Upon hearing Eddard Karstark's willingness to remain in the city, Ser Barristan Selmy's haggard, sun-creased face relaxed, if only by a fraction.
Before the old knight could speak, a man wearing a bronze Lion mask, a high-ranking officer of the Brazen Beasts, stepped forward. His squad of fully armed soldiers stood like silent, predatory statues behind him. "Ser Barristan, the situation has worsened. That wretch Yurkhaz zo Yunzak was scared out of his wits by the dragon. In the panic to flee the pit, he tripped and was trampled into a red mush by his own guests."
"Yurkhaz?" Barristan's voice turned cold. "He was the supreme commander of the Yunkai'i host. With him dead, the Wise Masters outside the walls will seek a blood price. The hostages... Skahaz mo Kandaq's life is in the balance."
"Hizdahr?" The Lion mask turned a contemptuous gaze toward the new King, who was currently surrounded by a fluttering swarm of fawning Ghiscari nobles in the distance. "That useless waste? He does nothing but kneel to lick the feet of the Masters. He won't save the Shavepue. He likely ordered the poison that took Belwas."
The officer stepped closer, his voice an urgent hiss. "Ser, the Brazen Beasts are loyal to the Queen, not the Harpy's consort. We need the Unsullied. We need to strike the Yunkish camps before they can flay our leader."
"Force is a last resort," Barristan cautioned, though the exhaustion in his voice was palpable. He had served four kings, yet he had never been the Hand. Now, with Daenerys vanished into the clouds, the weight of a collapsing city was being pressed into his palms.
He looked back at Eddard Karstark. The young man stood impassively, his black-and-gold cloak a stark contrast to the colorful silks of the East. Barristan realized then that Eddard was a master of the "Game." With a single clinical observation about the poisoned locusts, Eddard had effectively decapitated Hizdahr's authority and forced Barristan into the center of the political storm.
"Lord Eddard," Barristan said, pulling himself together. "You are a guest of the Queen. You must be weary from the sea and the heat. Please, follow Admiral Groleo to the Great Pyramid. I will have the servants prepare the royal guest chambers."
Barristan quickly issued a flurry of orders: Missandei was to escort the retching Strong Belwas to the Temple of the Graces; Grey Worm was to put the Unsullied on high alert; and Jorah Mormont - the "Great Bear", was to personally oversee the city gates.
Eddard followed Groleo away from the smoldering ruins of the arena.
The Great Pyramid loomed over the city like a mountain of bronze and brick. It stood eight hundred feet high, a thirty-three-level labyrinth that dwarfed every other structure in Slaver's Bay.
"The Queen lives at the apex," Groleo explained, his voice echoing in the vast stone entryway. "The second floor is the Audience Chamber. Most of the high officials reside between the third and fifth levels. Given your status, My Lord, you will stay on the third floor, near the quarters of Prince Quentyn of Dorne."
"Quentyn Martell?" Eddard asked, his interest piqued. He remembered the boy from the original timeline, the "Sun's Son" who had come to claim a bride and found only fire.
"Yes," Groleo sighed. "He came for a marriage alliance, but the Queen chose Hizdahr for the sake of peace."
Eddard curled his lip behind his mask. Peace? He looked at the soot-stained walls. Daenerys's rule was a masterclass in naivety. She had broken the chains of a thousand years and expected the masters to simply thank her for the lesson. In a place like this, only blood and fire commanded respect. Marrying a slave-trader wasn't a compromise; it was a surrender.
As they ascended the wide, steep stairs of the pyramid, a short, bald man in a maroon silk tokar blocked their path. The gold tassels on his robe trailed behind him, held by two perspiring servants.
"Groleo, who are these barbarians?" the man demanded, his voice a shrill, arrogant pipe.
"Seneschal Reznak," Groleo said with a nervous bow. "These are Her Majesty's guests. This is Lord Eddard Karstark of-"
"Which Majesty?" Reznak interrupted, his eyes narrowing with a localized, petty malice. "There is only one Majesty left in Meereen: His Grace Hizdahr zo Loraq XIV, the Blood of the Harpy. This... butcher from the West... is not welcome here. I've heard of his work in the bay. He murdered my nephew's crew!"
Eddard stepped forward, the silver plate of his armor clanking. The murderous glint in his grey-blue eyes made Reznak stumble back, almost tripping over his own long, cumbersome train.
"Meereen does not welcome you!" Reznak shrieked, his face turning a mottled purple. "Leave this pyramid at once, or I shall call the guards to throw you into the Skahazadhan!"
Screech!
A brown blur erupted from the shadows of a stone pillar. The alpha monkey Eddard had "befriended" on Cedar Island had followed his master into the city. It didn't lunge for Reznak's throat; it lunged for the servants.
Terrified, the servants let go of the maroon silk tokar to protect their faces. Reznak, mid-rant, stepped on his own golden tassels. His balance evaporated. He flailed like a beetle on its back before tumbling backward down the steep, polished stairs.
Eddard watched with a serene, terrifying smile as the Seneschal of Meereen rolled twenty feet down to the next landing, his silk robe wrapping around him like a cocoon.
"A clumsy man," Eddard remarked to Groleo. "I hope the floor didn't sustain too much damage."
Groleo, wide-eyed and shivering, hurried to lead Eddard to his suite. The rooms were opulent, Qarth carpets, carved cedar furniture, and a balcony overlooking the city.
"Lord Eddard," Groleo said, lingering by the door. His voice had lost its professional veneer, replaced by a raw, desperate longing. "I am an Admiral with no ships. The Queen burned my fleet to build siege engines. I have a wife and grandchildren in Pentos who haven't heard my voice in years. I want to go home."
He looked at Eddard with a pleading intensity. "Save a spot for me on the Sunray. I'll sleep on the deck. I'll scrub the bilge. Just get me out of this swamp of bones."
Eddard studied the man. He saw a loyal tool looking for a master who wouldn't break him. "I'll get you home, Groleo. But in exchange, you will be my eyes inside this pyramid."
"Anything," Groleo whispered, a tear escaping his eye.
"Then start now," Eddard said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know Viserion and Rhaegal are kept in the pits below. I want to see them. Arrange the guards. I'm going down tonight."
[System Notification: Political Interaction: Reznak mo Reznak neutralized (Temporary).]
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