Chapter 304: Focus, Don’t Embarrass Yourself

The dragon's arrival sent shockwaves through Meereen, waking the entire city's establishment. Even the Green Grace at the Temple of the Graces learned of its presence. In Slaver's Bay, where rumors of the dragon's revival spread quickly, anxious citizens flocked to the temple seeking answers.

Their question was always the same: would the dragons bring disaster to Slaver's Bay?

This fear was heightened by a recent event—shortly before the dragons' reappearance, the head of the Harpy statue at the Temple of the Graces had suddenly broken off. Many saw this as an ill omen, a sign that something terrible was coming.

Publicly, the Green Grace, Galazza, reassured the people, but in private, she warned Meereen's ruling elite. The destruction of the Harpy statue had already played a part in their decision to ally with Qarth against Viserys. His sudden arrival in the city only deepened their sense of panic.

Hizdahr zo Loraq, however, remained calm. He worked to ease the unrest within Meereen while trying to stabilize his dealings with Viserys. At the same time, he sent someone to consult with the Green Grace.

"What's the plan?" he asked urgently.

"My lord asks if now is the time to strike, Green Grace," the messenger inquired as the Green Grace, Galazza, gazed up at the headless Harpy statue above her.

She spoke as if to herself, "No... only the Warlocks of Qarth can defeat him. For now, all we can do is keep a close watch on him."

Hizdahr, having received the Green Grace's counsel, abandoned any immediate plans to take action against Viserys. In truth, he shared her doubts about Meereen's chances. Expecting the city's soldiers to find the courage to stand against Viserys and his seven dragons seemed hopeless. Instead, they placed their hopes on the Warlocks of Qarth.

Thanks to Hizdahr's efforts, the Meereenese nobles began to emerge from their pyramids, heading toward the grandest and most luxurious arena in the city—The Great Pit of Daznak.

As emperor, Viserys could not be insulted by facing a mere slave swordsman. The warriors summoned to challenge him were all Meereenese nobles. Among them, one man was particularly favored: Oznak of House Pahl.

Oznak, a proud man who styled his hair into a goatee, was well-known among Meereen's elite. His father commanded the city's defense forces, and his uncle was one of the wealthiest men in Meereen. Oznak held his aristocratic honor in high regard—so much so that he had once killed a foreign commoner simply for staring too long at a noblewoman, claiming the man had "raped her with his eyes."

Surrounded by his friends, Oznak made his way to the arena. Daznak's Colosseum, the most luxurious in Meereen, was a place where only the city's nobility could hope to gain entrance. Commoners had no chance of finding a seat.

At the entrance stood two imposing statues of bronze warriors, facing each other with such intensity that it seemed they could come to life at any moment and engage in a bloody battle.

Inside the coliseum, rows of benches circled the arena, each level rising higher than the last. The benches were color-coded: black, purple, blue, green, white, yellow, orange, and red. Typically, the poor were confined to the black and purple seats, but today was different.

With the legendary Dragonlord in the arena and seven dragons of different colors circling above, there were no seats for the poor at all.

"By the gods, those dragons won't suddenly swoop down and eat us, will they?" one noble murmured anxiously.

"No," came the reply, "the emperor wouldn't risk making enemies of the mighty Meereen."

This was shaping up to be the most thrilling fight the nobles of Meereen had ever witnessed. Not only were the two combatants of immense importance, but the fight was also taking place under the watchful eyes of seven dragons. It was destined to be an unforgettable spectacle.

On Oznak's side, though he had entered the arena countless times, even he felt a flicker of nervousness in the face of such a grand spectacle. The pressure of fighting in front of dragons was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Pahl! Focus!" one of his friends called out, half encouraging, half teasing. "Don't embarrass yourself—you're the strongest among us!"

"Hmph," Oznak scoffed, his greasy hair, styled into two horns, shaking as he spoke. "You should be more worried about that so-called emperor. If it weren't for his dragons, I'd tear him to shreds."

Despite his bravado, doubts nagged at Oznak's mind. His information had been clear: Viserys was supposed to be heading to Astapor to buy Unsullied. So why had he made a detour to Meereen?

Meanwhile, Hizdahr zo Loraq spared no effort in ensuring Viserys and his entourage were treated like royalty. A steady stream of fruits, fine wines, and beautiful women were delivered to the emperor. Even those in Viserys's company, such as Jorah and Young Connington, received generous gifts.

As for Dany, Hizdahr went even further. He presented her with an entire ship filled with treasures—lavish New Ghis and Old Ghis-style jewelry, gorgeous robes, and even eight meticulously trained slave girls.

"Your Grace, the men from Caggo and Brendel have reached the Lhazar Mountains in the northeast," reported Young John Mudd.

John, along with Brendel, had once been a mercenary in the Golden Company. Their involvement in the slave trade had made them highly familiar with the region. Upon Connington's recommendation, Viserys had brought John into his inner circle to serve as a liaison between him and the other mercenary leaders, such as Caggo.

Viserys handed him a map, his expression serious. "This is the fortification map of Meereen. You'll stay behind and coordinate with Caggo and the others."

"Yes, my lord," Young John Mudd replied. Taking the map, he bowed and left without another word.

Since joining Viserys, the Golden Company had experienced nothing but prosperity. They were not only well-fed and well-cared for, but their status had risen significantly. The most important factor, however, was that Viserys could take them home—something they had long yearned for.

From the moment they swore allegiance to him, they became the most loyal force under the banner of the Three Dragons. The decisive moment came when they heard Viserys had burned Robert's fleet. That victory signaled to them that the day of their return was close.

As for Harry Strickland, one of the former leaders and the responsible for the so-called "Beggar King" title, his fate was of little concern to anyone now.

"Your Grace, let me fight for you in this first battle," Jorah said, stepping forward, his Valyrian steel sword gleaming in his hand—an inheritance from his father.

Viserys shook his head. "No, it's not necessary." He had his reasons. Demonstrating his own strength to intimidate the Meereenese was part of the larger plan.

The reason Viserys had bypassed Astapor and come straight to Meereen was simple: he didn't want the slave owners of Slaver's Bay to control the narrative. By arriving unexpectedly, he ensured that whatever happened next, they would be forced to react, always one step behind.

"Tell the Meereenese I've changed my mind," he instructed. "Have them choose five nobles and five slaves. I'll fight ten of them."