Chapter 342: Order
As the sun's dying rays cast a golden hue over the walls of Astapor, the chaos within the city finally began to subside.
Cleon staggered through streets drenched in blood and littered with corpses, looking like a castrated, abandoned old dog.
Swarms of green flies buzzed through the smoky air, drawn by the stench of death. Women draped in tattered robes crouched on the curbs, moaning faintly, lamenting the horrors they had endured. Nearby, bloodied children fought viciously over a single carrot that had fallen onto the ground.
The worst scenes were near the southern gate, where corpses had piled up so thickly that they blocked the streets. Charred and collapsed buildings lined the roads, blackened by fire. Greasy black smoke spiraled from the ruins, like writhing serpents in the air.
This city, once so familiar to Cleon, had become the closest thing to hell on earth.
Just yesterday, Cleon had dared to dream of becoming a Great Master. Now, that dream had turned into a nightmare.
The image of Lady Ulorho being dragged from her carriage and torn apart by the frenzied mob would haunt him for the rest of his days.
"It's him! The pig butcher!" a child's voice suddenly shouted.
Cleon turned to see a small boy leading a group of Unsullied in his direction.
Cleon froze, understanding what was about to happen. He briefly considered fleeing but quickly abandoned the idea.
Where could he possibly run?
He allowed himself to be seized, his spirit already broken. The Unsullied dragged him toward the Plaza of Pride.
---
The smell of blood hung heavily over the plaza, but in truth, that was no different from anywhere else in the city.
Cleon, still dazed, was forced onto the execution platform and made to kneel before a wooden block. Only then did he fully comprehend what was happening.
This was a guillotine.
The instinct to survive flared up within him. He began to struggle desperately.
"No! I want to see Caesar! I want to—"
Swish!
The blade fell. His cries were abruptly silenced.
---
From a raised platform on the western side of the plaza, Samwell watched the scene without a flicker of emotion.
The unrest in Astapor had been quelled. Now it was time for reckoning.
Traitors who had conspired with mercenaries, agitators who had incited rebellion, looters who had murdered and plundered during the chaos—all were dragged to the plaza for execution.
The purge did not stop there. The city's former noble class, the Great Masters, were also rounded up. Aside from their minor children, every one of them was executed.
Samwell had previously left the nobility alone because he never intended to truly rule Astapor. This city was not his stronghold, nor could he establish lasting control here.
Initially, his only goal had been to acquire the Unsullied and leave.
But then, strange events—the revival of the harpy—had drawn him to the mysterious fog-shrouded ruins. Meanwhile, Daenerys had unilaterally taken half of the Unsullied to march on Yunkai and Meereen. That left an opening for unrest to spread, culminating in the recent riots.
Fortunately, Samwell had returned in time. The situation, though dire, had not spiraled completely out of control.
And perhaps this chaos was not entirely unwelcome. It gave him the pretext to eliminate the old noble class of Astapor entirely and expose the disloyal elements among the people.
As he stood deep in thought, a familiar voice broke through his reverie.
"Your Grace," said Katu "TigerFang" as he approached, escorting a bloodied man. "This is Gillot Reyhar, the leader of the Long Lances."
Samwell turned to inspect the disheveled man.
"King Caesar," Gillot croaked. His mouth was bloodied, and his speech was slurred. "The Long Lances were only following a contract. Now that we've lost, we accept the consequences. If you spare us, the entire commission we received from Qarth will be yours."
Samwell raised an eyebrow. "It was Qarth that hired you?"
"Yes, through Xaro Xhoan Daxos, representing the Thirteen." Gillot hesitated before adding, "The Company of the Cat was also hired through him. You can confirm it with Bloodbeard if—"
He stopped mid-sentence, remembering that Bloodbeard had already perished in dragonfire.
"Xaro…" Samwell murmured the name, recalling the infamous merchant prince of Qarth from the original books. A plan began to take shape in his mind.
"Send someone to contact Xaro," Samwell ordered. "Tell him I have matters to discuss. If you successfully deliver this message and hand over the commission you were paid, I'll spare your lives."
"Done!" Gillot quickly agreed, as if terrified Samwell might change his mind. "By the gods, it's a deal!"
Samwell gestured for the Unsullied to take Gillot away.
---
"Have the Unsullied stationed outside the city returned yet?" Samwell asked Katu.
"About 1,500 are still on their way back," Katu replied. "I've sent messengers to recall them, but it seems they scouted quite far out and are still returning."
Samwell nodded. "Any news of Daenerys?"
"She's reportedly taken Yunkai and is now marching on Meereen. She freed the slaves there but didn't linger," Katu said cautiously, glancing at Samwell for a reaction. Seeing none, he continued, "Should we send envoys to contact her?"
"No need," Samwell replied coolly, his expression unreadable. "How long will the remaining food supplies last?"
"After the fire destroyed one stockpile and the riots led to looting, we have enough left to sustain the Unsullied for about half a month."
"Use the gold we confiscated from the old nobles, along with the ransoms from the Long Lances and the Company of the Cat, to buy more food," Samwell instructed.
"Yes, Your Grace," Katu said, but he hesitated before adding, "Still, this will only solve the problem temporarily. Sustaining the entire city in the long term is another matter. Although we've begun farming the Worm River valley, it will be some time before the fields yield enough to support everyone…"
"You don't need to worry about that," Samwell said with a faintly mocking smile. "Besides, it seems the people of Astapor aren't particularly inclined to farm themselves. If that's the case, we won't force them."
Katu looked up, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "Your Grace… Are you planning to abandon Astapor?"
Samwell glanced at him and smiled. "Why? Do you want to be king of Astapor?"
Katu scratched his head awkwardly. "Not at all. I've been eager to return to Westeros. The heat here is unbearable, and the way these Ghiscari look at us… it's unsettling."
"We'll be leaving soon," Samwell assured him. "But before we go, we'll set things in order. Announce to the people that tomorrow, we'll hold a vote in the Plaza of Pride. Everyone is free to vote on whether or not to continue the slave trade."
"As you command, Your Grace."
(End of Chapter)