“I left no army or means of livelihood,” Daenerys admitted frankly. “But shouldn’t these problems be solved by the council and the local freed people themselves?”

“You broke the shackles of slavery and overturned the production and operating system of the slave city-states that had lasted for thousands of years. And now you expect to promote a few people at random and hope they can solve everything on their own? If things were really that simple, then why do you think tens of thousands of slaves—free people—who couldn’t find stability in Astapor and Yunkai followed you all the way to Meereen?” Petyr chuckled. “I suppose you think it’s because of love?”

Isn’t it? Daenerys opened her mouth, and nearly said the word aloud.

“I was once a nobody, so I understand how the lower classes think. Let me tell you this—so long as they can survive, people will never leave their homes en masse and follow someone, no matter how noble or beautiful, into strange and dangerous lands. The free people who followed you were all clever. They saw that they could never have a stable life if they stayed. Once you left, Astapor and Yunkai would descend into chaos, and slavery would return immediately. That’s why they insisted on crossing the wasteland and following you and your army at all costs.”

“That’s just your judgment. From what I know, Astapor and Yunkai are still doing fine. Besides, what does any of this have to do with Meereen?”

“The three slave cities are like sisters. How could things be fine? You ordered the crucifixion of 163 Great Masters, and that nearly brought Meereen to the brink of ruin!” Petyr looked at Daenerys and said in a deep voice, “Allow me to ask you, Your Grace—do you truly believe that the decision to crucify those 163 slave children on your way to Meereen was unanimously agreed upon by all the masters after some meeting?”

Daenerys shifted her gaze and stared at Petyr for a moment. Suddenly, she realized she had never considered that question. In her mind, a slave owner was a slave owner—what difference was there among them?

“That one example should make Your Grace understand what a grave mistake your earlier, hasty decision was. You must have heard of Lord Tywin of House Lannister. After he annihilated the two rebellious vassal houses—Reyne and Tarbeck—he became the lord with the strongest grip on his domain in all Westeros. At the time, many families in the Westerlands showed disrespect to their liege lord. Why did Tywin only destroy those two, rather than punish them all? Because he wanted to make an example of them. What he wanted was fear, not hatred.” Petyr stared at Daenerys without flinching. He had wanted to say that the Mad King never understood the difference between fear and hatred, and that was why he lost the Iron Throne, died, and had his family destroyed, leading her into exile. But at the last moment, he thought better of it and instead replaced the cautionary tale with Tywin, an example of success.

“You want to kill, to avenge those 163 children, that’s fine but you should create fear, not hatred. Imagine if Tywin hadn’t destroyed those two houses but instead had every disrespectful family’s head chopped off one by one. Would people still sing ‘The Rains of Castamere’ and fear him across Westeros? No, he’d have been overthrown by a coalition of angry vassals in a matter of days and dragged out of Casterly Rock to be hanged.”

“I understand. Not all of Meereen’s slave owners agreed to crucify those 163 children. It was a few powerful families or perhaps just a few individuals.” Daenerys frowned. “But I doubt anyone would step forward to admit it.”

“You don’t need anyone to admit it. You only need to investigate which Great Master in Meereen owned the most slaves and lived in the tallest pyramid. The answer will reveal itself.” Petyr shook his head. “That’s the easy part. What puzzles me more, Your Grace, is that even after calming down and thinking it over, you still only want to find out which master gave the order to crucify those children? Are you here for revenge—or for liberation?”

“Is there a contradiction between liberation and revenge?”

“There doesn’t have to be,” Petyr replied. “If I were in your place, I would have at least three strategies to ensure control over Meereen after taking it. Based on effectiveness, they fall into three categories: inferior, moderate, and superior. Your Grace may suspect me of deceit—I understand. So, from now on, I will only speak of the strategies. Whether they’re feasible or not, that’s for you to decide.”

Faced with the daughter of the Mad King, Petyr dared not play tricks by withholding information. He took a breath and began to offer his counsel. “The worst plan is the one I mentioned publicly before—kill all the slave owners in Meereen, take full control of the city, and rebuild a governing system from scratch. Just as you did in Astapor.”

“But this plan comes with three serious issues. First, Your Grace does not have enough capable people around you to assist in managing the city. The Unsullied and the sellswords can fight for you, but they can’t offer governance or produce food. Among the freed people, there may be doctors, scholars, craftsmen, scribes, or teachers, but they were all servants—not a ruling class. The only capable person you have is Ser Jorah Mormont, and unfortunately, he turned out to be a spy for King Robert. If all the Great Masters, the existing ruling class are slaughtered, the city will descend into chaos immediately.” Petyr slowed his speech before continuing. “Second, this city-state was built on the slave trade. Now that all the ‘goods’ have become free men, how will you feed them? You can order everyone to farm, but what will they eat before the first harvest? And if enemies strike before the crops are in, does Your Grace have a plan to respond? The third issue—can the newly freed people truly govern themselves? Though the old Great Masters were detestable, they had thousands of years of experience and understood the principle of ‘moderation.’ Freedmen who suddenly gain wealth and power, with no knowledge or discipline, will likely act worse than their former masters. Whether we like it or not, there will always be those who must serve and be oppressed so others may eat. It is always the nobles and slave owners, well-fed and well-dressed, who develop ideas, culture, and civilization.”

“Enough. Stop talking.” Daenerys frowned in disgust. Petyr may have spoken some truth, but she couldn’t stand the way he said it. “I won’t adopt your worst plan. Tell me the other two.”

“Very well,” Petyr said immediately. “The middle strategy is to kill no one. You rule the city alongside the Great Masters and become the Queen of Meereen, effectively its largest slave owner.”

“That’s impossible. I came here to liberate, not to become one of them.”

“Indeed. Even if you chose this plan, you’d face serious issues.” Petyr nodded. “As an outsider, you have no roots here. Before your dragons grow to full strength, your real power comes from the Unsullied and the freed people. If you become a large slave owner yourself, you’ll lose their support and be overthrown easily. Once you’re driven out, Meereen will swiftly return to its former ways, as if you had never come. So we arrive at the final and best strategy.”

…

“You’ve mentioned two options that I could never accept, and called them the middle and worst. I assume that’s just to make your third plan seem better.” Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “Don’t explain. Just summarize it.”

“As you command, Your Grace.” Petyr wasn’t sure whether the Targaryen girl was mad, but she wasn’t stupid. That much was a relief. “Expel the most powerful Great Masters and allow the oppressed middle-tier nobles to rise in their place. In short, the tigers and wolves once lived as one pack. Now the lion has come, and it allies with the wolves to drive out the tigers. You, Your Grace, are the lion. Once the tigers are driven off, use the wolves to manage the city and its freed population.”

“Expel them? And what about the vengeance owed for those 163 children? Who shall I vent my wrath upon?”

“You can kill some of the leading masters—one or two, ten or twenty—as you see fit.” Petyr shrugged. “But you must not kill them all. You need checks and balances. You must ensure the new ‘elites’ you promote, and your own people, never betray you. How? It’s simple—make them feel they need you. Drive out the lion, but let it live. That way, the newly promoted wolves will fear the return of the old masters with foreign help, and the sheep—your people—will cling to you, afraid of being devoured. You simply need to remain above it all, control how and when the wolves feed, appease both sides, accept their loyalty and worship, and respond to their needs. You won’t need to worry about food, law, or security—the wolves will handle it for you. It’s their home, after all. They know it well.”

What he said made sense, but why did his tone sound so distasteful? Could this be what they called, “harsh but honest counsel”? Daenerys remained silent, but Daario, who stood beside her, snorted coldly. “Her Grace is a true dragon, not a tiger, and her people love her dearly. They would never betray her!”

“Hah, I want to believe that, truly. But regardless of whether it’s true, it’s a foolish thing to say.” Petyr laughed. “If there’s one lesson every ruler must remember, it’s this: human nature is wicked. Your Grace’s freedmen call you ‘Mhysa,’ ‘Mother,’ and ‘Dragon Queen.’ They kneel before you and praise your kindness, claiming they’d die for you. You may enjoy their adoration, but don’t be drunk on it. When famine comes, or enemies threaten, all the love turns to grumbling, complaint, betrayal and worse. They may spit on you, slander you, even raise a knife to your back. To rule, it’s better to be loved than feared but being loved is expensive, with poor returns. Never count on it. Always assume your people are bad. Your new nobles are bad. The guards beside you are bad. Even I, speaking with you now, am bad.” Petyr had once won Eddard Stark’s trust with such words, but lost it soon after with a single note. Would the young queen fall for it this time? He smirked. “Always assume others act out of malice, and prepare accordingly. That’s how you ensure a long, stable reign.”

“Tch…” The handsome sellsword behind Daenerys could take no more. “What nonsense! The Queen has thousands who would give their lives for her. Only scheming villains assume the worst of everyone.”

“When I say ‘all are bad,’ it’s to remind Her Grace to be cautious, not to take it as a truth.” Petyr glanced at the mercenary, then back to Daenerys, his tone slightly reproachful. “You can kill everyone. Or kill no one. Or kill selectively. In Astapor, you used the worst plan. In Yunkai, the middle one. I hoped you would be wiser in Meereen. But now, you’re about to choose a plan even I never considered… To call it stupid wouldn’t be an exaggeration.”

Calling the Queen stupid? The mercenary bristled. “Watch your tongue, you little rat! Do you want a taste of my scimitar?”

A mere sellsword dared interrupt a conversation between the Queen and her adviser like that? Petyr looked up at him again, wondering if he might be Daenerys’s lover. But it didn’t matter. If she preferred a man who waved blades over one who spoke reason, then she was unfit to return to Westeros. She wouldn’t be worth following. He could walk away from this room and start plotting his escape.

Daenerys’s expression grew solemn. She straightened on the couch, lowered her leg, and bowed her head in thought. Human nature is wicked. Assume the worst of all those around you… Such bitter words. But after all she’d endured, all the betrayals—maybe Petyr was right. Perhaps this slippery man from Westeros was exactly the kind of follower she needed.

She took a deep breath and raised her head. “Daario, bring Ser Petyr a chair. Missandei, fetch him a drink. I have many questions, and this conversation… may take some time.”

…

Petyr let out a silent sigh of relief.

The Targaryen girl wasn’t mad—she had listened.

That should be good news. But why did his heart ache? That’s right… He had learned the art of rule through books, politics, and bitter experience. He had always dreamed of displaying his talent once he sat upon the Iron Throne. Who would have thought that fate would drag him thousands of miles to Slaver’s Bay, forcing him to pour all his skill into playing the role of a “loyal servant helping an exiled princess reclaim her birthright”? How pitiful.

And even if he succeeded in helping Daenerys win the Iron Throne, he would merely return to the starting line. The thought alone was enough to exhaust him.

(To be continued.)

***

For every 200 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on P/treon to read 30+ advanced chapters: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves

(Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep