Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

The people of Meereen finally surrendered. A weak soldier makes a weak army, and a weak general makes a weak army. Despite having the Unsullied, an elite army that could resolutely attack even dragons, the slave owners were simply too fragile to withstand the flames. When the fourth slave owner wielding the whip disappeared in the dragonfire with a scream, they could no longer hold on.

His former pride and confidence have vanished, and his face is now filled with fear and confusion.

It was terrifying. There was no chance of escape or resistance. Once someone was targeted, a pillar of fire would fall from the sky and vaporize them, leaving only white ashes in the shape of a human and lumps of molten copper on the scorched ground.

The Immaculate Ones then ceased their attack, forming neat squares to await orders, while the surviving whip-wielders frantically waved white flags, praying that the Dragon King in mid-air would see the signal of surrender.

In Essos and Westeros, white, due to its purity and lack of color, often symbolizes peace, innocence, and thus the white flag was used as a sign of truce negotiations or surrender.

In addition, for knights, nobles, or military commanders, placing their swords flat and raising them above their heads was also a recognized way of surrendering.

At this moment, the commander of the Meereen army was kneeling on one knee, his sword held high above his head: "Your Majesty, on behalf of all the great lords present, I surrender to you. We humbly beg you to forgive our offensive behavior..."

"What's your name?" Reed asked the Meereen army commander with great interest.

"The little man's name is Sizdala Graztan Lorak."

"Your middle name sounds familiar?"

“That’s my maternal family name. The Lorac family and the Graztan family of Astapor have been related by marriage for generations, and children’s middle names are often prefixed with their maternal family name,” Sizdala explained, noticing Reid’s inquisitive look. He continued, forcing himself to speak, “The Lorac family has a long history in Meereen. Members of our family have served as city governors and military commanders on numerous occasions. The Graztan family, on the other hand, are nobles and wealthy merchants in Astapor, with business partners all over Essos.”

"You also do business with the Immaculate?"

"This..." Hitzdala was a little uncomfortable with Reid's rambling conversation. It was different from the surrenders he had experienced. But he was the one kneeling, so he had to answer every question. After all, the dragon was watching him intently from behind.

"We do do some work, but our family is just a middleman. Because of the price difference, most of our wealthy clients still choose to go to Astapo in person."

"You demonstrated great strategic thinking on the battlefield."

"You flatter me. It is an honor to be defeated by a dragon king, especially since I only relied on the discipline and execution of the Unsullied," Sizdala replied humbly, his gaze shifting between Reid and the dragon.

"A response with high emotional intelligence."

"Forehead?"

"I mean that your words are appropriate and make the listener feel comfortable."

"This is mainly because you deserve respect and flattery, and also thanks to the careful instruction of my teachers, who have systematically taught me social etiquette, grammar, logic, and rhetoric, so that I won't feel awkward or improper when facing someone as venerable as you." Sizdala paused, but unable to wipe the sweat from his brow as he held his sword in his hands, he continued, "But none of this compares to the excitement of conversing with the Dragon King. I must admit, I never imagined that one day I would speak face-to-face with a real Dragon King."

Having exerted enough pressure, Reed took the sword from Hizdara's hand, signifying his surrender: "Rise."

Sizdala breathed a sigh of relief and slowly got up.

"Wasteel?" Reed stroked the smoky gray blade, adjusting the angle in the sunlight. The flowing ripples on the blade made it appear exceptionally beautiful and mysterious. The hilt was wrapped in silk and calfskin, and the top was decorated with a small bronze statue of a harpy.

Hizdala nodded painfully and replied, "Yes, the Claw of the Invisible Banshee has been passed down in my family for two centuries. It is a family heirloom of the Lorac family. I hope this will appease your anger."

"Keep it." Reed returned the sword.

"Praise be to the gods, for your mercy!" Hizdala gratefully accepted the sword, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. He had thought this precious family heirloom would be lost forever, but Reid's actions had completely relieved him. Hizdala bowed deeply, expressing his heartfelt respect and gratitude.

"I am not ungrateful, my lord! When I return to Meereen, I will offer you gold, silver and jewels worth twice the value of this sword, as well as handsome servants and beautiful maids, as ransom. Your kindness will be remembered by me and my descendants forever."

Reed waved his hand. "Tell me, why did you gang up on me?"

"The Meereen Council believes you are involved in the robbery targeting the Daznak family, the arson in Meereen, and the release of the 'Longwinged Dragon' in the arena..." Hizdara's voice trailed off, then suddenly hardened. "Of course, that's slander! A dragon king can be treated like royalty in any trading city-state whenever he wants, with wealth and beauties flowing to him like water. He has no need for such despicable behavior."

Hitzdal's resolute debate made Reed blush, but it also strengthened his resolve to never admit anything.

"Take your men back, including the dead and wounded, and Pardara's gang. I don't need any compensation or gifts."

Hitzdala's expression changed instantly. He wasn't afraid of Reid's exorbitant demands for a price, but rather of his seemingly gentle and polite demeanor that refused any gifts or compensation. Sure enough, the wrath of a dragon king wasn't so easily dissipated.

Sizidala took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, still wanting to say something.

However, Reid's voice rang out again, interrupting him. "When you return to Meereen, deliver a message from me to the Meereen Council."

"Please speak, and I will repeat it word for word to the twenty pyramid families."

Reed Seres' tone was languid, yet his words carried an undeniable authority. "Tell them that because of their baseless accusations against me, and their premeditated entrapment and attack, I, Reed Seres, formally declare a war of retaliatory action against Meereen to reclaim the retribution I deserve—the right to rule Meereen."

"One month. You have a month to prepare. I don't care if you buy the Unsullied, seek allies, or even go to Westeros across the sea to ask the Targaryen Dragon King for help. Gather as much resistance as possible. After one month, I will bring my army, and we will fight a fair fight. Let the outcome of the war decide the ownership of this city."

Hizdala was deeply shaken. He realized that Meereen had underestimated its enemy. This was not merely the beginning of a war, but another clash between the remnants of the Gugis and the descendants of the Dragon King after Valyria's "Doomsday."

He had to bring this message back to Meereen, to make all the Great Lords understand that they were facing a true Dragon King, who not only possessed terrifying dragons capable of destroying cities and nations, but also likely an army large enough to make him arrogant enough to want to attack Meereen. He had to do something to stop this guy.

Hitzdala took a deep breath, striving to keep his voice calm and firm: "Your Majesty, I understand your decision, but please allow me, beyond the message I'm conveying here, to make a final effort for reconciliation. We all know that war brings endless suffering and destruction, yet! A prosperous Meereen is the goal all rulers dream of. A Meereen ravaged by war, hostile and isolated by surrounding cities, will not only bring no value to its rulers, but will become a heavy burden!"

"The twenty great families of the pyramids have deep roots in Meereen. We have lived and ruled this land for two centuries since the Valyrian 'Cataclysm.' We may not be able to completely protect our city from invasion, but we are certainly capable of ensuring that no conqueror can take her whole."

"Therefore, I implore you, for the benefit of both sides, that we jointly seek a peaceful solution. Meereen can offer substantial compensation, open our markets, and establish mutually beneficial economic relations. After all, the long-term benefits of peace far outweigh the one-off, short-term gains of war."

Reed scrutinized Sizdala, whose demeanor was neither humble nor arrogant, whose words were reasonable and well-founded, and whose arguments clearly distinguished between advantages and disadvantages. Reed couldn't help but praise him, saying, "You are not only an outstanding military commander, but also a man of great political talent."

Under Hitzdal's expectant gaze, Reid's next words were as cold as a knife: "But you can't convince me. This isn't just a personal grudge between us, nor is it about money. It's about your barbaric traditions, the poor children torn apart by wild beasts in the arena, the men, women, and children, barely clothed and being bought and sold like commodities in the streets, the slave laborers toiling day and night in your workshops, covered in dust and dirt, yet never having enough to eat, and the endless slave trade that exists because of your existence..."

"The wealth of Meereen is merely a secondary objective. My primary goal is to destroy this system of rule that I despise and to end the cycle of the slave trade—or rather, a sufficiently noble and just pretext for war. Pardara once told me that when one is of low status and power, one must submit to reality and learn to adapt to the existing rules. But now, I want to change the rules, to destroy these things that I find objectionable. Do you think slave owners will abolish slavery under the coercion of dragons and swords?"

Hitzdal fell silent. What Reed wanted to destroy was precisely what they had to protect. Getting Reed to change his mind was virtually impossible.

"Please deliver to me as soon as possible the chest of gold that Pardara promised me in the wasteland, along with that fat bastard Oelris and his entourage, and their valuables. When we meet again, remember to wear some bright red feathers on your head so I can easily recognize you. You are a talent, and I will not burn you. I look forward to having you serve me after I conquer Meereen."

After Reid finished speaking, he turned and left, leaving Sidzidala standing alone in the wind, bewildered.