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Essos, Xandar
12th Moon of 57 AC
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Winter, although incapable of biting as harshly in southern Essos as it did in the kingdoms of Westeros, manifested in Xandar through an eastern wind that carried the scent of saltpeter and the heavy humidity of the Summer Sea. However, inside the Great Tower of the Sun, the cold outside was a distant reality. The breathing systems that Caspian himself had designed ran through the stone bowels of the building, maintaining a constant and comfortable temperature in the High Council Chamber. These systems were engineered to preserve an optimal temperature, whether conditions were scorching or freezing.
The circular table of ebony wood and gold filigree hosted only seven of the most illustrious and pragmatic minds in the kingdom. Caspian was far away, consolidating his army of riders in the vast Grass Sea, and with him were Essino, the High Rider, and Valka, the Supreme Leader of the Order of the Witches. In the monarch's absence, the heavy responsibility of maintaining the gears of the most 'powerful' kingdom in the world fell upon this conclave.
Prime Minister Hayek presided over the session. He wore a fine, dark-gray wool robe with silver embroidery that denoted his status as head of government and Caspian's executive hand. To his left, with a serenity that commanded both respect and unease, sat Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Red Temple, whose crimson vestments seemed to absorb the light from the rock crystal lamps. Across from her, Ismael, the Minister of Trade, nimbly flipped through a series of papers and ledgers filled with markings, missives, and registries. Completing the circle were Korra, the Minister of Laws, with her usual stern countenance; Gerald, the Minister of Health, examining demographic reports; and General Galileo, the Minister of Defense, whose imposing physical presence and light armor served as a reminder that Xandar, prosperous as it was, remained a kingdom born of conquest and Dothraki strength.
"We begin this extraordinary session of the High Council," Hayek announced, his deep and measured voice silencing the subtle rustling of shifting papers. "The king has entrusted us with the administration of the crown in his absence, and the reports arriving from the east demand macroeconomic and logistical decisions of unprecedented magnitude. Let us begin with the demographic front. Minister Gerald, the floor is yours."
Gerald, a mature man with serene eyes and a cold, almost cruel expression, but possessing a mathematical mind, nodded and unfolded a detailed map of Xandar's suburban districts.
"The humanitarian crisis triggered by the massive liberation of the slaves from Vaes Dothrak has been brought under control, but the figures continue to defy our predictive models, Prime Minister. To date, we have received, processed, and housed one million seven hundred thousand individuals in the residential complexes of the northern and eastern peripheries. The influx does not cease, and sanitary inspectors are working fourteen-hour shifts. Thanks to the strict healing and treatment protocols enforced by the Order of the Witches, we have averted epidemic outbreaks of dysentery or greyscale—afflictions that in any other city of Essos would have already decimated half of such a population."
"What is the status of legal and social assimilation, Minister Korra?" Hayek inquired, turning his gaze toward the jurist.
Korra rested her arms on the table, clasping her fingers firmly.
"The transposition of one and a half million souls from a regime of absolute servitude to a system of contractual citizenship is a delicate social process," she explained in a clear voice. "Nonetheless, the Xandarian methodology is proving its effectiveness. The former slaves are being instructed in the Fundamental Laws and the Civil Code within community groups led by our magistrates. The concept of private property and the right to a fair wage for their labor act as the finest catalysts for social peace. Petty crimes are rare; these people dread losing the oasis of security that Xandar offers them. Furthermore, the cooperation of Volantene builders and local engineers has been pivotal in rapidly channeling them into the labor market."
"And it is precisely that labor force that is transforming our economy at a dizzying pace," Ismael, the Minister of Trade, interjected, a smile of genuine professional satisfaction gracing his face. "Prime Minister, Lords of the Council... Xandar's shipyards are experiencing a technical miracle. With the incorporation of more than three hundred thousand former slave laborers, supervised by the Volantene master caulkers who assimilated our modular assembly techniques, the launch rate of new vessels has tripled. We are not only constructing war junks for the defense of our waters, but also deep-draft brigantines—broad-bellied ships designed to optimize long-distance freight transport."
Ismael paused to adjust a map of maritime and agricultural routes in the center of the table.
"This surge in the workforce coincides with a historic harvest in the southern lands. The introduction of bonemeal and the three-field crop rotation have yielded a surplus of grains, vegetables, and barley that exceeds our storage expectations for the next three years. However, this brings us to the second point on today's agenda, which is of a logistical nature."
"Vaes Yeraan," General Galileo, the Minister of Defense, noted, crossing his arms over his chest. "The king has concentrated the ten unified hordes of the Great Grass Sea in that northern fortress city. We are speaking of over half a million warriors, along with their families and livestock. The population of Vaes Yeraan has multiplied tenfold in a matter of a month. It is a logistical time bomb."
"Precisely, General," Ismael agreed. "The consumption of grain and medical supplies in the north has skyrocketed exponentially. I formally propose the immediate redirection of three-quarters of our agricultural surplus toward Vaes Yeraan. We must establish heavily guarded overland convoys along the eastern routes and activate the northern river channels to ensure that the king's horde does not suffer famines that could destabilize their discipline. Xandar has the food; the challenge lies in its swift and secure distribution."
"Overland logistics are secure on our stretch," Galileo affirmed. "The Hordes themselves can guarantee the safety of the convoys up to the borders of the Grass Sea, but Xandar's global security depends on our external commercial arteries. And that is where the outlook begins to darken."
The Minister of Defense pointed to a specific region on the maritime map: an archipelago of rocky crags and treacherous islets stretching between the southern tip of Westeros and the western coast of Essos.
"The Stepstones," Galileo pronounced gravely. "The reports from our naval scouts confirm a troubling shift in activity in the area. This is no longer a matter of independent pirate captains bickering over the plunder of a straggling merchantman. There are clear indicators of a superior organizational structure. Privateer ships are operating in flotilla formations, employing signal codes, and utilizing well-provisioned logistical bases on the primary islands. It is a militarized organization."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Hayek arched an eyebrow, analyzing the geopolitical implications.
"Have they dared to interfere with Xandarian traffic, General?"
"So far, no," Galileo replied, shaking his head. "No vessel flying the banner of the purple dragon has been intercepted or attacked. The privateers sheer away or limit themselves to watching from a distance when our brigantines patrol the edges of our trade waters. But that very selectivity is what alarms me, Prime Minister. A common pirate attacks out of greed, regardless of the flag. If they respect our ships while raiding those of the Free Cities, it is because they are obeying direct orders from a central command that fears our reprisal... or they are being used as an instrument of economic warfare against third parties, funded and supported from the shadows by one of the Free Cities or even from Westeros."
"Or by more than one," Korra murmured thoughtfully. "Myr or Tyrosh might be interested in diverting their rivals' attention southward, or perhaps Pentos seeks to weaken maritime trade in the Narrow Sea to bolster its overland routes."
It was then that Ismael cleared his throat, picking up a document sealed with wax that did not belong to the Xandarian bureaucracy. The Minister of Trade looked intently at Hayek.
"This brings me to a foreign policy matter that was left pending from the last session and directly touches upon this issue. I have received the minutes of Magister Groleo's proposal regarding our relations with Pentos. Groleo insists, through his dispatches, that Xandar should sign an exclusive trade treaty with a single great noble house of Pentos, arguing that this would guarantee us a heavyweight political ally within that city's Magisterium and stabilize traffic in the Narrow Sea."
Ismael tossed the parchment onto the table with overt disdain.
"I categorically and irrevocably oppose Magister Groleo's stance. Xandar is not a pawn for any merchant faction of the Free Cities, nor will it compromise its economic sovereignty for the palace intrigues of Pentos. The foreign policy of my ministry has been clear since day one: Xandar's trade is free, universal, and sovereign. We will not close our borders or our ports to anyone to satisfy the interests of a single noble house that holds power today and might end up in exile or under the executioner's axe tomorrow."
"Magister Groleo seeks political security through economics, Ismael," Hayek observed, maintaining the neutrality befitting his office. "A strong ally in Pentos is a good thing; it could even counter the influence of the other Magisters while sowing rivalries among them, something we could exploit."
"At the cost of making enemies out of the rest of the Pentoshi Magisterium and other rival forces!" Ismael countered vehemently. "Xandar's market is built on the excellence of our products, not on foreign political stratagems. Any merchant, magister, or captain who is willing to pay our tariffs, respect our laws in port, and bring legitimate gold or raw materials that we require will be received with open arms in Xandar. I will not discriminate between northern or southern houses, nor will I participate in private embargos. And unless there is a direct, explicit order signed by the hand of our King Caspian himself, the policy of Free Trade will remain the law of this realm."
Korra nodded in approval.
"From the perspective of the king's commercial law, Ismael is correct. An exclusive mercantile treaty would drag us into jurisdictional disputes and make us co-signers to the debts and enemies of that Pentoshi house. Commercial neutrality is our best legal defense while the king consolidates the terrestrial front."
"Let it be so, then," Hayek dictated, noting the resolution in his ledger. "Ismael's stance stands as the official line of the government. There will be no monopolies or exclusivity in the Narrow Sea. Xandar's free market shall prevail until His Majesty decrees otherwise. Let us move to the next matter. Minister Korra, I understand we have diplomatic correspondence from Westeros."
Korra drew out a fine parchment document, sealed with the yellow wax of House Martell of Sunspear.
"It is a missive signed by Princess Mara Martell of Dorne," Korra explained, extending the document toward the Prime Minister. "The princess expresses her admiration for the rise of Xandar and formally proposes the establishment of a permanent Dornish delegation in our capital, accompanied by a mutual aid agreement and tariff concessions for Dornish wines and spices, in exchange for establishing Xandarian trade routes toward them."
Hayek took the letter, read it swiftly in silence, and then laid it on the table with deliberate care. The veteran politician looked at the members of the Council, weighing the gravity of his words.
"Dorne is the only one of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros that has managed to resist conquest by the dragons of House Targaryen," Hayek commented in a measured voice. "An alliance with Sunspear would afford us an enviable geopolitical position at the gates of the Narrow Sea and a safe harbor just north of the Stepstones. However... Westerosi politics is a nest of vipers that King Caspian prefers to observe from a distance for the time being. The Targaryens view any movement by Dorne with suspicion, and an explicit military or technical association between Xandar and the Martells could be interpreted by King's Landing as a direct provocation."
"Are you suggesting we reject the proposal, Prime Minister?" Gerald asked.
"I am suggesting what prudence dictates in the king's absence," Hayek answered firmly. "Just as with the Pentos proposal, Xandar's high-level diplomacy will not take a single false step without the king's approval. I will not reply to Princess Mara Martell nor compromise the position of the crown until I receive direct orders from the Grand Khan. File the missive away with high priority. When the monarch's messengers return from Vaes Dothrak, this document will be the first item on his agenda. Meanwhile, we will maintain a formal and dilatory courtesy with whatever emissaries are sent on behalf of the princess."
Kinvara, who had remained in an almost mystical silence throughout the session, tilted her head slightly, causing the large ruby on her choker to flash under the light.
"The fire shows that Xandar's destiny is bound to the sands of Dorne," the priestess spoke, her voice melodic and laden with a strange certainty. "The flames of the Lord of Light burn less intensely in the east. It is there that the steel must be tempered before looking toward the sunset. The king walks upon the grass, but his eyes are fixed on Slaver's Bay."
Hayek nodded toward Kinvara, acknowledging the transition of the conversation toward the final, most strategic, and confidential point on the day's agenda.
"That leads us, inevitably, to the final and most significant matter of this gathering," the Prime Minister declared, leaning forward. "The military and civil expansion of Xandar requires an internal security and vanguard force that does not rely solely on forces fresh out of training or on the Dothraki warriors, whose nature remains inherently mobile and adapted to the plains. We need an absolute defensive heavy infantry corps. An iron anvil upon which our civilization can rest. And the king was very clear in his secret directives before marching to the Grass Sea."
Hayek fixed his gaze directly upon the Minister of Trade.
"Ismael, your next mission will not take you to the Free Cities of the north, but south to Slaver's Bay. You will travel to Astapor."
Ismael straightened his spine, his eyes gleaming with the intensity of the challenge before him. The slave trade was proscribed within Xandar's borders, but the kingdom's pragmatism allowed it to use the tools of the old world to build the foundations of the new.
"I am aware of the king's instructions, Prime Minister," Ismael said resolutely. "My mission is clear: to buy every last Unsullied that the city of Astapor has in its barracks and training grounds. We will not leave a single trained soldier in the hands of the Good Masters if we can avoid it."
"The financial logistics of an operation of such magnitude could destabilize the treasury of any other nation," Gerald remarked with sarcasm. "The Unsullied are the most expensive soldiers in the known world. Buying an entire generation of them will require tons of gold."
"Fortunately, Xandar is not just any other nation, Minister Gerald," Ismael countered with a smile. "Our vaults are overflowing thanks to the export of tempered steel tools, high-quality glass, textile products, and the efficient collection of our taxes. Not to mention the mines that yield gold and precious metals without any sign of stopping. But the key to this negotiation is not simply a bulk purchase. The king's directive is to establish an absolute monopoly of military force in the region."
The Minister of Trade pressed his finger down firmly on the map, over the outline of Astapor.
"The proposal I will lay before the council of the Good Masters of Astapor will be so bold that they will be unable to reject it under any mercantile logic. Xandar will offer to pay triple the standard market value for every Unsullied, whether he is a ten-year veteran or a youth who has barely completed his training. We will triple any competing offer that comes from Pentos, Qarth, or the rest of the Free Cities."
"Triple?" Korra arched her eyebrows. "That is an astronomical sum, Ismael. The Good Masters are greedy, but they are also suspicious. They might fear we are building an army to destroy them."
"The greed of those who traffic in human flesh always outweighs their prudence, Minister Korra," Kinvara intervened, her smile tinged with cold irony. "When they see Xandar's vessels laden with pure gold ingots and the promise of wealth that will secure luxury for their houses for generations, their minds will cloud before the glitter of the metal. The Lord of Light blinds the proud before their fall."
"There is a condition the Masters must sign for the gold to be delivered," Ismael continued, bypassing the priestess's mysticism to focus on pure contractual strategy. "They must accept an absolute and perpetual exclusivity clause. Xandar will become the sole, exclusive, and definitive buyer of Unsullied in the world. Astapor will not be permitted to sell a single military slave to any other power, faction, or individual without the express consent of our crown. If they accept, their prosperity is guaranteed by our gold; if they violate the treaty, the contract will stipulate commercial sanctions and even war that will choke their very lives out."
"It is a masterstroke," General Galileo admitted, a glint of military admiration in his eyes. "By depriving the rest of Essos of access to the Unsullied, we strip the Free Cities and rival kingdoms of their finest defensive asset. If any of them wish to hire elite infantry to protect their walls, they will have to request them from us or resort to common mercenaries, whose loyalty is bought with one more silver coin—something Xandar also has in abundance. Xandar will control the market of defensive warfare across the entire continent."
"And what will be the fate of those soldiers once they set foot on Xandarian soil, Minister?" Gerald asked, a shadow of ethical concern crossing his features. "Will they remain as slaves in our service? Our own laws forbid involuntary servitude."
"King Caspian has already foreseen that dilemma, Gerald," Hayek replied, taking up the floor. "The Unsullied we purchase in Astapor will be formally emancipated the moment their feet touch the deck of a Xandarian vessel. They will be offered a special status within our state structure: the Royal Spear Corps of Xandar. They will not serve by the whip; they will serve for a dignified wage, first-class housing, medical care guaranteed by your ministry, and, most importantly, the honor of being the protectors of a kingdom that recognizes them as free men and full citizens. Their discipline will not break; it will transform into an unshakeable loyalty toward the monarch who broke their chains and delivered them from the tyrants who castrated them."
Ismael gathered his parchments, securing them inside a leather cylinder reinforced with bronze.
"I shall depart at dawn with General Galileo's vanguard flotilla. I am taking the city's finest accountants and translators with me. When I return, Slaver's Bay will have begun to change hands, even if the Masters do not yet realize it."
Hayek stood up, a gesture immediately mirrored by the other six members of the High Council. The eastern wind continued to howl against the high windows of the Tower of the Sun, but in the heart of Xandar, the machinery of the empire operated with the chronometric precision of an hourglass.
"The session is adjourned," the Prime Minister concluded. "May order prevail in our streets, may wheat flow to our tables, and may Xandarian steel continue to forge the destiny of the world. For the king."
"For the king," the voices of the Council answered in a firm and solemn unison.
The ministers began to vacate the room, each with a list of tasks that would move the strings of millions of people across the length and breadth of Essos. Xandar, under the guidance of its High Council and the vision of its absent king, continued its unstoppable ascent, transforming the chaos of the old continent into a new order of stone, laws, and iron.