Chapter 201: Astapor
Astapor sits at the mouth of a winding river — one the locals call the Worm River — that flows eastward into Slaver's Bay. To the south rise the Ghiscari Mountains, where the ruins of the ancient city of Ghis lie buried and forgotten.
According to Daren's calculations, Ian's fleet was less than half a day's sail from the city.
The voyage from the western coast of the Valyrian Peninsula to Astapor had taken a full month. They could have arrived three or four days earlier, but after entering the Gulf of Grief, Ian had deliberately told Daren to ease off the pace.
He'd timed his arrival in Astapor to fall after the fifth-month settlement date — and it paid off.
He received 40 points, 4,888 gold dragons, and one S-rank NPC of his choice within the region.
Ian's treasury had climbed back above 100,000 gold dragons. With that kind of money, even without dragons, he could buy nearly every Unsullied soldier in Astapor outright.
The bad news, however, was that only 22 players remained in the game. That meant the leaderboard rewards would run dry in two months at most.
Midway through last month, something significant had gone down in Volantis — the chest for Bounty Quest II had been found there, and three players had been wiped out in a single day. Ian's best read on the situation was that two or three player alliances had been lurking in Volantis and finally forced each other into a decisive confrontation.
The players who'd only just found the Bounty Quest II chest at this stage weren't much of a threat to him anymore. His real competition was the player faction that had secured the chest in Oldtown, and whoever was stirring up trouble in the North.
Setting that aside for now, Ian logged into the system. He had S-rank card draws waiting for him — two months' worth.
The first set of three cards came up as: [Khohor Black Goat Rider] — a card he'd already passed on twice — along with [Unsullied Lance Master] and [Meereen Champion Gladiator], both of which he'd already declined once before.
You have got to be kidding me. The cards were all from the same region. He'd seen these same options in Pentos, again in Tyrosh, and now here in Astapor? There was something seriously wrong with this system's so-called randomness. Were these NPCs following him across the continent?
He couldn't exactly file a complaint, so he gritted his teeth and selected [Meereen Champion Gladiator].
He'd turned down [Khohor Black Goat Rider] twice already — that was a hard pass, final answer. And [Unsullied Lance Master]? He was about to purchase an entire army of Unsullied. What exactly was he going to do with one more?
A data card materialized in front of him.
Sama — Strength 36, Dexterity 38, Spirit 1 Scimitar Mastery, Advanced Swordsmanship, Intermediate Riding Equipment: Ghiscari Scimitar
"Well, at least my luck isn't completely rotten," Ian muttered. Dexterity slightly above average — he'd take it. He moved on to the second draw.
This group featured [Khohor Black Goat Rider] showing up for the fourth time, [Unsullied Lance Master] making his third appearance, and a brand-new card: [Dothraki Bloodrider].
Ian selected the new card without even glancing at the Khohor rider's stats. Done. Moving on.
Quigor — Strength 33, Dexterity 35, Spirit 1 Arakh Mastery, Archery Mastery, Riding Mastery Equipment: Arakh, Dothraki Stallion, Recurve Bow
Quigor's raw numbers were nothing to write home about, but the triple masteries more than justified the S-rank rating.
Ian checked in with Annie afterward and confirmed that Champion Gladiator Sama was already in Astapor, while Bloodrider Quigor would reach the city within ten days — which, by Ian's estimate, placed Quigor somewhere around Meereen at this point in the timeline.
He passed along instructions for following up on both NPCs, then logged out of the system and made his way up to the deck.
About four hours later, the Breeze Goddess's Kiss eased into the harbor at Astapor. The great harpy statue above the harbor gate came slowly into view — a grotesque thing with a woman's torso, bat wings, eagle talons, and a scorpion's tail, its claws clutching a broken set of manacles.
The harpy was the sigil of the old Ghiscari Empire, once one of the most powerful civilizations the world had ever seen. Long before the Valyrian Freehold was anything more than a collection of shepherds on a hillside, the Ghiscari Empire had already built something remarkable.
Then the Valyrians found their dragons.
With that single advantage, they won five great wars against the Ghiscari and finally ground the Empire into dust over five thousand years ago. After Old Ghis fell, the Valyrians reportedly salted, sulfured, and scattered bones across every acre of its land — making sure nothing would ever grow there again, making sure no one would ever come back.
The Astapori of today called themselves the Sons of the Harpy, but there was little pure Ghiscari blood left in them. Their tongue was a broken-down dialect of High Valyrian. Their harpies no longer wielded the thunderbolts of the ancient empire — they wielded chains.
Ian found himself thinking that if any true-blooded Ghiscari from the old empire could see what Slaver's Bay had become, they'd feel the same gutted grief a Roman senator might feel standing in a medieval Italian village, watching strangers pick through the rubble of the Forum.
"Ian." Celia's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Your queen isn't accepting your suggestion to stay aboard the ship. Thought you should know."
Ian had told Celia more times than he could count to stop saying your queen in his presence. The warnings had accomplished nothing. If anything, they seemed to have encouraged her.
She'd clearly figured out that Ian would never risk losing half his accumulated points just to discipline her over a few words. And she was right, damn her.
"She says it's her duty as queen to meet with the rulers of Astapor herself," Celia continued.
"Her obligation," Ian corrected with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least that means she actually paid attention during my lessons."
"So what's the call? If you want her to stay on the ship, I can work on convincing her."
"We'll bring her." Ian shook his head, waving off the offer.
Celia raised an eyebrow. "Why? You planning to let her see firsthand how the benevolent masters of Astapor treat their property?"
"She'll see it eventually either way."
"I figured you'd want to ease her into it. Build up to it." Celia let out a short laugh. "How are you planning to keep her from losing it completely?"
"How exactly would she lose control?"
"Legal complications aside — she's the only dragonrider you've got."
Ian smiled without answering. He had his reasons for confidence, though he wasn't about to reveal that he'd become a dragon spirit himself.
"Fine. Your call." Celia shrugged. She knew that look on his face too well. He'd worn the exact same insufferable smile when he cornered her at the Red Temple in Pentos.
Whenever Ian looked like that, it meant he had everything figured out. So why was she even worried? She was just an employee — and frankly, at this point, she wasn't even sure she'd see a paycheck.
Celia turned and walked away to go organize Daenerys's procession ashore.
(End of Chapter)
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