Part One - Venturing East
“Salt?” Rhaenyra stared at them blearily. She grabbed a random parchment from her overflowed desk, realizing it was her essay on the history of Stormland before Aegon the Conqueror which she passed to Layla before finally finding the correct one.
She was stuck with a mountain of paperwork as Martyn had taken a leave of absence (he was currently in Scarwood, negotiating about new grain export but really he was actually visiting Yanli, who was there for a relative’s wedding,much to everyone’s glee) and was feeling the effects of loss of sleep when Maester Sebell and some men entered her solar, carrying with them a pot of salt.
“There’s always a demand for salt, Your Highness.” Gwyn, head of the fishing community in Grey Gallow explained. “We were using the usual method of using shallow pools to dry the salt when we noticed the dragons sunning at Dragon’s Den (the new name for the Tor after Syrax accepted Grey Ghost’s courtship) and abundant of white salts from their resting area.”
He opened the pot and gave it to Princess Rhaenyra. “We harvested the salt and after filtering it, we realized that the salt is different from what we normally produce, with a more pleasant and smoky flavor to it, especially when we use it to preserve our catches.”
Tasting the salt, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but agree, the normal sea salt they produced so far has a clean taste with a subtle briny flavor while this salt was more subtle, with a milder sweet flavor with hints of smokiness.
Well, Martyn did mention the possibility of turning salt production into a unique product to help augment the island’s trade.
“Shall we take a trip?” She asked brightly.
Rhaenyra, joined by her ladies, her uncle Vaegon, his assistants and half of the fishing community, watched as Syrax burned one of the shallow salt pools, cheering as huge chunks of salts can be seen on the bottom of the now dried lake.
Even Grey Ghost, noticing what the humans were doing with his mate, even helped by blowing fire at the shallow pools with its beautiful white flames.
“Fascinating.” Vaegon observed as some of the village children went to the dried lake and fetched the salt for them. “It is coarse and still grainy, darker than normal smoked salt that we use too. But with the correct filtration process, yes we can indeed create salt.”
“This is good then, Uncle?” Rhaenyra asked as people began to gather up the salt after it cooled. “We can use it to supplement our trade?”
A laugh burst out from Vaegon unbidden. “Good? No child, this is better than good, this is magnificent. Think Rhaenyra,” He pointed at Syrax and Grey Ghost, preening under the children’s adulations, “Unlike other salt production, we do not have to think about the limitation of climate or the need of fuel, or to consider the cost of production, all we need and now have, are the sea and the dragons.”
“Have you not realized it, child? We are currently standing on a goldmine. With this unlimited supply of salt, we no longer have to rely on just your mother’s dowry and build Stepstones the way we want it to be.” Vaegon’s smile looked a bit deranged as he left his great niece and began to direct the villagers on how to create a better filtration system for the shallow pools.
Rhaenyra stared at the chunk of black salt wordlessly until Syrax left her adoring fans and nudged her rider with her snout.
“Ao gōntan sȳrī ñuha gevives. kirimvose syt dohaeragon īlva. (You did well, my beauty. Thank you for helping us.)” Rhaenyra said as she patted her dragon.
“The North, Your Highness?” Martyn, finally back from Scarwood (Rosamund had giggly told everyone her uncle had spent most of the visit following Yanli around), looked away from the figures on salt production.
“The North would need it, especially with their harsh lands, and their constant need to preserve food and we can trade it in return for their lumber, something we sorely need. And if we trade with the Vale, we can have the granite and stone as well as surplus wheat for our people.” Rhaenyra points out.
“Right, so how are you going to explain why we are not going to trade with King's Landing and Reach other than House Beesbury?” Martyn asked sardonically as everyone in the meeting giggled.
“Umm, we might not have enough to trade with them?” The princess asked sweetly.
“And yet you propose we trade the rest with Essos?” Everyone burst into laughter as Rhaenyra’s cheeks turned red. “Mind you, I like the projected number, but where do you propose we go?”
“Maybe split into two teams, one go north of Essos and the other go down south? Maybe even to Yi Ti?” Yanli traced her finger across the world map of Planetos Daemion had in his belongings. “I would love to see Yi Ti again.” She whispered wistfully.
“We can trade with Yi Ti.” Martyn quickly suggested, his eyes on the beautiful girl. Around him, everyone giggled again, aware of the man’s growing affection for Rhaenyra’s lady in waiting.
“Really? I would love to show you the Grove of the Mothers and the Lotus Lake of Wuhei where my family is from.” Yanli smiled happily as Martyn was struck dumb by her smile again.
Rhaenyra looked at the map, her hand traced the location where Valyria was inscribed on. “I would love to see the ruins of Valyria.” She whispered wistfully, remembering vaguely the tales her grandfather Baelon and Daemon would tell her when she was a toddler.
“Me?! You must be mad, child!! I can’t be regent of Stepstones while you’re away!” Vaegon bellowed angrily as everyone made their preparations.
“Well, you did say I should broaden my horizons.” Rhaenyra said brightly. “And Grandaunt Rhaella wanted to see the ruins of Valyria and I really needed a Targaryen to stay here to protect my kingdom, especially since the North will be sending a delegation soon to negotiate a trading treaty with Stepstones.”
“How about me, don’t you think I want to see the ruins as well?” Vaegon said grumpily.
Rhaella, who was looking vacantly out at sea, turned back to them and gave Vaegon a severe look. “Honestly young man, are you suggesting I stay behind while the two of you gallivanting off?” I am an old, decrepit woman and this might be my last chance to go and you want me to stay?” She said incredulously.
“I’m not a young man and you’re not an old woman, aunt.” Vaegon grumbled. “Oh fine! Make sure you record all the findings you learn during the trip and bring me samples and books from every port you visit.”
The young princess grinned before hugging her great uncle. “I will. I’ll even make sure Layla paints all the sceneries we see so you can see them too, uncle. Do try not to scare our potential partners off with your grumpiness!”
Vaegon tweaked her ears, patted her on the head before shooing her off. Everyone on Bloodstone gathered to watch them off, even the sea was full of floating flotillas and boats from other islands waving at the three ships.
Syrax with Rhaenyra and Elinda on her back, soared through the air, Grey Ghost keening loudly but didn’t follow them, instead turning his attention to Vaegon who grumpily shooed him off.
During the long voyage, Rhaenyra and Rhaella took a brief detour to the Ruin of Valyria on Syrax, staying on its cursed land long enough for them to lay down a bouquet of flowers they procured from Volantis and prayed before leaving the dark, smoky land with its stranger creatures lurking out of sight.
After three long months at sea (and visiting several ports to trade and refuel) they finally arrived in Yi Ti and successfully negotiated trading between the budding island and the great nation, especially for its spices, exotic teas and beautiful silks. (Rhaenyra wondered if they could learn how Yi Ti creates its famous silkworm silks but Yanli had told her that it was one of the Nation’s well-guarded secrets.)
Visiting Wuhei was fun as they met with Yanli’s family who still lives in Yi Ti and watching Martyn trying to court Yanli under the baleful gaze of her family.
Rhaenyra even managed to persuade the Lans, a distant relative to the Hans and famous for their craftsmanship including delicate porcelain work, and the Wens, a family famous for their medical innovations and healing abilities, to move to Stepstones with them.
It was on their way back that they encountered a problem.
The Pearl Dream, one of Daemion Velaryon’s ships that joined the expedition had somehow managed to sprung a leak, one that needed them to visit one of the ports for extensive repairs and the nearest one was in Slaver’s Bay.
After great discussion, they agreed to make the stop at Astapor. Restless, Rhaenyra, accompanied by Rosamund and Martyn Beesbury, guarded by a platoon of men led by Aemon Celtigar, disembarked and visited the city whilst the rest stayed behind, with Mylessa guarding Rhaella, who was feeling ill.
Rhaenyra was horrified to see what she could see in the Plaza of Pride where bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, tutors, and soldiers were sold, treated like mere cattles.
There, at the port, they were met by Yezzan zo Qaggaz, a slave master who had heard about their expedition and had approached her group in hope to secure the exclusivity of salt trade with Stepstones. Discussing the possibility of trading between them, he led them to the Plaza of Pride, where they can see the red brick fountain with the monstrous hammered bronze harpy rearing twenty feet tall in the middle, surrounded by the bustling flesh market.
“Your Highness.” Rosamund stared in horror as a man groped a naked girl younger than herself then dragged her away by the iron collar around her neck. She felt like throwing up, thanks to her mediocre understanding of Valyrian, as she listened to the horrifying treatment Unsullied suffered under the slave masters. She could see Martyn looked horrified as if he couldn’t believe such an atrocity was happening in front of him and terrified that he had taken his niece and the Princess here.
But Rhaenyra, both Rosamund and Martyn realized, was stoic as she listened to the slave master recount his recent attempts to train his slaves with such relish in his voice.
“I want all the slaves and the unsullied you have, I will buy them all.” She suddenly said calmly albeit with a look of fury in her eyes.
“You cannot afford it little girl. The unsullied themselves are expensive and a valuable commodity.” The slave master sneered at her.
“I can pay for it, so I want all of them; all bed slaves, fieldhands, labourers, scribes, craftsmen, tutors, and the unsullied.”Rhaenyra gritted her teeth in frustration. “I don’t care how much you want, I will pay for it.”
“300,000 dragon golds.” Yezzan zo Qaggaz said greedily.
“Done.” Rhaenyra spat, waving Rosamund over with the golden chest containing all of the money they had bought for the expedition, ignoring the fact the slaver had scalped her with the severely inflated price. As much as she (and Syrax) longed to set the entire Slaver’s Bay on fire and bring it to submission, she was too weak and powerless to do so.
Buying all the slaves in the city and taking them under her protection were the only thing she could do for now.
“Load them onto our ships. If it is too much, try to charter any westerosi ships to help assist us. We will not remain in this vile city a moment too soon.” Martyn, understanding her helplessness quite well, nodded before leaving to arrange for their transport.
Within hours, her three ships and another Velaryon ship (that was there on a trading expedition) were full to the brim with the slaves Rhaenyra had bought. Watching as the last of the unsullied she had purchased boarding the ships, the young princess turned to Yezzan zo Qaggaz. “Consider our negotiation failed, for Stepstone will never trade with slavers.”
The Good Master turned furious, stepping forward to argue with her when Syrax roared, roaring a plume of fire into the air, turning all the slave masters on the docks pale in fright, reminding them that the young child in front of them was a princess and dragon rider descended from Valyrian.
Without sparing another glance, Rhaenyra and Rosamund climbed on top of Syrax and flew, escorting her ships as they left Slaver’s Bay behind them.
After somewhile and a fair distance from the horrible city, the princess signaled for the ships to stop, Syrax hovering over them all as slaves, unsullied and the ship’s crew alike listened to what the princess wanted to say.
“All of you have been slaves for your entire life. They have taken away your name, your dignity and your identity. But not any longer. For today I give you freedom. Any man, any woman who wishes to leave, you may leave with my blessing and no one will harm them. You are now free!!” Rhaenyra threw the golden whip into the air and with sharp dracarys, Syrax turned it into ashes.
“You are free!!”
The now freedmen wept and cheered alike, chanting Kaerīnio, Kaerīnioagain and again as Syrax descended just low enough for Rhaenyra and Rosamund to slide down from her wing and into the empty crow nest of the Realm Delight.
“What are they saying, Nyra?” Rosamund asked, wide-eyed as the cheers turned louder by the second.
“Kaerīnio. It means savior.” Finally Rhaenyra’s iron-clad control broke as she turned and wept against her friend’s chest, crying that she could only do so little for them and yet they had looked at her as if she had given them the world.
Rosamund could only console her with her words and a hug, grieved that her little princess had to witness such suffering.