Chapter 77 - Conspiracies (V)

"Did I sign an agreement with the King of Hell?" Hizdahr muttered to himself, watching the city of Meereen in flames. A revolt had broken out in the first month of his rule.

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Hizdahr felt his heart almost explode with anxiety as he noticed the young king's cold eyes fixed on him, his eyes becoming more and more dangerous. His brain was screaming at him to stay put, flashing a gentle smile, while his heart was begging him to run away.

Being in Aenar's presence was like being in front of a lion, or rather a dragon, ready to devour him at any moment.

"Of course I'm joking, Lord Hizdahr. How could I kill you?" said Aenar, with a gentle smile on his lips. For a brief moment, he saw the fear on Hizdahr's face and felt pleased to be causing his opponent so much stress. It was necessary to put that man in his place; otherwise, he might start making unacceptable demands.

"What a funny joke, Your Grace," replied Hizdahr, keeping a smile on his face and hiding any trace of dissatisfaction he was feeling at the moment. He was well aware that, in his position, any sign of discontent could cost him his life in an instant.

Hizdahr understood that kings, rulers of Free Cities and lords were creatures with extremely inflated egos, driven by the ability to decide the fate of hundreds or millions. He knew this because he was now one of these figures, and even though, at that moment, he was hating every second of the conversation.

Never in his life had he felt so humiliated as he did at that moment. Aenar Targaryen was not offering him the respect that he, as the future king of the entire Slaver's Bay, thought he deserved.

It was eating away at him like a flame of rage and fury. Hizdahr wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn't. Not while the sword of the woman behind Aenar was ready to behead him at the king's slightest command. He knew the risks of this journey were great, but he hadn't expected Aenar to be so irrational.

However, he couldn't back down, not when the benefits of this conversation were so important. His future and all his ancestors' efforts were riding on this conversation, so how could he back down at this point?

Aenar, for his part, certainly knew what was going on in Hizdahr's mind. But did that worry him? The answer was an absolute no. Why should he care? After all, it wasn't him who was asking for something, but Hizdahr.

From the start of the conversation, the man had placed himself in an inferior position, one that Aenar had no intention of alleviating. Especially since Hizdahr was the main orchestrator of the future attack on Volantis from the Slaver's Bay. He had no intention of showing kindness to the cunning and intelligent man in front of him.

"Your Grace, I would like to orchestrate a theater." Hizdahr got straight to the point. He knew that the longer he remained in front of Aenar, the more disadvantages he would accumulate. The young king always seemed to have the upper hand in any situation.

Aenar and Tyrion exchanged interested glances when they heard the proposal. The king, in particular, looked away for a brief moment, glimpsing fragments of the future. His lips curved into an amused smile as he realized some interesting possibilities.

"I'm listening to your proposal," said Aenar, as he picked up a grape and chewed quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on Hizdahr, awaiting his next words.

Hizdahr breathed a sigh of relief. His biggest fear was that Aenar wouldn't be interested in the idea. However, as long as the king showed a modicum of curiosity, half the plan was already underway.

"I want to be a hero to the people of Slaver's Bay," declared Hizdahr, his ambition clearly evident in his voice. His brown eyes seemed to shine brightly, as if he could already envision the glorious moment when his name would be proclaimed by heralds to ecstatic crowds.

Although Aenar had expected something along those lines, his lips curved into a mocking smile. "So, you want me to back down during the attack, allowing you to gain the prestige of defeating the mighty mounted king who rode an enormous dragon? A theater to win the support of the upper classes of Slave Bay and crown yourself king?"

It was a bold proposal, but Aenar couldn't help but find Hizdahr's audacity amusing. It wasn't a completely bad plan, but it was far from foolproof either. He wondered how Hizdahr would handle the situation if Aenar didn't fulfill his promise.

After all, such an obvious lie could be exposed at any moment. And when the upper classes of the Three Cities found out that the newly crowned king of Meereen was actually a liar, Hizdahr wouldn't survive, no matter how much money or power he had.

However, Hizdahr's idea benefited only him. What would Aenar gain apart from bearing the infamy of losing a battle?

Noticing the doubts on the young king's face, Hizdahr smiled confidently and declared: "Ten thousand Unsullied, five million gold pieces and fifty warships."

The price surprised Tyrion. Although he had expected something exorbitant, he hadn't imagined that Hizdahr would be so bold and generous. Even so, the theatrical plan between Aenar and Hizdahr was far from perfect. What if Hizdahr wasn't crowned king in the end? He would be gambling big, at a colossal cost, only to guarantee nothing in the end.

"It's a good price for me to put you on the throne of Meereen and the entire Slaver's Bay," commented Aenar, popping another grape into his mouth. He smiled casually before continuing, "but it's still not enough for me to lose my prestige of invincibility."

The words spoken with such nonchalance made Hizdahr clench his teeth, even though he tried to keep his composure in the face of his fate spoken casually.

The truth was obvious: Aenar wasn't as enthusiastic about the proposal as Hizdahr himself. And for good reason. While Hizdahr would gain prestige, Aenar would lose his. What was more serious was the kind of message this would send out to the world: as strong as he was, Aenar was not invincible.

And that, honestly, was a very dangerous idea in Aenar's eyes. What if all Eight Free Cities joined forces against Aenar because of this weakness in the eyes of many? The only reason they were still hesitating was the terror caused by the Second Field of Fire, where Aenar had burned tens of thousands of people in just fifteen minutes.

Seeing that Aenar didn't seem interested, Hizdahr gritted his teeth and increased his offer.

"Ten thousand Unsullied, ten million gold coins and sixty warships."

Aenar, however, remained indifferent. He knew that Hizdahr could offer up to a hundred million gold coins, and yet the proposal would not convince him. The real price of this "theater" was far greater than any wealth.

The message of weakness that this would send out to the world would create long-term problems, problems that Aenar was not prepared to face now, let alone in the future.

It was wiser to destroy the Free Cities individually than to risk a powerful alliance between the Eight Free Cities, capable of mustering five hundred thousand soldiers, or even a million, depending on the circumstances. The gain offered by Hizdahr was simply not worth the effort or the potential strategic disaster.

Hizdahr gritted his teeth even harder before making another desperate attempt:

"We can change the theater to a resistance fight instead of a retreat."

Although the prestige of resisting against Aenar was less than that of defeating him, it was the only alternative Hizdahr could see. After all, he had no way of forcing Aenar to accept the proposal.

Aenar, on the other hand, liked this idea better. He could turn this "resistance" into an opportunity to train the developing Sardaukar, placing them side by side with the novice troops under the supervision of war veterans.

But would Aenar be satisfied with just that? Certainly not.

Popping another grape into his mouth, he made his own counter-proposal, smiling gently.

"I want Meereen to pay monthly tributes and temples of the Red Faith to be built in the three cities: Meereen, Yunkai and Astapor."

Hizdahr's face paled when he heard Aenar's demands. Theft. There was no other word to describe what the young king was proposing. Aenar was, in fact, legally stealing from Hizdahr.

But on reflection, Hizdahr saw an opportunity. With the presence of the Red Faith, he could incite a conflict between the religious fanatics and the Sons of the Harpy, weakening both sides and consolidating his control over Meereen. The idea began to seem less absurd in his mind.

Aenar, while eating another grape, noticed the hesitation in Hizdahr's countenance and couldn't help but smile. Hizdahr seemed to have overlooked something crucial: the current strength of the Red Faith. Of course, he couldn't be blamed for that. Who, after all, would have thought that this religion would transform so profoundly in less than six years?

As he watched Hizdahr's resistance slowly dissolve, Aenar was already anticipating what would come next. He would happily watch Hizdahr's reign being consumed by flames, flames that he himself would light.

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