Chapter 343: The Deal

Nightfall descended, and the royal hall in the mid-tier of the Great Pyramid was illuminated by the glow of over a hundred blazing braziers.

The raucous beat of drums mingled with the lilting notes of flutes, creating a captivating rhythm filled with exotic allure.

Three young, beautiful female dancers swirled and leaped around a bonfire in the center of the hall. Their oiled bodies shimmered under the firelight, displaying their athletic and elegant forms.

Seated around the room, a dozen Unsullied officers in their spiked helmets sat motionless, resembling sculptures, entirely indifferent to the spectacle before them.

Not everyone in the hall, however, shared their stoicism.

Katu "TigerFang" watched the performance intently, nearly drooling.

Samwell, sipping a cup of tart persimmon wine, observed the dancers with the gaze of an art critic.

But the guest sitting beside him seemed far less impressed.

The man, pale and thin, wore a flamboyant gold-threaded robe. His bald head gleamed faintly in the firelight, as did the opalescent gemstone embedded in his nose. This man, more captivated by the fruit platters than the bare-skinned dancers, was Xaro Xhoan Daxos, one of the wealthiest merchant-princes of Qarth.

While Qarth was nominally ruled by a king, real power lay in the hands of the Thirteen, the city's most prominent merchants and oligarchs. Xaro was one of them—young and ambitious.

The drumbeat abruptly stopped, and the dancers knelt in unison, bowing gracefully.

"You danced beautifully," Samwell said, clapping his hands. Then he turned to Xaro. "What do you think, esteemed guest?"

"Exquisite and delightful," Xaro replied in his characteristic exaggerated tone. "Astapori women truly excel under your... guidance."

Samwell's mouth twitched slightly. He considered clarifying that he hadn't "guided" any dancers, but decided against it. Explaining things to someone like Xaro was a waste of effort.

"I've heard much about you from Daenerys," Samwell said, flashing a meaningful smile. "She spoke highly of your kindness and hospitality, saying she was greatly indebted to you during her stay in Qarth."

"Oh, Daenerys, the beautiful Dragon Queen! To be praised by her is the highest honor." Xaro raised his goblet. "Pardon my impertinence, but are you two kin? After all, both of you have dragons."

"We are the last of the true dragon bloodlines in this world," Samwell replied, clinking his goblet against Xaro's.

Xaro drained his cup and laughed heartily. "Then we must be friends. Did the lovely Dragon Queen ever tell you that I once proposed to her? Alas, she refused me. Otherwise, we might have been family by now."

Samwell recalled Xaro's indifference to the naked dancers and struggled to suppress a laugh. Keeping a straight face, he adopted a tone of mock regret:

"That truly is unfortunate."

"Indeed, a tragedy!" Xaro exclaimed, a tear glistening at the corner of his eye. "Since she left, my home has felt like a tomb, my days devoid of joy. Oh, why did she abandon me?"

If Samwell hadn't known that Xaro wasn't interested in women—and that Qartheen considered dramatic displays of emotion a mark of sophistication—he might have mistaken the merchant-prince for a lovelorn fool.

"Perhaps your sincerity wasn't sufficient," Samwell remarked lightly.

"Sincerity?" Xaro shouted. "I proposed to her fifty times! Fifty! And each time, I was met with the same cold rejection!"

"Fifty?" Samwell raised his goblet to hide his smile. "Then I must have misjudged you."

"Exactly! Daenerys is a cruel girl, breaking so many hearts. Humble merchants like me are mere pebbles beneath her jeweled sandals." Xaro's dramatic lament was accompanied by another single tear.

Samwell was both amused and impressed. Crying on cue was one thing, but shedding precisely one tear each time took extraordinary skill.

"Regardless, I've always regarded you as a friend," Samwell said, suddenly shifting the conversation. "Which is why I was surprised to learn that you hired the Company of the Cat and the Long Lances to take my city. Is this how Qartheen show their hospitality?"

"You misunderstand me!" Xaro cried, feigning innocence. "We brought those mercenaries to Astapor not to oppose you, but to maintain order amidst the chaos. Surely you understand, the stability of Slaver's Bay is crucial to Qarth."

Samwell knew Xaro was lying, but the last statement was true. Qarth's prosperity depended heavily on the slave trade, and Slaver's Bay was its lifeblood.

"King Caesar," Xaro said, leaning forward slightly, "the Thirteen are prepared to acknowledge your rule over Astapor—provided you do not outlaw the slave trade."

"Oh? And if I allow the trade to continue, the Thirteen will recognize my authority here?"

"Precisely," Xaro replied, his tone conciliatory. "I know you have a compassionate heart, but the slave trade is vital to Astapor's survival. Surely you've noticed the food shortage? While you can temporarily buy grain with gold, Astapor has no gold mines. Eventually, the gold will run out.

And the Worm River fields you've begun cultivating? A noble effort, but doomed to fail. Astapor's hills were once forested, but dragonfire during the Valyrian-Ghiscari wars turned them into barren red sands. That land will never yield enough to sustain the city."

"You make a compelling argument," Samwell said with a faint smile. "In fact, I must inform you that two days ago, Astapor voted via public referendum to continue the slave trade."

"A wise decision!" Xaro exclaimed, visibly relieved. "Even the people of Astapor understand that freedom is worthless without bread. Better a fed slave than a starving freeman."

Samwell took another sip of wine, his emotions mixed. But he quickly pushed aside his thoughts and said:

"However, while the trade will continue, there will be no more Unsullied trained here."

Xaro froze. "Why not? The Unsullied are renowned worldwide. People will pay fortunes for them."

"Their training methods are inhumane," Samwell said firmly.

"True," Xaro admitted. "But excellence requires sacrifice. A swordsmith must temper steel with fire and hammer it repeatedly before quenching it in icy water. To reap sweet fruit, one must toil tirelessly."

"My decision is final," Samwell said. "No more Unsullied. But Astapor will still train slave-soldiers."

"Very well," Xaro said, shrugging. "But this will cost you a fortune in lost profits."

"It will cost us," Samwell corrected with a smile.

"Us?" Xaro asked, puzzled.

Samwell's smile widened. "I plan to share half of Astapor's slave trade profits with Qarth's Thirteen."

"Are you serious?" Xaro's eyes glinted with greed, but he quickly grew wary. "What's your catch?"

"Just one condition," Samwell replied. "I'll be leaving Slaver's Bay with my Unsullied to focus on Westeros. I need your ships to transport my army—and your assurance that you'll help maintain order in Astapor after I'm gone."

Xaro swirled his wine, its crimson hue resembling blood. After a sip, he said:

"You're cunning. You say it's one condition, but it's really two: transport your army and safeguard your interests here."

Samwell laughed but didn't deny it. "If my rule collapses, the next master of Astapor won't be as generous with you."

After a moment's thought, Xaro said, "Convince Daenerys and her dragons to leave Slaver's Bay as well, and you'll have the Thirteen's full support."

Samwell's grin widened. "Deal."

"You're confident you can persuade her?" Xaro asked, skeptical.

"I'm a very persuasive man," Samwell said with a chuckle.

Xaro although skeptical still said "f you can really convince the Dragon Queen, perhaps we can cooperate in the slave trade of Meereen and even Yunkai."

"Deal."

Xaro hesitated, then extended both hands to clasp Samwell's.

(End of Chapter)