Chapter 173

I can count the pyramids, but clearing and tallying the land, houses, and treasures—how easy would that be?

Your Highness, for you the houses beneath the pyramids are too many to count, with as many people as chaotic as ants, but for a firewood seller each house is clear as day, each courtyard perfectly known—no house can survive without firewood, and based on the amount of firewood needed one can estimate the population; in short, it is certainly not impossible to count, nor impossible to clear. This is just selling firewood; there are many other methods.

What other methods?

Many, many—for example, dung—and all this information is firmly in the hands of those slaves; you can safely rely on them……

She reached out to stop him, halting the idea of continuing to press for answers.

What's in it for you to do this?" Especially when proposing such a bloody, cruel measure against one's own compatriots.

He stared for a moment, then fell silent.

If you find it difficult, you need not answer.

He gave a grim smile. "I am about the same age as that knight behind you; I know he is the Royal Guard of Westeros and will leave no heirs, whereas I am different—I have devoted my life to making my family prosper, so I married and had children, working hard. I virtually monopolized the firewood demand in eastern Meereen, but alas, things never go as wished; my wife and children left me one by one, and in the end I wound up just like that knight." He began to introduce himself: "I constantly think about why I have fallen to this state—I am more diligent than anyone in those great families, smarter than any of them, yet I cannot escape my own circle. I know this is not my fault but the city's. If I were younger and had realized these truths sooner, perhaps… many things would be different, but I am too old; I can only follow fate now, letting this city drain my last breath, my last shred of dignity, and my last trace of humanity."

Do you despise those great nobles?

I do, yes, but at first I actually envied those great nobles, thinking I, too, am of ancient Ghiscari blood—why have I fallen to this state? Your Highness, the bored nostalgia of those old men means nothing to you; I only tell you that after you easily took the castle, I finally understood who my true enemy is.

Those great nobles?

No, certainly not. I don't have a definite answer, but I'd rather point to those false Ghiscari gods. They barely kept this city prosperous for hundreds of years, but today they have finally rotted to the point of collapse. That you could take this castle so easily—doesn't that prove the point? You saw early on the cruelty of Asitabo and Yuankai, and you saw how Milin treats lives as cheap," he gathered his clothes, again assuming a respectful posture, "My petition today stems from fear that you will throw in your lot with the Green Grace and the steward Ruicinake, mingling with those false great nobles, letting a storm that could sweep half the world be contained in this little city!" He grew excited, "Your Majesty, the gods gave you dragons not to reward these Ghiscari fools, nor to breed offspring for them as tribute!"

His voice, like thunder, filled her, leaving her unable to calm for a long time.

Not bad. The gods gave me dragons not to do these petty things." She slowly rose, thinking of that ever‑tightening door, "Since the harpy's son dared to assassinate me, I have the right to retaliate."

Missandei, have people hang the assassin's corpse from the pillars before the Temple of Grace, then have others explain his crime." She turned to look at Gelacide, "I will also inform the Qarth‑born Zhaluo of the killing, so he can spread the word."

Gelacide nodded slowly, though he seemed somewhat unconvinced.

How would you deal with that false merchant from Qarth, Your Highness?

I have heard of his news—he brought thirteen ships, a number too easily associated with the Thirteen, likely a gift, but I cannot fathom why he would send you a gift. Your Majesty, do you know?

He has proposed marriage too many times; I doubt this is another one.

Since it's not a proposal, it's probably a surrender urging." He chuckled, "The Qarthi are a false people; to them only profit matters. Your Majesty, you shouldn't expect friendship from them, for you cannot give them enough profit, so they will inevitably become our enemies. If you take those thirteen ships, you can accept them openly—after all, they lie idle in the harbor. If you don't want them, you can drive him off now, to show your resolve to break with the order they speak of.

I suspect that accepting his ships would be proof of resolve in his eyes." She smiled, "He is my guest; I do not steal from my guests.

Your Highness, this isn't theft. As Queen of Meereen, you have the right to requisition any vessel lying in the harbor, merchant or warship—this is common knowledge in wartime: if they're friends, they won't mind; if they're enemies, it's practically a gift‑wrapped prize. If you feel uneasy, and if your gold is still sufficient, you can compensate at market price; he may be furious, but no one will say anything—after all, we haven't killed him, right?

This is the first suggestion you've made since coming to me," she said with a laugh, "I have no choice but to use it—hehe, I imagine Zhaluo will be angry.

Your Majesty, if you must act on the first suggestion, then I too must remind you that my first suggestion is to clean the pyramids, not to fuss over a mere thirteen ships.

My admiral doesn't even have a single proper warship now, and to you thirteen ships are merely a trifle. Ah, if he knew there were thirteen ships, he'd sell the pyramids to trade for them," the queen couldn't help but admire the person before her, "Cleaning the pyramids would free up much space—it seems we won't need to demolish the arena after all, hehe, at least Xicidala would be pleased.

Your Highness, please excuse my interruption," said Sir Barristan, "You just mentioned Xicidala—I need to bluntly say that he has already taken his luggage and supplies and left the city. This is the report my attendant Tuko Liho just gave me; I am waiting for the right moment to tell you.

These great nobles are nothing but wary fat rats," the new advisor laughed, "Your Majesty, you can then announce that Xicidala is a member of the harpy's son, confiscate his assets in the city. Those small arenas can all be torn down, but the largest one is the ideal venue to display military bearing, posture, and to proclaim the queen's glory; if you keep it, it will be greatly advantageous to your rule.

Xicidala is probably not the harpy's son; she could sense that. She hesitated a bit.

Your Highness, do you find this difficult?

He has often urged me to reopen the arena and to enliven the market as I wish, hehe, and the Green Grace and the steward have also proposed marriage matches for me.

Your Highness, in the storm about to erupt, even husbands, fathers, and sons can be swept away—what then of a mere unrelated, potential husband?

She was somewhat shocked by the new advisor's words, again feeling that the person before her was merely a polite, mild‑mannered round‑headed adult.

I have already accepted your first and second suggestions; allow me to reject the third." The queen's decision is final: "The storm is about to sweep across Meereen; since he has already walked out of the storm, let him go—henceforth his fate will have nothing to do with me.