Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

Kraznys mo Nakloz was not particularly pleased with being summoned to this meeting. At least he could take some solace in the fact that every Good Master of Astapor who mattered had been brought together as well. All of them were sat around a large, round table, each of their chairs as grandiose and ornate as the last. None could be said to stand above the others, this way. Those in this room were equal in their superiority over those outside of it.
 
Of course, as he well knew, some were more equal than others. Sitting back in his chair, rubbing at his freshly oiled beard, Kraznys hums to himself as the meeting begins. The only servant he’s brought along with him today is a newly purchased Naathi scribe. She’d become his assistant as of late, mostly because she was an attractive creature, and he enjoyed showing her off to his peers. Exotic slaves were always admired among the Good Masters of Astapor, especially since they mostly dealt in the Unsullied, who were stripped of their exoticism and anything that made them special through their training.
 
“Please, everyone be seated. We are here today to discuss the troubling news that arrived for us a week hence.”
 
Kraznys resists the urge to snort at that, as one of his peers tries to take control of the meeting. He stays quiet, but as expected, another of the Good Masters does not, quickly trying to seize control for HIMSELF instead.
 
“Indeed, we are! The Dothraki have come to Slaver’s Bay in force! The numbers that were said to be outside of Meereen number beyond the biggest khalasars we’ve seen on record! There is danger here, if we are not careful.”
 
In the interest of being contrarian, another Good Master abruptly stands, scoffing and waving off the one who was just talking.
 
“The Dothraki are no threat! So what if they have banded together. They are still little more than Horse Lords! They are savages, but they are smart enough to know that they cannot take a city without heavy losses. Whoever this new Khal is, he will demand tribute from Meereen, and they will pay it. The Dothraki will leave, and I say let them!”
 
And of course, a fourth Good Master, younger than most of them has to speak up then.
 
“Ah, but is it truly wise to allow such a thing? Yes, there is precedent… but perhaps we can foster a change by banding together with our Sister Cities. If Yunkai is willing to lend her support, I say we do as well. Help Meereen push back the Dothraki once and for all, and they will leave Slaver’s Bay alone for a generation!”
 
There’s a pause at that… and then raucous laughter as the older Good Masters point and laugh at their junior, much to his flushed detriment. Kraznys chuckles along as well, because it really was a funny joke that the young Slavermaster clearly didn’t mean as a joke. Really, banding together against the Dothraki? And potentially risk damaging their product? They didn’t get to the wealth and status they had by USING the Unsullied for war, they got where they were by SELLING them to others.
 
As the laughter dies down, another Good Master speaks up.
 
“We have yet to hear from Yunkai. I am curious to hear what they think of Meereen’s claims. It’s entirely possible this whole thing is being blown out of proportion, is it not?”

There are nods around the table at that. The so-called ‘Great Masters’ of Meereen really were a bunch of drama queens in their experience. And there were far too many of them. There were more Great Masters of Meereen then Good Masters of Astapor and Wise Masters of Yunkai put together. They had a whole ruling class, rather than a handful of Slavemasters. They also had the vast majority of Slaver’s Bay’s religion centered around their Temple of the Graces.
 
Some people even had the gall to say Meereen was the ‘Capital’ of Slaver’s Bay. No one in Astapor said that of course… not if they wanted to keep their tongue. Honestly, Meereen’s Holier-Than-Thou attitude left Kraznys ill-disposed to supporting them. Especially against a Dothraki Khalasar. The Dothraki demanding tribute was a simple fact of life in Essos. Nothing to be frightened of, really.
 
There’s a sudden grinding of stone against stone as the doors to the meeting room are pushed open. A couple of the Good Masters flinch, but most of them simply turn their attention in that direction, blinking as a sweat-covered, out-of-breath courier steps into the room, flanked by two Unsullied guards.
 
“G-Good Masters of Astapor… Yunkai… Yunkai asks for aid.”
 
And then he collapses. No one moves to help him, but with a snap of his fingers, one of the Good Masters at the table directs the Unsullied to strip the courier of any documents. There’s a letter, the contents of which are read out before the letter itself is passed around. It’s a simple enough missive.
 
“Hold on… the Dothraki are now besieging Yunkai? Did Meereen already pay the tribute then? Or did they refuse and the Dothraki moved to what they thought was a softer city?”
 

“No, you fool. Read closer. Yunkai is claiming that they’re being besieged as WELL as Meereen. Apparently, the Dothraki are covering both cities at the moment.”
 
Kraznys blinks at that, a little surprised. One of his peers voices his own thoughts with a loud scoff.
 
“That’s ridiculous! There’s never been a Khalasar that big before. Surely they’re lying!”
 
“Perhaps they are. Though, what reason would they have to lie? Is this Meereen and Yunkai conspiring against us? Perhaps they wish to take over the production of the Unsullied and are trying to push us out?”
 
As the other Good Masters mutter amongst themselves and nod, Kraznys finds himself slowly nodding as well. That did make sense, didn’t it? Much more sense then some sort of massive Dothraki Khalasar capable of besieging two cities at the same time. As conversation turns towards what exactly Meereen and Yunkai could hope to gain from this ruse, the unconscious courier is dragged from the room and the stone doors are closed again.
 
Kraznys simply sits back and lets the conversation wash over him. He’s not much of a talker, frankly. He prefers to save his voice for when he’s closing a sale. The other Good Masters, for all that they’re supposed to be his peers, aren’t worthy of his time in his most humble opinion. Still, it’s good to be kept abreast of these things. Whatever they ultimately decide to do about Meereen and Yunkai’s power play, Kraznys will probably support it. After all, Astapor is his home… and deep down, he believes it to be HIS city as well. He won’t let anyone take what’s his from him.
 
As the meeting begins to drag and the Good Masters each begin to grow weary of spending so much damn time with each other, a motion to table the discussion and reconvene in another week is passed. However, just as they’re all standing up to leave and the stone doors are grinding open to allow them to exit… an Unsullied dressed in the attire of a Guard Captain strides into the room.
 
Pulling off his helmet and falling to one knee, the Unsullied speaks clearly and concisely, without a trace of fear in his voice.
 
“Masters. Dothraki have been sighted in the distance. Astapor will be under siege by nightfall.”
 
Kraznys’ eyes nearly bulge out of his head at that, and he’s not the only Good Master to react that way, some choking on their own spit as they process the message delivered deadpan by one of their slaves. It was easy to call some Yunkai Courier a liar… but far harder to name one of their own specially trained slave soldiers as one too. After all, they beat the lying out of the Unsullied early on in their training.
 
Which meant there were Dothraki on the horizon. Which meant Astapor was under siege. It no longer mattered what was happening to Meereen and Yunkai. Astapor was threatened, and thus Astapor would have to respond.
 
-x-X-x-
 
It just made sense, in the end. Jon wasn’t just Khal Jhono anymore, leader of the largest Khalasar in history. He was Jhono, Khal of Khals, leader of ALL of the Khalasars. With the Dothraki wholly consolidated under his banner, Jon had turned his attention towards Slaver’s Bay. It would be a good test run, he figured. He’d been working hard to change Dothraki Culture. It wasn’t easy, but he felt like he was getting somewhere.
 
Eventually, they would reach a place where to be a Horse Lord was an honorable, if war-like way of life. To be fair, there was a lot about the Dothraki that Jon was content to keep. But slavery had to go, and slavery was such an ingrained part of life here in Essos that he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Still, after bringing the Dothraki under his rule and hunting down those cowards who’d tried to run away, Jon had the biggest army that Essos had probably ever seen. At least, this side of the Bone Mountains anyways.
 
Which meant when he came upon Slaver’s Bay, he didn’t have to settle for besieging one city at a time and giving the others time to find out and decide how to react. Instead, he’d been able to spread out his forces so that the equivalent of at least two to three Khalasars was besieging all THREE of Slaver’s Bay’s primary cities.
 
Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor were ripe for the taking, and standing there in his command tent overlooking a map with all of his current forces arrayed on it, Jon knew he just had one thing left to decide. How the fuck he was going to do said taking.
 
“Any ideas? Because frankly, at the moment I’m ready to just launch an attack against all three cities and be done with it. The only thing staying my hand is the potential loss of life.”
 
His War Council is made up of a dozen or so people. Dany is there as his Khaleesi at his right hand. Bellegere sits at his left, and everyone here knows not to question her presence. The Braavosi Mercenary Captain, who’s job Jon had dramatically altered when he’d decided to take control of the Dothraki, stands further to his left. The High Priestess of the Dosh Khaleen, who had practically begged to be allowed to come and witness his continued ascendancy, is further to his right.
 
And finally, there are around half a dozen Khals under his control, the Commanders of his separate armies. One of them is the one who answers him first, snorting and pounding a fist on his bared chest.
 
“Dothraki do not fear death, only defeat. Let us bring down these Slavers, once and for all!”
 
A small smile spreads across Jon’s face at that, because while the man’s outburst is somewhat counterproductive, it’s also a sign of just how widespread Jon’s teachings regarding slavery are becoming. Of course, he’d pretty much killed all of the old guard, so these six Khals with him now were almost all as young as he was.
 
The Captain is the next to speak up, clearing his throat.
 
“I would recommend waiting, your Grace. We have siege weaponry still set to arrive from Vaes Dothrak, after all. We moved our main armies ahead of it, but another week or two, and we’ll be able to tear down the walls altogether before riding right in. The Dothraki will sustain far less casualties, that way.”
 
Jon inclines his head at that point. It was a good one… it’s just, it rankled a little bit to be here now, be in position to strike… and then wait longer still. Travel time was always a problem, to be sure, but now they were here. And every day they spent waiting for the siege weaponry was a day that the slaves in Slaver’s Bay remained in bondage. A day that more of them died.
 
“We could… trick them.”
 
Daenerys’ sudden input surprises Jon, as well as most of the men at the war council. All eyes go to her, and for a brief moment, she shrinks back. But then she sees his encouraging smile, and fortifies herself, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders.
 
“I just mean… they think that we’re here for tribute or something, right? That’s what the Dothraki do, they demand tribute from cities. Who’s to say they’d expect anything different from us? You could… we could convince them that we will accept their tribute, while also demanding it be given in their most holy places by their highest officials, o-or something. They would open the gates for us, then… and we could go inside and conquer them?”
 
It was… a somewhat childish plan. But Jon could see the value in it. He was still expecting some of the Khals to start roaring about honor or something like that, but as he looks to the Dothraki men, he’s surprised to find them all actually thinking it over. One or two are even nodding slowly, like they can follow what Daenerys is suggesting.
 
… Huh, in the end, do the Dothraki not consider such trickery to be dishonorable? So long as it’s not other Dothraki being tricked, it’s fine? That honestly sounds like the sort of double standard that the Horse Lords would have.
 
Pressing his lips together, not hearing any other suggestions at the moment, Jon can tell he has his options laid out before him. And frankly, the main three seem to be the only ones worth considering.
 
Charging in right away, making it a straight fight… they’d win, he knows they would, but there would be considerable losses. Or, waiting for the siege weaponry from Vaes Dothrak to arrive, the tools of war they’d commandeered from the Eastern Markets in Vaes Dothrak and using them to tear down the walls in a way no Dothraki Khalasar had ever done before. By far the safest plan, but also the slowest.
 
Alternatively, he could go with Dany’s idea, tweaked a bit of course to make it workable. Trick the Slavemasters of Slaver’s Bay into opening their gates willingly, if possible… and then take them over from within in a near-bloodless coup. If it was all done at once, it might just work. The other cities would have no time to react or even hear about it before it was done to them as well.
 
Three choices. Each with their downsides and upsides. Jon just had to decide which one he liked the best, because no one else was going to make this decision for him.

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