While Westeros burned with rumors and fear, Vlad was content to enjoy a cup of wine, seated on his improvised throne outside Yunkai, with eight thousand Unsullied, five thousand Free Men, and two horse-sized dragons laying siege to the city.
Before him, a delegation of mercenaries approached. Yunkai's ruling caste had met with him days earlier, offering him wealth and gold in exchange for lifting the siege, but Vlad had been clear: if they freed all the slaves, he would leave without shedding a drop of blood.
Of course, he had conveniently omitted the part where his progeny, already embedded within one of Yunkai's most influential factions, would seize control and implement new policies. That wasn't something his interlocutors needed to know.
Yunkai had warned him they would hire mercenaries, and they had. The city signed a contract with the Second Sons to reinforce their defenses, but Vlad hoped to reach a reasonable agreement with the sellsword company.
The three commanders of the Second Sons entered Vlad's tent with the confidence of seasoned warriors, but upon seeing the man waiting inside, their demeanor shifted to one of caution.
It wasn't just his stature or the muscles that betrayed a life of combat—it was the calm with which he watched them, as if he already knew the outcome of any confrontation before it began. Beside him, two dragons rested with half-lidded eyes, their tails lazily curled around plush cushions.
Missandei, standing with the poise of a trained diplomat, stepped forward and, in a clear voice, introduced Vlad with all his titles:
—Before you stands Vlad Drakul Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Great Khal of the East, the Red Stallion, Father of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Lord Impaler.
The commanders exchanged glances. They were men accustomed to the extravagance of noble titles, but few could boast such an extensive list.
—Before you, my Khal, are Mero, Prendahl na Ghezn, and Daario Naharis —Missandei added.
Vlad motioned for them to sit on the cushions laid out before him.
—Please, sit. Accept my hospitality. —He signaled, and a servant poured wine into silver cups. —But before you get too comfortable, allow me to warn you: in my court, every man is held accountable for his words, so choose them carefully.
The tallest and most arrogant of the three, Mero—nicknamed the Bastard of the Titan—was a man with a dark beard and a confident gaze. He smirked as he took his cup.
—So many titles... I must admit, it's impressive. —He leaned forward slightly. —I have one as well. They call me the Bastard of the Titan. Perhaps if I defeat you in combat, I'll become even more famous than you.
Vlad offered a calm smile.
—You're welcome to try. I promise none of mine will interfere.
The other two commanders exchanged uneasy glances. They knew that kind of arrogance could cost their leader his life.
Mero, however, seemed to take it as a joke. Without taking his eyes off Vlad, he raised his empty cup and turned to Missandei.
—Slave, bring me more wine.
The atmosphere in the tent shifted instantly. Vlad didn't lose his smile, but his tone turned icy.
—There are no slaves here. —He placed his cup on the table with a sharp clink. —And speak to my people with respect.
His tone left no room for argument. The mercenary glanced at Missandei and then looked away without pushing further.
Vlad resumed the conversation in a more relaxed tone.
—I'm sure the Second Sons value lucrative contracts as much as their lives, so today I offer you both. —He leaned forward slightly. —Break your contract with Yunkai, and you'll swim in gold.
Prendahl na Ghezn, the more cautious-looking man, frowned.
—If we break our contract, no one will ever hire us again.
Vlad rolled the cup between his fingers.
—Would you really need them to? —He raised an eyebrow. —If you join me, you'll have indefinite work, wealth, and battle. I've conquered three of the richest cities in Essos, and right now, my wife is conquering Meereen. In a few months, I'll be the wealthiest man on the continent. I assure you, you'll want for nothing.
Mero let out a dry, mocking laugh.
—Who leaves his conquests to his woman? —he asked with a sneer.
The mood in the tent grew tense once again. Vlad didn't respond immediately. He merely rested an elbow on the arm of his throne and stared at the mercenary with an unreadable expression.
—Watch your words. —His tone was soft, but it came across as a threat. —Insulting each other as men isn't a problem—we speak that way among ourselves—but if you speak of my wife in that tone again, you'll understand that the fate of the Great Master of Astapor wasn't my finest work.
Silence lingered uncomfortably. Everyone in Essos had heard the tale: the man who once ruled Astapor was still alive, impaled, serving as a reminder to any who dared challenge Vlad.
But Vlad didn't let the tension drag on. He shifted back to a friendlier tone with ease.
—I have nearly fifteen thousand soldiers, gentlemen.
For the first time, Daario Naharis—the third commander, who had remained silent until now—spoke with a skeptical tone.
—You have closer to twelve thousand.
Vlad smiled, as if the remark amused him. The man was young, but sensible—Vlad already liked him.
—True. But even so, the numbers aren't on your side.
Mero crossed his arms arrogantly.
—The Second Sons have faced worse and won.
Vlad tilted his head and smiled calmly.
—The Second Sons have faced worse and run.
The line landed like a subtle but precise blow.
—Believe me, gentlemen. I admire a company like yours. You are self-made men. So am I. —He placed a hand on his knee and looked at them seriously. —That's why I think it would be a terrible waste to kill you all. So, consider my offer.
With a slight gesture, he indicated the meeting was over. The commanders stood and left the tent, still murmuring among themselves.
Once alone, Vlad turned to Missandei, who remained standing with her usual serene expression.
—How are the men? —he asked with genuine interest.
Missandei looked at him for a moment, then offered a small smile.
—Every day is a new lesson, my lord. Their camp is orderly, and the men want to serve the Breaker of Chains, so there aren't many problems to resolve.
Vlad let out a short laugh and raised his cup.
—That's good. If we're lucky, this siege won't last much longer. Once we're done, we'll head to Meereen. Daenerys has probably already taken control of the city.
—I look forward to meeting her, my Khal —Missandei said.
Vlad smiled slightly.
—Something tells me you two will get along very well —he said with a laugh.