Cadillac was not exaggerating.
The port of Volantis occupied the entire mouth of the Rhoyne River, and the dock district stretched as far as the eye could see. Ships from all over the world could be found here.
The piers extending into the sea were like bristles on a wild boar's hide—varying in length and densely packed.
And among these countless piers, not a single one was empty; all were crowded with sea vessels and riverboats.
Warships, whaling ships, and trade galleys; large and small sailing ships; flat-bottomed boats, large barges, longships, and swan ships. There were ships from Oldtown, White Harbor, King's Landing, Lys, Tyrosh, and Pentos. There were spice ships from Qarth as large as palaces, and vessels from Yi Ti, Asshai, and Helcoryn. Even the caravans transporting goods to the docks stretched for more than ten kilometers.
Even as the last traces of red light faded beyond the western horizon, thousands—tens of thousands—of slave laborers remained hard at work, bare-chested, loading and unloading goods under the glow of torches.
Seated high atop the elephant carriage, Dany's expression was complex.
On the dark sea, torches flickered like stars, and the chaotic shouts were deafening. The air was thick with the scent of salt, fish, sweat, urine, and excrement, an overwhelming assault on the senses.
This was undoubtedly a world-class seaport, but its prosperity was built entirely on low-cost—often costless—slave labor.
Dock workers, galley rowers, street porters, palanquin bearers, inn and tavern servants, prostitutes on the street—even the farmers on the manors outside the city—were almost all slaves.
Now, she began to understand why the Alliance and the United Nations had formed.
Without slaves, the cost of living and commerce in the Free Cities would skyrocket tenfold overnight.
And with that, the flourishing maritime trade of this world would collapse.
Dany was not just destroying slavery; she was strangling oceanic commerce itself.
If she succeeded, global trade would immediately be cut in half.
Beyond the skyrocketing cost of maritime trade, the market would face a complete collapse. Under her rule, people would revert to self-sufficient agrarian economies, no longer needing foreign goods—much like the ancient Celestial Empire.
The Celestial Empire had struggled to develop maritime trade precisely because, throughout its dynasties, it rarely needed foreign products. Even when the Southern Song lost vast northern territories and had to rely on maritime trade for survival, the Song people still exported far more than they imported.
If islands filled with elixirs of longevity had existed overseas, each containing varying amounts of life-extending medicine—
Well, just life-extending, not granting immortality—
Then even before the Song Dynasty, the emperors of the Celestial Empire might have already crowned themselves as "World Leaders."
"Unless something can replace slaves and provide merchants with equally cheap labor," Dany muttered with a bitter smile, shaking her head.
As a modern person, did she not know what was even cheaper than slaves?
Machines!
The elephant carriage creaked forward. Dany covered her nose with a silk scarf and softly asked the knight beside her, "How long has the Citadel existed?"
The old man frowned in thought before shaking his head. "I'm not sure. Some First Men claim they arrived in Westeros ten thousand years ago, but some maesters argue that the entire history of Westeros is only two thousand years old.
"Your Grace could recruit some maesters from Oldtown. The scholars of Slaver's Bay will not help you understand your homeland."
"Even if the Citadel was established two thousand years ago, tell me—have they invented the steam engine?" Dany asked.
"The what?"
The 'ji' from 'Chicken You Are So Beautiful'!
"Ser, have you ever seen a boiling kettle?"
"Of course."
"Then has any maester ever thought to mimic a kettle by building a large iron contraption that—well, that—" Dany's face scrunched up in frustration before she finally said, "—that can expel steam while spinning, turning a metal wheel?"
"No." The old knight's tone was firm.
"Are you sure you just don't know about it?"
The old man sighed. "Your Grace, though I do not understand what you are describing, it sounds exceedingly complex. With Westeros' current blacksmithing skills, such a thing would be impossible to create."
"Sigh, I'll have to go to the Citadel myself," Dany muttered helplessly.
There was no doubt that, after Valyria's downfall, the Citadel and Asshai had become the foremost centers of knowledge in this world.
Moreover, the maesters possessed a strong spirit of exploration and curiosity. They primarily focused on scientific fields and represented the peak of this world's productive capacity.
"Hey, hey, hey," Cadillac, seated on the elephant's back, turned to Dany and made exaggerated facial expressions.
"What?" She looked puzzled.
"You still haven't told me about that woman." The driver grumbled.
"I thought you—"
Dany suddenly burst into laughter. "Alright, I understand."
"Astan, I heard the Mother of Dragons hatched another dragon in Yunkai?" she called loudly to the knight beside her.
The knight was momentarily stunned, unsure of how to respond.
"Ahem." Dany pointed toward the elephant's back, where the driver was eavesdropping with his ear turned.
The old knight caught on and smiled wryly. "Indeed! I heard people talking about it at the docks of New Ghis…"
The two of them played along, vividly depicting the bright future of Slaver's Bay.
"Make way! Make way for the esteemed lords and ladies of Braavos!"
Cadillac shouted in the local tongue, loudly scolding nearby sailors and slaves to clear a path while keeping his ears pricked to catch every word spoken by his two passengers behind him.
Judging by his keen enthusiasm, he was clearly quite excited.
"Hey, Braavosi, have you lost your minds? That wretched Mother of Dragons isn't as good as you say!" someone bellowed angrily from the side.
Dany and Barristan naturally wouldn't speak ill of themselves. While they didn't go as far as to proclaim that the Mother of Dragons was a divine savior sent to redeem the world, they did truthfully recount her policies and their significance for the newly freed people.
The street wasn't exactly packed shoulder to shoulder, but the sheer size of the elephants and elephant carts made it seem that way—elephants walking almost trunk to tail, wheels of the carts nearly touching. Every now and then, two massive wooden wheels would collide, producing a creaking groan from the cart.
More importantly, the elephant carts had no canopies. They were more like chairs placed on flat carts, completely open on all sides.
At that moment, a white elephant draped in colorful brocade walked alongside Dany's elephant cart. Seated atop it was a plump, middle-aged man with golden hair, dressed in a luxurious purple silk robe embroidered with intricate golden dragon designs at the cuffs and collar.
"You've been to Slaver's Bay?" The fat man's piggish, bulging eyes held obvious doubt.
"I'd like to go, but there aren't any merchant ships from New Ghis or Qohor heading there," Dany shrugged, speaking casually.
"Haha! You've never even been there, yet you're spouting nonsense?" The fat man laughed. "I have been there—I've even seen that woman. Let me tell you, her head is this big!" He gestured towards his own belly, swollen like a pregnant woman's.
"How is that possible?"
Before he could continue, an incredulous exclamation rang out from the elephant cart to Dany's right. The voice carried a foreign accent.
"I heard the Mother of Dragons is only fifteen or sixteen years old—a young and beautiful girl. No Targaryen has ever been ugly! How could she possibly have such a huge head?"
That cart carried two young men of similar age.
One was tall and well-built, with a handsome face and an air of elegance. His eyes were a deep, vivid blue, and his sandy-colored hair was streaked with gold.
The other had black hair and black eyes, a high forehead, a square jaw, and a broad nose—his features giving him an honest, simple look.
He was a bit shorter, about the same height as Dany, but solidly built with thick, muscular limbs.
It was this second young man who had shouted in shock, his face filled with disbelief.
"Why not?" The fat man turned his pig-like face toward the young man, pretending to be serious. "Do you know how she crushed the Ghis army?"
"I've heard of it. She's a brilliant strategist, leading her troops with godlike skill. She crushed an army of over a hundred thousand mercenaries, slave soldiers, and Ghiscari warriors with minimal losses. And what's even scarier—no one to this day knows her full battle strategy," the black-haired young man said, his expression complicated.
"There you have it!" The fat Valyrian clapped his hands and shouted, "Think about it! Without a head the size of a barrel, how could she support a ten-foot-tall body with a ten-foot-wide waist? And without such a towering, burly frame, how could she charge into battle, invincible and unstoppable?"
"This…" The black-haired young man was stunned.
Dany's lips twitched, and she reminded him, "She has dragons."
"Just young dragons, less than two years old," the Valyrian fat man declared confidently. "Our ancestors were noble Dragonlords—we know more about dragons than that woman ever could.
Besides, the mercenaries returning from the front lines all say the same thing: apart from throwing fire oil bombs at ships, her dragons haven't actually burned many people to death."
He spread his hands and looked down at Dany, then glanced at the two young men before loudly asking, "A dragon that just drops fire oil barrels is no more than a catapult. Tell me—are catapults terrifying?"
For once, Dany had no retort.
Theoretically, in the same amount of time, a dragon could launch fewer firebombs than a catapult.
A dragon's takeoff, landing, and reloading all took time.
But could a catapult match a dragon's accuracy and attack range?
"So, you see," the fat man concluded smugly, "a woman capable of defeating the Ghis Alliance must be ten feet tall, covered in rippling muscles, and built like a giant."
Dany stifled a laugh, deliberately paling as she said, "That's terrifying. I always thought she was a role model for female knights. I wanted to see her in person and witness her glory."
Seeing the young men thoroughly taken in, the fat man grew even more pleased with himself and continued, "That's not all. Everyone who's been to Slaver's Bay knows that woman is cruel and bloodthirsty. Even highborn nobles aren't spared—one small mistake, and she lops off their heads."
"Nobles weren't given special treatment?" The golden-haired young man was incredulous.
"Heh, do you consider exterminating entire noble families special treatment? That woman has a butcher under her command—Cleon the Greatbreaker. To claim an earl's title, he wiped out countless royal lineages that had stood for a thousand years. Royal families! Not just any noble houses."
"That level of madness is unimaginable," the golden-haired young man said, eyes wide.
"She's also a witch. She feeds her dragons with the blood and flesh of newborn babies. She mocks the gods, breaks treaties, deceives envoys, and slaughters the innocent.
And the fate of those she tires of? Tragic beyond words."
The fat man lowered his voice, adopting a chilling tone. "That woman steals a man's soul through intercourse."
"I must take this city," Dany whispered into Barristan's ear.
And I need to produce high-quality paper as soon as possible. The printing press is simple—Ghiscari are already masters of brick kilns. But making proper pulp for paper requires careful experimentation.
Toilet paper was already in production, but it was far from suitable for books.
Only with paper and printing could history be recorded and mass-produced.
(End of Chapter)
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