tribute from Astapor there for safekeeping as well. In hindsight, deciding which pyramid to take as a residence and court would have to wait until after deciding the fate of the Good Masters.

Once back in the inn, Viserys requested a healer for Lonmouth, got the man into a healing trance, and busied himself plotting. One of the first things he had to do was meet with the city's administrators and get busy improving or recreating the bureaucracy, depending on its state. Getting a basic printing press up and running to make standardized forms for his government would be a priority, too.

The above came hand in hand with meeting all local merchants who were not partaking in the slave trade, quartermasters, and such to get a stock of what supplies they had in the city. Logistics was everything. Food. Water. Medicine. All other supplies needed for a city of Astapor's size to function – Viserys needed to know where to get them, what could be procured locally, as well as what was feasible to develop. He would need sources of revenue in the long term.

Then there was the military – both army and navy. Viserys would need every able-bodied man and woman to train as militia so they could protect the city. Then he would need regular infantry and specialists to back up the Unsullied… an officer academy for the army to mirror the naval one…. Viserys would have to do many full-time jobs until he found subordinates he could trust in any way, shape, or form not to betray him, not to mention to be somewhat competent.

While the former exile was busy making plans at a corner table in the inn, Kaleb sauntered to his table. He sat down, ordering himself a drink.

"You are thinking big, Your Grace, I like it!" the Captain congratulated him.

"You don't believe I am completely full of shit and are willing to give my offer a try," Viserys translated blandly.

"That's not how the Kings of newly conquered cities are supposed to talk!" Kaleb raised his hands in mock offense. "And, yes, your Imperial Majesty, I am more than willing to work with you. I can assure you, my crew will be on board with your ideas."

"Blame it on misspent youth dodging assassins, and memories of countless wars courtesy form my Targaryen and other Valyrian ancestors. When you've talked with the other captains and crews, get back to me. I need to know what I am dealing with and what kind of buildings we'll need for the academy. We might as well think of the future and go big in that regard."

"I'll start tomorrow evening when everyone has had time to sober up. You are thinking big, my King? What's your title now anyway?"

"I haven't crowned myself a King yet, if that's what you're asking. Viserys Targaryen the Conqueror has a nice ring, doesn't it?" Viserys suggested. He really didn't think about giving himself a title before taking Astapor.

"It suits Aegon better. Besides, you don't have two Queens," Dany pipped up from the corner of the table, where she was trying to levitate a wooden spoon.

"I have you, and that's more than enough, sister."

"Such a title has implications. You know that, right, Your Grace?" Kaleb pointed out and smiled broadly at the serving wench who brought him foamy ale.

"I do have goals, many of them," Viserys allowed. "But first, my hold on Astapor has to be consolidated, and I need this place up and running in a useful fashion."

Speculation danced in Kaleb's eyes. He was an ambitious man that was clear. Viserys wondered if he could earn the man's loyalty or if Kaleb would remain loyal to number one first and everything else second. Time will tell.

=Sith=

After a night of celebrations, Viserys was too busy to partake in; it was almost time to go deal with the Good Masters. He was honestly unsure how to deal with them. While their compliance and support would be invaluable, it came with so many strings attached it wasn't funny. The heart of the problem was that Viserys simply couldn't offer most of them as good a deal as they had before he took Astapor. Even those less well-off would have had the opportunity to rise higher under the old system and would have enjoyed benefits that simply wouldn't fly under his rule.

As a Sith, he spent decades serving the Sith Empire. Viserys was familiar with slavers. While some were in for the money and wouldn't skip a beat at working with a different commodity, for others, the ability to lord it over and utterly control the lives of people, to have the power of life, death, and more, was more valuable than any amount of wealth or other power someone could name or grant them. Either way, it might be better to keep the Good Masters under lock and key for the time being. At least a few might be willing to work with him. The others might be bargaining chips, and Viserys wanted to know what assets they might have beyond Astapor and if he could get his hands on those.

=Sith=

Chapter 5 Part 2

=Sith=

290 AC

Astapor

By the time Viserys arrived to take stock of them, the Good Masters of Astapor were much worse to wear. He did note that someone had actually been doing their work and had all the bodies removed from the plaza. Viserys had to figure out who that was so he could reward them and give them more work. The same was true for the scribe he spoke with the day before.

The old man had gathered a score of his colleagues, then set up writing tables, stools, and stacks of parchment so they could interview the Good Masters. That fellow was another one to watch, reward, and give more work to.

Viserys found the old man already waiting for him, sitting on a weaved chair and sipping lemon water.

"Prince Viserys," the scribe stood up and bowed. "I don't believe we were introduced yesterday. I am Old Theo," the man smiled crookedly. "Very late from Myr. My colleagues and I have included many interesting things for you to review."

Viserys looked critically at the man, evaluating his bearing and how he acted differently than yesterday.

"You haven't always been a slave. You haven't been one for particularly long, yes?" Viserys fished for helpful information.

"Years ago, my family in Myr was wealthy and on the rise," the old man admitted. "We lost a bid to join the rank of the Magisters, and it was our ruin. Our wealth melted like snow in the desert, and there were debts to be paid. I was more fortunate than my nieces," Old Theo's voice became forlorn. "They ended as pillow slaves in Mereen the last I heard."

That was fucked up, yet it offered possibilities. Viserys could feel the man's bitterness at what had befallen his family.

Viserys suggested, "I would appreciate it if we could speak in private when we're done here."

Old Theo raised a gray eyebrow at him in speculation and nodded.

"What do you have for me?"

"Many interesting things. How useful they might be would depend on your intent, no?" The Myrish scribe noted.

Viserys summoned a parchment in the force, earning himself wary and a few interested looks. The emotions of the scribes didn't precisely match their expressions. Some were outright terrified but managed not to show it. Others hid their curiosity better than others.

The Good Masters, on the other hand, flinched at the hint of sorcery wielded by the person holding their lives in the palm of his hand.

"Valyrian steel, no matter the shape or form, is always useful," Viserys tapped the parchment in his hand with an index finger. "Have the owner of these trinkets come forward. An Iron Bank account is even more useful. Saving for a rainy day, are we?" the Sith wondered aloud.

Meanwhile, one of the scribes looked at the scroll and pointed at a cluster of Good Masters. An Unsullied commander looked at Viserys, awaiting orders. Ensuring that the former slave soldiers showed a modicum of useful initiative was going to be a pain in the ass, Viserys concluded. Today's work would likely be even more irritating than he feared.

Viserys got to meet yet another Grazdan. Grazdan the Glorious, who looked anything but after spending nearly a day on the plaza without servants at his beck and call. His eyes looked like that of a cornered animal, and he appeared ready to bolt – a challenging prospect considering that most Hutts Viserys had the displeasure to meet might compare favorably in the corpulent department. It was a minor miracle that the man could move under his own power – he was that thick, and were those three chins he had?

There was decadence, and then there was this, whatever it was.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Good Master?" Viserys demanded.

"You need us! The rabble can't take care of itself!" Grazdan blustered.

Viserys looked pointedly at Old Theo.

"You know, not all of us nobles or former nobles in the Free Cities are like this, Prince Viserys!" Perceived through the Force, the scribe's form twitched with indignation at possibly being compared to this particular Grazdan. "This is something else!" Old Theo protested.

"There are things you possess that might be useful. I am still to hear something that makes you useful to me, Grazdan the Glorious. Make your case before my patience runs out!" Viserys demanded. At this rate, it would be a miracle if he left the plaza without drowning it in blood.

"I am a Master of Astapor!" Grazdan bellowed, causing his bulk to shake. Righteous anger and indignation overpowered his fear and common sense… if he possessed any of the latter.

Viserys raised a finger and slowly lowered it, guiding the Force to press upon Grazdan until he collapsed to his knees.

"Astapor is mine. It has no other master. You live because I allow it. You will die when I decree it," Viserys hissed, letting his temper show and reminding everyone listening and watching the truth of the matter.

He might have needed an army to take and hold the city. He didn't need one to slaughter everyone in sight.

"Who would have thought my twilight years would be this interesting?" Old Theo hummed to himself. "I've heard of sorcery, of course, but seeing it used in such matter? Would wonders never cease?"

"I have many wonders and terrors in store for my friends and enemies," Viserys admitted.

By now, Grazdan was a blubbering mess who shook like a pile of jelly. His fear was back, suffocating any other emotion that tried to surface within his heart. Said heart decided that the stress was too much and gave up keeping Grazdan alive as a lousy job.

That simply wouldn't do, Viserys decided when the Good Master clutched his chest and collapsed. He seized the Force and drew on the Dark Side. Chill spread around the Sith, making everyone in the vicinity shiver and take a step back. Viserys pulled Grazdan's bulk back to his knees with telekinesis and forced pure Dark Side energy into his chest.

The Good Master's seizing heart twitched as unnatural energies spread through it, rejuvenating it.

The trick about healing people with the Dark Side was simple – even in a world where it wasn't tainted and twisted, it wouldn't cooperate if you wanted to do it out of the goodness of your heart. Even at its best, the Dark Side was a selfish thing. On the other hand, if you wanted to heal someone so you could torture them more, no matter if it was physically or emotionally? Then, the Dark Side would be more than eager to cooperate.

That limitation had a straightforward and simple way to overcome: draining the life force of a victim or victims to properly heal someone else with that energy.

Grazdan squinted at his savior like a beaten dog.

"I haven't allowed you to die, have I? Do explain to me why I might find you more useful alive rather than dead?" Viserys demanded.

His little display had the Good Masters terrified. They knew there might not be a sweet escape from death for them if they provoked Viserys. That, at least, should make them more cooperative.

This particular Grazdan certainly was. He was more than eager to sign authorization papers giving access to his Iron Bank account. Grazdan also had some blackmail on his relatives in Elyria that might be useful in the long run.

"Congratulations, you are going to live for now." No one found Viserys' smile reassuring. "Commander, have a Spear get him back to his home, retrieve the documents in question, and keep an eye on him," he ordered one of the Unsullied officers. "Who do you suggest we deal with next?" Viserys asked Old Theo after a group of Unsullied dragged Grazdan away.