Chapter 200

Tyrion felt his neck grow cold, and his limbs trembled.

In the distance, the rebel slaves' swords gleamed in the firelight, and he thought the defeated troops nearby might slit his throat at any moment, then cut off his manhood and hang it as an offering to the great R'hllor.

R'hllor probably wouldn't like that little trinket, he thought; it didn't even like the slave master's head that Yezzan had sent it, a head still dripping with the dragon king's blood! Yet R'hllor still gave them a mocking defeat.

It was truly tragic, and deeply regrettable.

After several days of his networking and hard work, the slaves finally resolved to rebel. The first places to rise were the wine shop, the blacksmith guildhall, the silk court, and the fish market street. Although the uprisings occurred at different times, once they began they swept through every part of the outer city, seizing the city watch headquarters and the council chamber, and there they captured the elephant faction's Nasir, while another magistrate whose name he'd forgotten fled in panic; only then did he dare set foot on the street.

The enraged slaves tore Nasir to pieces on the spot, and his flesh was thrown into the bay to feed the fish.

At that time, Tyrion thought that with the slaves alone he could free all of Volantis for the queen, delivering its navy and ships intact into her hands—until they broke into the mint and the spice market.

Under the assault of the slave rebel army, the outer city's watchmen all scattered, and the soldiers tasked with keeping order defected en masse.

Flames burned in the streets, and cries of weeping echoed everywhere.

He pretended that it was only the slave masters who were wailing.

It went too smoothly; they crossed the Long Bridge, seized the beachhead, quickly routed and killed the guards stationed at the mint and the spice market, stabbed passing merchants to death on the walls and impaled them on door panels, and kicked the heads of those slave masters who had just been strutting about like a ball.

He heard women wailing, and he didn't want to think at all about why they were crying.

War is the unleashing of a beast. Once the beast is loosed, everyone knows what it will do.

Amid the women's wailing, the soldiers lost their objective, throwing open the Black Wall's gate to let in gold and spices laden with Volantis's greatest wealth.

The chaotic slave soldiers looted the mint; only when they linked up with another slave rebel force did he learn that they had also looted the spice market.

He neither knew what other places those troops had occupied nor bothered to find out.

The slaves and profiteers, dazzled by the seized gold and vital supplies, turned the uprising into a raid; the army that had been organized to march on the Black Wall became a band of wanton looters, and no one could command them.

A rabble.

When they finally remembered what mattered most, the slaves inside the Black Wall who had answered the revolt had already been crushed by the forces the slave masters had organized, and thus the goal of seizing all of Volantis in one blow suffered a setback.

The foolish Benno Plutt said nothing about the situation; when they reached the temple, he seemed still puzzled that his god had not warned him in advance of so great a matter; and his red-robed priests were even more foolish, actually advocating negotiation with the Volantine nobles inside the Black Wall, thereby wasting the last opportunity.

Thinking of this, Tyrion felt sheer heartbreak.

Inside the Black City, the cavalry organized by Benniscuò opened the Black Wall's gate, assaulted Trystano's center, and the merchants outside likewise organized guards to begin cutting down the chaotic slaves.

He could only thank the Seven Gods, thank R'hllor, thank the heavens' deities, for letting him be born a dwarf, unharmed beneath the cavalry's charging hooves, and then miraculously he managed to mount a lone horse.

The great opportunity slipped away between his fingers, and all the hard work of dozens of days came to nothing… Ah, it's best not to look at those innocents who died unjustly; best not to think of those who waited desperately for aid inside the Black Wall, only to have their heads cut off and displayed by the slave masters; best not to think of the weeping and wailing amid the firelight.

Damn Arian and Trystano, they should have heeded Yezzan's advice instead of that of the tall red‑robed priest Marsthor. They ought to have slain the insurer Martius, not listened to his claim that he could rally men to open the Black Wall. Hey, what rich person sides with slaves, even if his mother is a sex slave, they should realize this vile merchant thinks his blood is noble from his father.

Idiots! Idiots!

Moreover, damn the red‑haired Yartis and black‑armed Spinset; Yezzan had painfully held them back, letting them endure a spell— they had already endured years, and a few more tens of days would let them await the queen's great host… Yet when word came that the queen had burned Qeyrs, these muscular slaves felt they could alone offer the queen a great gift, could no longer restrain their passion, and first raised the rebel banner at the wine shop.

The rich wine smell still makes his nose itch even now. He thinks Yartis and Spinset are under the control of alcohol.

Had he known they were such people, perhaps he ought not to have contacted such slaves.

Now then, in what state should they go to meet the queen on her western campaign?

She mounted her dragon, lifted the siege on Meereen of the Yunkai alliance and the Volantis alliance; even the navy blockading Meereen began to scatter. Beneath her sweeping wave, countless cities in the far east have been utterly destroyed by the rising slaves, those cities that had stood for a thousand years and the bloodlines that had ruled for a thousand years now ruined and cut off.

Yet, aided by the wave she raised, even though he had organized thousands of slaves, he still could not overthrow the nobles hidden behind the Black Wall—what would the queen think of that? Her commander Mormont had been promised Happy Isle, would that vile little creature she despises be promised an island in the Sea of Sorrows?

The failed uprising seriously undermines the queen's aim: those ships may still be peacefully anchored in port, but if the queen's army besieges the city, resistance is futile, and perhaps those slave masters will flee aboard those ships to the east, west, or the jungle‑laden south—after all, their ancestors once ventured there to explore and seize dark‑skinned folk, didn't they?

Damn Mormont! Damn Ptolemy! He had said before that they should not flee northward, but should instead give their all, rush to the port, seize every ship, and shut off the slave masters' retreat completely!

Damn the red‑robed priest Herono!

If he truly were a priest of R'hllor, he ought to be burned alive now. He stopped when he should not have, and fled when he should not have.

A bunch of idiots.

In the eyes of the victorious queen, he might be nothing but an incompetent who only does harm.

"We should halt!" Yezzan shouted to the cavalry beside him, "We should stop at once and regroup!" He waited for the fleeing troops behind to catch up, to guard against slaughtering pursuers, and to calm the panicked fugitives.

"We must find the queen at once! Only by reaching her will these people feel safe, damn it, after all she's 'Misa'!" Ptolemy said to him, "I'll wait until the queen mounts her dragon—then even the sturdiest gate can be opened, damn it, no thick wall can stand against a dragon's wings! And I advise you, stop spouting nonsense."

"Nonsense?"

"Your voice is too loud. I advise you not to let those slaves notice you," he lowered his voice, "You know what people do to red‑robed priests whose predictions go wrong?"

"I didn't predict wrong!" I urged them to wait until the queen's army arrived below the city before acting, but those idiots couldn't even endure a few short days.

"For those whose predictions fail, the faithful normally impale the priest on a long stake as a sacrifice," he said, seemingly uncaring what Tyrion said, "You're so tiny—there are plenty of stakes fit for you, and you could even just stop by the roadside and hack a small tree to make one!"

"Damn, does impaling them even save them?" he felt furious; he had failed countless times, but militarily this was his first attempt, and in terms of planning and results, this was also his first.

"It can't save them, but at least it can guarantee that the next red‑robed fool won't dare speak rashly," he laughed, "or you can use R'hllor to utter some muddled plans."

"In Volantis I can be very well‑behaved, I wouldn't dare cross Benno Plutt, but he says nothing at all, making me think he's just a white maggot—oh, a white maggot with colored tattoos."

"Hahaha," Ptolemy laughed loudly, "You're not really taking yourself for a red‑robed priest, are you? You're just a little dwarf, and even if this failure has caused Volantis turmoil unseen for centuries, you've still earned great merit—why keep tormenting yourself? If I were the queen, I'd surely grant you Casterly Rock!"

"You're nothing but a stinking mercenary! If the queen promised me Casterly Rock, why would I torment myself?"

"Granting me Casterly Rock is just to settle your account, right?" Tyrion hated all the free‑city folk, "If they were willing to wait for the queen, not only would the plan succeed, fewer would die in the city, and we would leave the queen an intact Volantis."

"The queen can't even keep intact Astapor, Yunkai, or Qeyrs for herself, let alone a whole Volantis—dwarf, you're asking for too much!"

"If they were willing to wait for the queen, they wouldn't be hoarding so much gold now—she wouldn't allow looting under her nose," Mormont said, "Besides, who really cares about the dead in those cities? This farce is bound to fail."

"Who cares about those dead? The dwarf before you is just a—!" he snapped, then added, "You already knew that, didn't you?"

"You're not really taking yourself for a red‑robed priest, are you?" Mormont flung a torch to the cavalry beside him, "These slaves had already begged the high priest Benno Plutt in the Red Temple before they acted."

"So, the answer from High Priest Benno Plutt of R'hllor was that he agreed to their rash advance?"

"I don't know what R'hllor and Benno Plutt said. I do know that those slaves left the Red Temple satisfied with the answer."

"Would R'hllor agree to Volantis falling into such chaos?" "Such casualties?"

Fires flickered, the picnic party outside gathered the slave soldiers streaming out from the city; as for guaranteeing Volantis's fleet, they had hardly any plan, and Mormont seemed indifferent as well. Perhaps he never wanted Meereen at all, he just wanted to stay by the queen's side, and he seemed to have seen her dilemma too.

Tyrion looked back at Volantis; it no longer held the gentle lights he remembered from his last passage, only houses burning fiercely, the fire staining the horizon crimson. After this ordeal, he did not know how many years the city would need to recover.

Perhaps beneath the firelight, even more slaughter and unrest were still unfolding.

I don't know the gods' opinion, but since such a result has appeared, there is also...

The chaotic sound from afar interrupted Moermeng's voice.

They pulled up the reins, turned their heads, and looked back.

The sun had already set; they should have set up camp, not recklessly march forward—chaos was bound to happen.

"Call Yelu out." Tirion heard some shouts from Walantis.

"Looks like someone's in trouble." Tuolemi shouted, "You don't have any guards now."

"Also less debt." Gangju died in Abundant Forest, Maseng died in Walantis, what about him? Best to die in the duke's bed in Victory Rock City.

"Go north, then turn east—that's the road I took you to Abundant Forest." Moermeng said to him.

"Wow, we're going to shake them off and then take the Devil's Road?"

"It's you who wants to take the Devil's Road." Moermeng didn't look at him, "These riotous troops will cause you trouble; you'd better stay away from us, otherwise don't blame me for tying you up and handing you over to them to settle the matter."

Damn it. "I was assigned by the queen to work beside you, and you treat me like this?" Tirion thought he was Moermeng's friend.

"I don't need a kinslayer to work for me, and besides, I also dislike the Lannisters."

"Hmph!" Tirion felt angry, "How would a lion care about a stinking bear's dislike!" He reared his warhorse and went north alone.

He heard loud laughter from behind.

The torch-bearing troop was left behind him; under the hazy night, after only running a short while, he began to feel some regret. He was merely a disabled dwarf—if the villains hadn't been scared off by his dignified bearing, it would have been his turn to piss on the warhorse.

The moonlight hung high; leaving the torches behind, he felt he could see more clearly, and the horse seemed to like this as well, galloping with him across the vast plain.

Soon, he saw the horse exhaling hot air, beginning to slow its pace.

Beside him were dark, shadowy hills; ahead lay an endless plain; beneath his feet flowed a gentle stream. He simply dismounted here, rested a little, hoping the wild wolves on the prairie wouldn't show up at this time.

Heh, what you're facing is indeed a lion!

He jumped off the horse, took the waterskin from the saddle, and as he lay by the creek, opening the lid, a clear silhouette appeared not far before him.

The ripples in the creek slowly approached him, pressing layer after layer of moonlight toward him.

"Did I scare you?" Her common language remained just as awkward, her voice as always, gentle and soft.

"If I say I'm fine, you'd surely think I'm a liar." His heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Her attire scattered a faint glow in the moonlight, different from what I saw last time, yet there was no difference in feeling.

"You must be wondering why I appear here again."

As long as it's not about sacrifice.

"There's water here; you're a water mage—it's only natural for you to appear here, right?"

"That's not wrong either. My nose is very keen; as soon as you appear by the water here, I can smell it."

"Oh, my lady, what do I smell like?"

"You forgot? You reek of the musty smell of a water mage and the stench of piled-up debts."

"What a pity—I thought seeing the Dragon Queen would at least wash away this stench!"

"Heh, you have no chance to wash off that stench, but this musty smell can still be dealt with."

"My lady, please don't scare me—I'm not planning to bathe here!"

"Hey, little guy, how do you still not understand—there's no place for you in the whole world!"

"How could that be? The Dragon Queen placed me beside a bear!" Tirion began to feel an inexplicable tension, his heart rate also quickening.

"Heh, here with me, you have an important position."

I don't want to get married yet; I already have a wife. He didn't dare say that.

"Knowing this is truly delightful." His heart kept thumping, utterly unwilling to calm down, "May I ask, my lady, what position is this?"

"A position that can change the world."

"You're joking……"

"No, you once said you wanted four seasons in a year, and I have already laid out the prophecy according to your imagination. Prophecy cannot be changed, no matter what prophecy— to set such a grand prophecy in motion requires a sacrifice of the entire populace of Walantis. Look, Walantis is now engulfed in flames, slaughter underway; soon the queen will march on the city, and there will be another slaughter."

The light yet cruel words almost made Tirion's teeth start to chatter.

"My lady, stop joking—I'm about to be scared into wetting myself, and polluting your water would be bad."

"Heh," she let out a light laugh, as if this were extremely funny, taking her a long time to recover from that state, "We are doing great things! You must absolutely not give up halfway; I have never heard of such a fine proposition."

"The lives of a city's people merely make the prophecy take effect……"

"Take effect? You're wrong, I've said this prophecy—even using an ocean's blood couldn't make it take effect; now it's merely being triggered, and someday it will gather enough sacrifices, then it will take effect, letting the world run according to its design. How about that? At that time, the world will change according to your expectations, and you will become the creator god?"

"And what about you, my lady?"

"Just like you, we share this name."

"There are countless people like me, but someone like you is one in ten thousand; you could easily find others to share the burden."

"There's no way; the reasoning is too complex, I can't explain it to you, but countless reasons convince me that only you will do."

Tirion swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"Using a city's populace to…… trigger……" What a load of crap language?

After a brief silence, he asked.

"Using the lives of a city's slaveholders plus the lives and blood of the slaves who died today to trigger it. I've already seen the gears forming, the rumbling sound echoing in my ears—it's time."

"The queen isn't just a butcher; she won't kill slaveholders if they surrender." Surrender promptly.

"The queen is an impulsive girl; just a little tampering, and she'll send all the slaveholders to the altar."

"Impulsive? How could she be impulsive?"

"When she is angry."

"How does she become angry?"

"When a child is killed."

She has no children.

Hehe, isn't she called Long Zhi Mu?

You want to slay dragons?

It is the slaves of Valyria who mainly slay dragons.

Will you help the slave master of Valyria?

You ask too many questions. In short, the queen will, because she loses the dragons, kill all the slave masters, and then with this blood I can help you complete the construction of your prophecy, and then slowly wait for enough blood to drive the world to change according to your wishes. You say, what could be more interesting, more valuable, more meaningful than this?

I admit this is indeed interesting. The old woman before him is a lunatic; he finally realizes, "But why do you need to tell me this?"

Hehe, little guy, you've forgotten again. I said before, you are also a sacrifice.

It's really unfair." He felt his neck start to get cold again, "My enemies are still alive and well."

Your enemies are all dead, and now it's merely greed and guilt driving you; why bother living such a life?

Cersei is dead?

Oh, that queen dowager is already dead, ridiculously dying by her own hand; are you satisfied?

Hehe, that's good.

Are you serious about all these words?

I have never been this serious before.

Oh." That's really good.

He felt his neck cool and cool; blood, like flowing water, slowly drifted into the bag in his hand.

Fuck, don't lie to me!