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Astapor was destined to endure a most tumultuous night. Yet Clay paid it no mind. As long as the production line of the Unsullied remained intact, the city of Astapor still held value for him.
He woke the next morning feeling refreshed, clear-headed and at ease.
They had spoken candidly, the 'spoils' had been distributed, and the matters that required handling had been resolved. At this point, Clay had formally become a member of the Targaryen vengeance coalition.
No, that wasn't quite accurate. A more precise description would be the Manderly-Targaryen Axis—or rather, scratch that—the Manderly-Targaryen Alliance.
"Clay, do we need to return to Astapor now? And why did you hand command of the Unsullied over to Arstan?"
Daenerys, who had just finished putting on her clothes and was gently stroking the scales of Gaelithox, turned to ask the question.
Clay cast a glance at her silver hair, gleaming like a river of molten moonlight beneath the morning sun, and smiled silently without replying.
Daenerys was a little dissatisfied. She stepped forward and took hold of Clay's hand. Now that they were standing on the same side, she wanted to understand how he managed the people under their command. She wished to see the thoughts behind his decisions.
"I know Arstan must be someone with a story, and he's clearly capable. There's no way he was merely Belwas' attendant. But that still doesn't justify entrusting the entire army to him so easily."
She gently pushed his face toward her and peered into his eyes, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
"You know who he really is, don't you? His true identity gave you the certainty that he could control the situation without fail."
Tch. Women are better off being a bit foolish. Being too clever is exhausting. Clay silently sighed in his heart. Still, since Daenerys had already caught on to the unusual degree of trust he placed in Barristan, there was no longer any point in hiding it.
"Yes. He is a member of the Kingsguard."
Clay met her gaze and spoke calmly. Yet this single sentence caused Daenerys' pupils to dilate in shock. For a moment, she was utterly stunned.
A Kingsguard? One of the usurper's Kingsguard?
As her thoughts whirled in disbelief, Clay reached out and ran his fingers through her silver hair. He did not give her time to spiral into needless speculation and continued in a steady voice.
"His true name is Barristan Selmy. I imagine you must have heard it before."
"The knight who slew the last of the Blackfyres? The one known across the realm as Barristan the Bold?"
"That's the one."
"But Clay… wasn't he sworn to the usurper?"
"Not anymore. That incest-spawned little brat was hardly worthy of the loyalty of a knight of his stature. He dismissed Barristan from the Kingsguard, drove him out of King's Landing, all so he could make room for his own father, the Kingslayer, to take over as Lord Commander."
"But why would he do something like that?"
Daenerys could not comprehend the filthy depths of court politics in King's Landing. To her, this kind of twisted maneuvering defied all logic.
Clay shrugged with a faint smirk. He spread one hand out and gave her firm backside a light slap, chuckling as he added,
"Here's a hint. The current queen of the Seven Kingdoms—that lioness brooding in the Red Keep—needed a convenient excuse to sneak off and roll in the sheets with her golden-haired lion. Do you understand now?"
Daenerys blinked her violet eyes, deep in thought for a long moment. Then, suddenly, the pieces fell into place. She looked up, her expression incredulous.
"All… just for something like that?"
"For something that ridiculous, yes. Barristan was simply in their way. The Lannisters control King's Landing now. How could they possibly tolerate the presence of someone like him?"
This revelation once again deepened Daenerys' understanding of just how foul King's Landing truly was. That a queen like her and her bastard-born son could still sit undisturbed upon the Iron Throne was nothing short of absurd.
Last night, as Clay held her in his arms and gave her a simple briefing on the current state of Westeros. The young queen was shocked by the fact that the continent had splintered into chaos and her eyes lit up with ambition. In this turmoil, she saw a golden opportunity to strike back and reclaim what was once hers.
But this was not yet the moment for decisive conquest. None of the three crowns had fallen. The time simply had not come.
If they were to return now, they would instantly become the enemies of everyone. The Targaryen claim to the throne was so powerful, so absolute, that... that it would instantly overshadow every other petty contender like dust.
The dynasty had only collapsed a little over a decade ago. Who could say how many noble houses still secretly dreamed of welcoming the return of the rightful bloodline? There was no way the great lords would take that risk. No one would allow Daenerys to lead an army ashore and ignite those smoldering embers.
"Clay, since you already knew his identity, why didn't you tell me? Did you really need me to ask?"
"Up until yesterday, he was your man. I had no right to interfere. Besides, he didn't really have any other path left open. The only choice he had was to follow us to the end. So I didn't say anything. That's all."
Clay answered her bluntly, without evasion. He had no interest in playing mind games with Daenerys. It was tiresome trying to be coy with such a sharp and capable young queen. When the stakes were already known and the waters tested, such games became meaningless.
"Daenerys, we don't exactly have many people we can rely on right now. Although I am the heir of White Harbor, the Manderly family is not yet in a position to openly stand on the opposite side of the current powers. That means our options are limited."
Daenerys thought for a moment, then ultimately accepted Clay's explanation. After hearing his account of the state of affairs in Westeros, she understood why the Manderlys could not yet openly stand beside the banner of black with the red dragon.
Although the Manderly family had become a significant force on the stage of the Seven Kingdoms after absorbing the eastern half of the Twins, their power remained limited by the North's rigid feudal structure. Full independence was still out of the question.
What's more, the Bite still lay between the two regions, and its treacherous waters made passage difficult. Being surrounded on all sides would be all too easy. At least for now, this was not the time for House Manderly to reveal its true allegiance to the world.
"We'll wait a little longer. I trust Barristan will be able to handle it. And even if he doesn't, it won't matter. Those slave-traders won't be able to stir up much trouble."
"You're really planning to let that fat oaf with the chest bigger than mine walk away alive? Honestly speaking, I don't like him. The way he looks at me is far too indecent."
Daenerys let out a low huff. She understood all too well what lurked behind that slaver's leering gaze. Had her dragons not been by her side, she would already have been stripped bare and thrown onto that bloated man's greasy bed.
"Did I ever say he would live? I don't believe I did. I seem to recall saying three people could survive. But did I say he would be one of them?"
"But you only told him. He could very well just kill the two who opposed him and keep the ones bound to him, using them to stand against us."
"Exactly. That's the whole point. Let those three fools who think they can unite to oppose us learn one thing—their petty schemes mean nothing before a Dragonlord."
"And besides, anyone who dares set his filthy thoughts on my woman? He can start digging his grave."
As Clay walked toward Gaelithox' dragon back, Daenerys watched his departing figure. Her ruby-red lips curved into a smile, and her radiant face glowed with satisfaction. Words like that were precisely what she liked to hear.
Things unfolded just as Clay had expected. Once Barristan used brutal force to completely purge and replace Astapor's city defense system, Kraznys mo Nakloz—the Good Master who had long known Clay's true purpose—instigated a vicious civil conflict.
He reached out to another Good Master whose interests did not conflict with his own. Together, the two families secretly mobilized every Sellswords force they could control. Before the other three had even realized what was happening, the knives were already drawn.
Though the other three were somewhat on guard, they had never imagined that their fellow Good Masters, who had fought in the same trench and shed blood alongside them, would turn their blades against them.
They had been utterly unprepared. After a single night of relentless bloodshed, the two once-mighty Good Masters were left beheaded, their severed heads a grim testament to the fall of their rule. The one who remained was stripped of all his power, reduced to nothing more than a puppet, a hollow figurehead under the control of Kraznys mo Nakloz.
Barristan observed the entire bloodbath with cold detachment. His only command was to ensure the city remained firmly under his control. As for the rest, he allowed them to tear each other apart. All he needed to do was remember the events that had transpired.
When Clay finally returned to Astapor with Daenerys upon the back of his dragon, Ser Barristan dutifully relayed everything that had transpired within the city's walls to the pair—whose relationship had clearly grown more intimate since their departure.
When he finished recounting the events, Daenerys offered him a faint smile, her voice soft yet laced with unmistakable approval.
"You've done well, Ser Barristan Selmy. It seems that entrusting command of the army to you was indeed a wise decision on Clay's part."
The moment Daenerys spoke his name and revealed she had learned his true identity, Barristan glanced at Clay, who merely spread his hands in acknowledgment. Realizing that the young queen had uncovered his secret, the old knight lowered himself to one knee without protest.
"Your Grace... I beg your forgiveness for not revealing my true identity to you."
As the elderly knight sank to his knees, Daenerys looked down at him, a heavy sense of helpless frustration rising in her chest.
To say she bore no resentment toward Barristan would be a lie. She was a woman, not a saint. She could not simply brush aside a deception of this kind without a trace of bitterness. And yet, despite her private feelings, she found herself agreeing with what Clay had told her before.
They had no one else they could trust!
Building a truly formidable military force was not as simple as commanding a few thousand soldiers. Both she and Clay were rulers now. It was impossible for them to concern themselves with every minor logistical detail. The army's supply lines, diplomatic outreach, the handling of religious factions, the establishment of an intelligence network… these matters all required capable, trustworthy individuals.
And that was precisely what they lacked.
Clay could not simply transplant the Manderly family's entire infrastructure into this foreign land. At present, their only tangible asset was the Unsullied—a few thousand disciplined warriors. But in the grand scheme of the Seven Kingdoms, that was a mere drop in the ocean.
Thrown into the brutal meat grinder of Westeros, this force would hardly make a ripple. They might not even be able to capture a single decently fortified castle. After all, they had no siege weapons, no means to storm strongholds.
Given all this, Daenerys could only swallow her pride and tolerate the fact that Barristan had hidden his identity from her. Had he been any other noble lord, she would have had him executed as a spy without hesitation.
"Stand up," she said at last, her voice steady. "I hope that in the days to come, you will prove your loyalty anew, not with words, but with your sword. Now, hand over the whip of the Unsullied, Ser Barristan."
Daenerys was well aware that Barristan had once walked the battlefield. His past feats in war were nothing to scoff at. But in her eyes, there was only one man who had seized her admiration—Clay, who had shattered the Lannister army in a single, devastating campaign and captured the Kingslayer alive.
He was, after all, her man!
And the only thing that remained between them now was a grand wedding ceremony. In time, command of the army would pass into his hands as well.
A king without military power was no true king at all!
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[Chapter End's]
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