Chapter 36: The Army at the Gates
Tyrion knew perfectly well that Varys was not talking about military command. As far as leading armies went, Tyrion had only done so twice—once with the mountain clans, and once during the defense of King's Landing.
"So tell me," Tyrion said flatly, "why are you telling me all this?"
Tyrion Lannister was no fool—far from it.
"Instead of languishing here, frustrated and unfulfilled," Varys replied, meeting his gaze meaningfully, "have you ever considered… elsewhere?"
Tyrion's breath caught. He stared into Varys's eyes in disbelief.
He had not expected this—not from the Spider of King's Landing. Varys, master of whisperers, daring to say such things to a Lannister?
His nephew sat the Iron Throne. His sister was Queen Regent. His father, Tywin Lannister, ruled the realm in all but name.
And yet Varys was suggesting defection.
Even if the Targaryen girl had not yet turned her strength against King's Landing, once her wings fully spread, she would inevitably become a threat.
"It seems," Varys continued calmly, unfazed by Tyrion's glare, "that my lord is quite content serving as Master of Coin—and quite happy to assist his dear nephew."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Varys showed no fear, nor any concern that Tyrion might report him. That alone made the words all the more unsettling.
Tyrion thought of his current predicament—his hollow authority, Joffrey's cruelty, his father's contempt—and found himself unable to respond.
"In that case," Varys said lightly, "allow me to wish you joy in your upcoming wedding."
With that, he turned and left the room.
Tyrion watched Varys's broad back disappear, the excitement of his impending visit to the Queen of Thorns utterly gone. Shae's situation, and Varys's carefully chosen words, churned in his mind.
He raised his cup and drank again.
For the sake of fulfilling the mysterious benefactor's instructions, Varys had come personally to see Tyrion. He had not obtained a definitive answer—but now was not the time to send Tyrion to Slaver's Bay regardless.
Another path would have to be found.
---
On the return journey from the North, Drogon stopped by the Dothraki grasslands once more—both to eat his fill and to harvest another wave of faith.
The Light of Divinity within him continued to grow, little by little, strengthening his body in turn. The progress was slow—far slower than when he had first obtained it—but it was steady.
By the time he returned to Daenerys, her army had already drawn close to Yunkai.
Jorah and Barristan had failed to dissuade her from attacking the city. Accepting this, they instead turned their efforts toward planning how to take it.
Three hours later, as dusk approached, the army halted roughly five kilometers from Yunkai. Daenerys ordered the troops to make camp.
She rode out with Jorah, Barristan, and two others to a nearby rise, from which they could survey the city.
Yunkai was built upon a low hill. At its base stood a circular stone wall, with houses of all sizes packed tightly inside.
At the summit rose two massive pyramids—the residences of the city's masters, who styled themselves the "Wise Masters," unlike Astapor's so-called Good Masters.
The walls were already lined with patrolling soldiers. Within the city, armed figures could be seen moving back and forth. Outside the walls, a ring of tents had been erected—numerous and orderly.
"It seems they already know we're coming," Jorah said after a moment.
"Can you estimate their numbers?" Daenerys asked.
"It's difficult from this distance," Barristan replied. "The walls are high. Roughly three thousand inside the city, and perhaps two thousand outside."
"And the forces outside the walls?" Daenerys pressed.
"Likely sellswords," Jorah answered. "I'll find out which company."
After weighing the numbers and overall strength on both sides, Daenerys spoke:
"If we fight them head-on, what are our chances?"
"We will win," Barristan replied without hesitation. "But the losses will be considerable. And once we begin the siege, we will lose even more men."
During the march, Barristan had already witnessed both the training and battlefield performance of the Unsullied. They were formidable indeed.
In single combat, he was confident he could defeat any one of them—but facing three at once would be difficult. As for their commander, Grey Worm, his prowess was exceptional. Barristan believed that in his younger days he could have bested him, but now… he could no longer say for certain.
Daenerys nodded, then issued her orders.
"Jorah, go and deliver my message to the Wise Masters. Tell them to come out and surrender. If they refuse, we will take Yunkai by force—and when we do, none of them will be spared. As for the mercenary companies, speak to them as well. They serve the Wise Masters as hired blades, but if we capture the city, they will not receive a single copper."
She had no intention of sacrificing too many Unsullied for Yunkai. These soldiers were her capital—her foundation for the war to come in Westeros.
After returning to the main camp, Jorah and the others did not retire immediately, but stayed to discuss further details. Only once everything had been settled did they each return to their tents.
Wherever Daenerys went, Drogon followed. Gilly—well aware of this—had even prepared a soft little corner near the edge of the tent as a makeshift nest for him.
A nest was fine, Drogon decided. He had no complaints. A bed would have been wasted on him anyway.
After the others left, Daenerys did not go to sleep at once. She lay on her side, absentmindedly stroking Drogon's scales while lost in thought.
After being petted often enough, Drogon finally understood why the cat he once kept in another life had always liked to rub against him and curl up nearby.
Being stroked, he realized, was an extremely pleasant experience.
Sometimes it felt so good that he drifted off without noticing, only to wake the next morning to find Daenerys lying beside him.
---
The next morning, Jorah delivered Daenerys's terms into Yunkai.
By afternoon, the gates of the city opened.
An eight-bearer palanquin emerged, followed by four men carrying two large chests.
Knowing the Wise Master would come in person, Daenerys had already ordered a temporary audience hall prepared.
Inside the palanquin, the Wise Master of Yunkai—Razdal mo Eraz—frequently glanced at the perfectly ordered ranks of Unsullied. As a slave master himself, he knew well how terrifying their combat effectiveness could be, and silently measured the gap between his forces and hers.
A dragon's roar suddenly split the sky.
High above, Rhaegal and Viserion circled overhead.
Razdal's expression tightened. He had heard the rumors of Astapor—how dragonfire had reduced the Good Masters to ashes. It seemed the tales of living dragons were not exaggerations after all.
Stepping down from the palanquin, Razdal caught sight of Drogon perched on Daenerys's shoulder and instinctively took half a step back.
Then confusion crept into his eyes.
This dragon was… small. Vastly smaller than the two in the sky.
Still, he dared not relax. Who was to say this little dragon wouldn't breathe fire straight into his face?
"The one before you is Razdal mo Eraz, Wise Master of Yunkai," Missandei announced, "scion of an ancient noble house—"
She then turned and introduced Daenerys.
"Before you stands the Unburnt, Stormborn, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea… Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons."
"Mother of Dragons," Razdal said with a respectful bow. "I come to negotiate peace. As a gesture of goodwill, I bring generous gifts."
He clapped his hands.
The four slaves stepped forward and placed the two bronze chests on the ground. Razdal opened them.
One chest was filled with gleaming gold coins.
The other overflowed with jewels and diamonds, refracting light into dazzling colors.
The moment Drogon saw the treasure, his eyes lit up like twin stars.
In two lifetimes—past and present—he had never witnessed a sight like this.
Razdal blinked, momentarily wondering if he had imagined it.
He saw no greed in Daenerys's eyes.
But in the eyes of the small dragon on her shoulder—there was something else entirely.