When Viserys learned that Yunkai's bed slaves were famed for their mastery of sixteen exquisite erotic positions and the nine soul-shattering "arts of spring singing," he made sure to display a longing interest. Using Hizdahr zo Loraq's servant as a pretext, he announced his intention to leave Meereen and head for Yunkai.
The port of Meereen was already bustling with activity, masts and black sails filling the harbor. The guards stood like tall poplars, waiting for the order to set sail.
Hizdahr, accompanied by a group of nobles, arrived to bid Viserys farewell. He noted how much paler Viserys appeared compared to when he first arrived and said, "Your Grace, your presence has brought great honor to Meereen. The time we've spent with you has been far too short!"
In truth, had the entire Slaver's Bay not been uniting against Viserys, Hizdahr would have gladly made him a friend. He had spent tens of thousands of golden dragons entertaining the emperor, and with the women included, the total was well over 100,000. But Viserys hadn't simply eaten and drunk for free—he left behind songs that would last for generations, their value beyond measure.
Gripping Hizdahr's hand in farewell, Viserys spoke with surprising warmth. Hizdahr, startled by the gesture, felt his body tremble.
"Your hospitality has made me feel at home," Viserys said. "I will return once I've destroyed the usurper and reclaimed the Iron Throne. By then, my dragon will have fully grown, and we can ride it together."
'Your dragon will belong to Slaver's Bay sooner or later,' Hizdahr thought silently. But aloud, he said, "It will be an honor, Your Grace. Thanks to the Harpy, I hope I'll have the privilege of hosting you again."
Oznak, standing nearby, watched the exchange with a mixture of contempt and pity. Viserys's once sharp eyes had dulled, and the proud warrior's cheeks had lost their fullness. Dark circles rimmed his eyes—a far cry from the powerful figure who had amazed everyone in the arena.
Oznak recalled his uncle's stern advice during his martial training: "To become a true warrior, you must never indulge in women."
Viserys's first appearance in the arena had left an indelible impression. He had taken on ten opponents single-handedly and emerged victorious. Even Oznak's uncle had praised his skill. But now, seeing Viserys in such a weakened state, Oznak felt almost sorry for him. He was convinced that if given the chance to fight him now, he could easily avenge his previous humiliation.
After a round of formal and somewhat hollow farewells, Viserys finally turned to board the ship. Just as he was about to step inside, he stumbled on the rug beneath his feet, nearly falling.
Hizdahr's lips twitched with a hidden sneer, though he quickly said, "Your Grace, be careful!"
"I'm fine!" Viserys waved it off with a wry smile and continued aboard.
Once inside the ship, Viserys sighed and reallocated the attribute points he had deducted from his Health, silently adding them back.
The carefree young man had once again transformed into the valiant young emperor. Dany stood beside Viserys, watching him as he gazed out from the bow of the ship, lost in thought. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Brother, are you really planning to take all those women back with you?"
Her concern was understandable. Bringing more than twenty women into their fold was indeed questionable, if not entirely unjustifiable.
Viserys smiled, running a hand through Dany's hair, which shimmered like pearls in the sunlight. "In the future," he said, "my concubines, including those women, will be under your control. Who sees me and who doesn't will be entirely up to you."
Dany blushed slightly, pouting in embarrassment. "Oh, that's not what I meant..."
Their conversation was overheard by Shinelli, who had approached with two servants in tow, carrying a tray with two bowls of clear tea. Though she had little reason to do so herself, she personally delivered the drinks.
Viserys glanced at Shinelli. They had never formed an emotional bond. Whether during the formation of the Alliance of the Narrow Sea or now, their interactions had always been minimal. Feles had arranged her as a concubine to curry favor, and Viserys had agreed in order to secure Lys's loyalty. Seeing her carry two bowls instead of one, he felt a flicker of relief and decided he would make an effort to be kinder to her.
"You've worked hard," Viserys said, taking one of the bowls and downing the tea in a single gulp.
By afternoon, the fleet arrived at Yunkai, a city renowned for breeding erotic slaves. Meereen was not far behind them. Thanks to Hizdahr zo Loraq's advance notice, the Yunkai nobles were far better prepared than their Meereenese counterparts. They didn't panic, even when dragons circled overhead.
Like Meereen, Yunkai had pyramids of various sizes. But unlike Meereen's formidable defenses, Yunkai's were almost laughable—a rickety yellow brick wall riddled with cracks. The city's emblem, like Meereen's, featured a Harpy. The difference was that Yunkai's Harpy had a vicious scorpion's tail coiled behind her.
A massive statue of the Harpy loomed over the city gate, her talons and scorpion tail gleaming menacingly, as though they had been carefully polished to give an air of menace. It seemed as if she might leap down at any moment to strike at intruders.
But Viserys knew better. Yunkai's garrison was the smallest of the three Free Cities in Slaver's Bay, numbering a mere 5,000 men—most of them slave soldiers. It was hard to imagine how much of a threat they were.
Not all slave armies were Unsullied, after all.
Standing on the deck, Viserys gazed down at the gathering below. The nobles of Yunkai had sent a delegation to greet him, and two figures stood out immediately.
The first sat on a massive sedan chair so large it could easily be mistaken for a bed. The chair had three steps leading up to it, and behind it was a screen adorned with a relief of a Harpy. By Viserys's estimate, it took at least thirty slaves to carry it. Perched atop the chair was an ancient man, so shriveled he resembled a human-shaped pickled plum. His face and neck were blotched with age spots, giving him a weathered, almost decayed appearance.
The second figure was a rotund man, though not grotesquely so—just noticeably flabby. He wore a yellow silk robe and had a sickly pallor, suggesting he was unwell. What struck Viserys as odd, however, was the distance the other nobles seemed to keep from him, as if he exuded some offensive odor. Only his slaves remained close by.
The "human pickle" was Yurkhaz, the Supreme Commander of the Armies and Allies of Yunkai in the original timeline.
The sickly man, Viserys recalled, was Yurkhaz—the wealthiest man in Yunkai, known for his strange obsession with collecting deformed slaves. Standing beside him was one of his prized possessions: a purple-haired, purple-eyed "hermaphrodite slave" named Sweetheart.
"Ah—I see the dragons!" Yurkhaz's yellow-tinged eyes gleamed with excitement as he looked up at the creature circling overhead. His breath quickened at the sight.
About ten years ago, Yurkhaz had contracted a mysterious illness that left him unable to control his bodily functions. Since then, he sought any distraction that could make him forget his approaching death, rewarding anyone who could bring him even a moment's reprieve with lavish gifts.
'I would die happy if I could ride a dragon and soar through the sky,' Yurkhaz thought, watching Viserys descend from the ship. His mind raced with possibilities, but he wondered—what kind of reward could tempt a wealthy king like Viserys?