Chapter 97 – Offering Counsel
Jorah's relationship with his father, Jeor Mormont, had never been particularly close. After the conflict surrounding his wife, Lynesse, the rift had become permanent. Jorah had left his house behind, abandoning even the family's Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw.
Seeing the news of his father's death, he felt both shock and fury. Though Jeor was no longer young, his health had been excellent. As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he should have been safer than even the rangers who rode beyond the Wall. Jorah had never imagined that his father would die by the blades of his own sworn brothers.
The Others had been gone for a thousand years—had something happened at the Wall that he did not know about?
Otherwise, how could the Night's Watch—an order that dealt with little more than scattered wildlings—turn on their own Lord Commander?
Lost in these thoughts, Jorah reread the letter before walking over and returning it to Barristan. Barristan accepted it and placed a hand on Jorah's shoulder in silent consolation.
Daenerys also inclined her head toward Jorah, offering her condolences.
The message had, in truth, arrived earlier that afternoon. At the time, both Tyrion and Jorah had been occupied, and Daenerys had chosen not to disturb them with such grim news.
With the deaths of both men's fathers weighing heavily on the room, Daenerys naturally refrained from discussing the rest of Varys's intelligence. She dismissed the meeting and sent everyone away to rest.
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The next day, in the quiet council chamber atop the Great Pyramid, only Daenerys, Tyrion, and Drogon were present.
Both Daenerys and Tyrion were still fatigued from the Academy's preparations, but their minds were clear. Tyrion, too, had steadied himself after absorbing the news of Tywin's death.
"Tyrion," Daenerys said, "how do you believe I should govern Slaver's Bay? And when will I be ready to cross the Narrow Sea and take King's Landing?"
Drogon immediately sensed that Daenerys was testing Tyrion and perked up, fixing his gaze on the dwarf.
Tyrion had already given the matter deep thought since arriving in Meereen. He raised his wine cup, took a sip of red, and then spoke.
"The most urgent problem in Slaver's Bay is food," he said. "I've observed that vast tracts of land outside the three cities lie abandoned."
"The cities border the sea to the west and south, the Dothraki Sea to the north, and lie far from the Red Waste to the east. With the Skahazadhan and the Worm River flowing nearby, both climate and water supply are ideal for agriculture."
"Slaves without specialized skills can be sent to reclaim this land—especially those from Yunkai, who are the least prepared to survive on their own."
"This would solve the problem of food while also giving them meaningful work."
Though the three cities of Slaver's Bay were not large, their populations were immense. Daenerys's greatest concern had always been how to feed them all. She could not—and would not—do what the masters had done: sell slaves to buy food for slaves.
Tyrion's counsel struck directly at the heart of her dilemma.
Hearing Tyrion's ideas, Daenerys suddenly realized how little she herself had understood Slaver's Bay's geographical advantages. Its location was far better than she had imagined—and as a port region, the three cities possessed a natural advantage that few inland realms could match.
The conscription plan Tyrion had proposed earlier had not only given idle former slaves something meaningful to do, it had also brought her thirty thousand new soldiers. She had been delighted by that success—and now, Tyrion had surprised her again.
Perched on Daenerys's shoulder, Drogon nodded subtly in agreement.
Seeing the hundreds of thousands of newly freed slaves after the liberation of Slaver's Bay, even Drogon had worried for her.
Especially those two hundred thousand bed-slaves of Yunkai—once freed, the skills they had been forced to master were suddenly useless. Daenerys would never allow them to return to such work, which meant their survival posed a far greater challenge.
Encouraged by both Daenerys's and Drogon's approval, Tyrion continued.
"Meereen produces fine wines and refined salt, and it also has access to mineral resources. As a port city, transportation is convenient—we should expand production and export these goods."
"Though Slaver's Bay doesn't border Westeros like the Nine Free Cities, it lies close to the Summer Isles and the New and Old Ghiscari cities of Slaver's Bay. Beyond that lies Qarth, the greatest port in the known world. There will be no shortage of buyers."
"Meereen now has an academy, and within a thousand leagues it boasts the largest fighting pit. In time, it will draw nobles, merchants, and talented individuals from all over."
"This place will only grow more prosperous. Other industries can follow—though I admit economics is not my specialty. I can only offer general direction."
Tyrion was never especially gifted at making money. On the contrary, he was far better at spending it. As the once-flamboyant Imp of House Lannister, his generosity—or excess—was legendary across the brothels and taverns of King's Landing.
Daenerys found his proposals sound, but she also realized she lacked capable officials who truly understood commerce and wealth creation.
As she considered this, Tyrion offered a third suggestion.
"While publicizing Your Grace's achievements, we must also promote the law—send speakers to explain it, so both former masters and free citizens understand its importance."
"And we must continue winning over the former masters. That will further weaken the Sons of the Harpy."
There was one additional idea Tyrion did not dare voice.
He believed Daenerys's three dragons should each be stationed in one of the three cities, serving as an overwhelming deterrent against New Ghiscari, Old Ghiscari, and Harpy conspiracies.
But the dragons were Daenerys's children in all but name.
Even when Drogon had suggested letting Rhaegal and Viserion assist in city defense, she had hesitated, fearful they might be harmed before fully grown.
After Drogon's injury the previous day, she had nearly wept.
If Tyrion dared suggest this—and one of the dragons were injured or killed—he doubted he'd be welcome in Meereen afterward.
Listening to Tyrion's third point, Daenerys felt uneasy as well. Though Drogon's show of force and the brutal crackdown had silenced the Sons of the Harpy for several days, she did not believe they were truly finished.
After laying out his three proposals, Tyrion took another sip of wine, paused, and then continued.
"It is not yet time to cross the Narrow Sea."
"Slaver's Bay is still unstable. The thirty thousand new soldiers are not yet fully trained."
"And even when those issues are resolved… attacking King's Landing immediately would still be a mistake."
At the mention of Westeros, Daenerys's attention sharpened.
She had dreamed countless times of conquering Westeros, of sitting upon the Iron Throne. It was her greatest desire—perhaps even an obsession.
She had believed that once Slaver's Bay was secure and her army trained, she could sail west and reclaim her birthright.
Tyrion's words unsettled her.
She fixed her gaze on him, waiting.
"Though you are the daughter of King Aerys and a true Targaryen," Tyrion said calmly,
"your forces are almost entirely foreign. Westeros has its pride. Its people will not easily accept defeat at the hands of outsiders."