Xaro Xhoan Daxos — the very same black, rotund merchant who, in the show, had always been so passionately "devoted" to Daenerys — stood up, puffing out his chest.
Of course, in Aedric's eyes, the man was nothing more than a pig in fine clothes.
Too lazy to listen to the same long-winded speech he remembered from the TV series, Aedric simply pulled the stunned Daenerys behind him for protection, and said coolly,
"I don't care who you claim to be.
But since you two have already admitted your guilt, I assume you've both made peace with dying."
"Hahaha!" Xaro burst out laughing. "Sword Saint, shall I remind you—you're unarmed right now."
"And?" Aedric asked, calm as still water.
"So that means I hold the advantage! Or rather—we do!"
Xaro gestured sharply. At once, the guards surrounding the chamber stepped forward, raising their weapons. His laughter turned savage.
"I will kill you here, claim the three dragons, and found an empire that will last for millennia! You'll never live to see it!"
He shot a glance toward the blue-lipped warlock beside him. The man began to chant softly, his voice echoing unnaturally:
"Life everlasting."
In that instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped—every guard suddenly drew his blade and pressed it to the throats of the remaining merchant princes.
Just as the blades began to move—
"Hmph!"
A thunderous hum exploded from Aedric's chest. The confined chamber shook as if struck by lightning; everyone staggered, their ears ringing.
Before anyone could recover, Aedric's hand flicked up—a dozen streaks of silver light shot out like meteors, piercing the skulls of the nearest guards.
Each one dropped instantly, nailed in place.
"Who told you a Sword Saint is weak without a sword?" Aedric said flatly. "Whoever it was—was an idiot."
Then, with a twist of his wrist, he invoked Dragon-Catching Technique. A fierce suction force yanked the fat merchant off his feet and into Aedric's grasp.
With a single open-handed slap, he sent Xaro spinning through the air. The man crashed to the ground, his face swollen grotesquely, teeth scattering like pearls.
"Xaro! Pyat Pree! You treacherous dogs dared try to kill us!"
The surviving merchant princes stared in horror as the "guards" collapsed—revealing the warped faces of warlocks beneath their masks.
Realizing they had been seconds away from death, they all scrambled toward Aedric's side, crowding around the only man capable of keeping them alive.
Planting his foot on the groaning Xaro's chest, Aedric glared at Pyat Pree.
"Your 'king' is under my foot," he said icily. "Now—what other tricks do you have?"
Pyat Pree ignored the whimpering Xaro entirely. Smiling faintly, he turned to Daenerys, who stood just behind Aedric.
"The Mother of Dragons must reunite with her children," he said softly. "You will give them your love.
I will await you in the House of the Undying, Daenerys Stormborn."
As he finished speaking, his figure blurred.
Like a wisp of smoke, he vanished, leaving not a trace behind.
Aedric's eyes widened—not in alarm, but in delight.
That's it! he thought. That's the move I came for!
The real reason he had chosen to linger in Qarth—aside from its convenient trade in herbs and reagents—was this very magic: Pyat Pree's art of instant disappearance.
It wasn't illusion. It wasn't sleight of hand. Aedric had watched closely, and he was certain—it was real magic.
The perfect technique for escaping or surviving the impossible.
He had to learn it.
Taking a deep breath, he forced down his excitement and turned back to the shaken merchant princes.
With a flick of his leg, he kicked Xaro's battered body across the floor toward them.
"He's yours," Aedric said coolly. "But I want half of whatever you strip from him."
"Do I need to say that twice?"
"Not at all, Sword Saint!" one of them stammered. "We understand perfectly. We'll make sure you're… satisfied."
Having just survived death, they could barely contain their hatred for the scheming "king."
At once, they surged forward, fists and boots flying.
Xaro's screams quickly filled the hall, echoing down the corridors.
Aedric didn't so much as glance back.
He led Daenerys downstairs, where Arya and the others were waiting. Calmly, he explained the situation, retrieved his True Martial Sword from Arya's keeping, and fastened it once more to his waist.
Then he gazed toward the distant spires of the House of the Undying.
"To the House of the Undying," he said.
Unlike in the show—where Daenerys found the gates open and eerily empty—this time the entrance was heavily guarded.
Warlocks, mercenaries, strange traps, even venomous beasts like the legendary rainbow scorpions lurked around the perimeter.
Aedric didn't bother wasting effort on them.
"They're yours," he told Arya and Ser Jorah.
Arya, who had been itching for a proper fight after months of restraint, lit up like a firework.
Her twin swords, Frost and Moon, blurred into motion, the air whistling as she carved a path through the defenses like a storm.
Guards fell in halves. Traps were sliced apart before they triggered. Even the rainbow scorpions were cleaved cleanly in two before they could strike.
Those who had been eager to help—Jorah included—soon realized there was nothing left for them to do but watch.
Even the warlocks who dared intervene were dispatched instantly, skewered by Arya's dragonbone dagger.
Within minutes, the entire outer defense was in ruins.
Unscathed, the group finally reached the foot of the ancient, towering structure—the House of the Undying itself.
Unlike before, Daenerys now had strength in numbers, and she no longer rushed forward recklessly.
She ordered her warriors to fan out and search for an entrance.
Naturally, they found nothing.
The House of the Undying was steeped in sorcery.
Its surface shimmered with invisible energy, warping perception and hiding the true doors.
Without invitation, none could enter.
Except Aedric and Arya.
The dragonfire energy within them cut through all enchantments like sunlight through mist.
Before long, they saw it—two immense iron doors, tightly shut.
Arya took a step forward, ready to strike with her sword, but Aedric raised a hand to stop her.
"Wait," he said. "There might be traps."
He turned to the others, explaining briefly what he sensed. Then he concluded in a low, steady tone:
"The warlocks' goal is only Daenerys. Unless she enters alone, these doors will never open from within."
~~--------------------------
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