Before Dany could reach the relief station, a slave owner was already there, trying to reclaim his property with the help of a few burly thugs. The target of his ire was a 16-year-old maiden named Bea, who had been assisting Dany at the station for some time. The other slaves around them looked on in terror, as if watching a wolf tear apart a lamb in their midst.
The slaves' clothes were drab, mostly earthy yellows and linen hues, worn and dull despite being clean. They stood in stark contrast to the slave owner, who sat on his horse, dressed in bright, flamboyant garments and a garish hat, like a bloom of color among withered leaves.
An elderly slave, his hair gray with age, couldn't stand it any longer and stepped forward to intervene. But the thugs were brutal, and they beat him bloody with their clubs without hesitation. The slave owner, dressed in a red robe, pointed at the slaves gathered at the relief station and shouted, "You thieves! Now that you're healthy, you should be back to work, not lounging around here!"
Seeing that he had cowed the hundreds of slaves with his display of power, the slave master grew even more arrogant. His eyes fell on a handsome young slave in the crowd, a boy of 16 or 17 years. Grinning, he revealed yellowed teeth as he said, "Virgil, it's been a while since I've seen you in the Garden of Love. Don't worry, your master will come for you soon!"
Virgil's blood ran cold at the mention of the Garden of Love. His already pale face turned ashen. The place where Dany had found him was infamous; he had been nearly dead from an overdose of some drug when she saved him. Dany had been preparing to bury him when he miraculously revived.
"No! Master Koxhmar, please, I've already died once for my master. Please, no!" Virgil pleaded, his voice trembling with fear.
But the slave owner, Koxhmar, showed no compassion. "Hmph! Unless you're truly dead, you'll have to work!" he sneered, then ordered his thugs, "Tie him up too. I'll enjoy him tonight."
Three burly men advanced on Virgil, who was so terrified he could barely stand. The other slaves watched helplessly, knowing that if they tried to intervene, they would be the next to be taken.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air...
Koxhmar's horse reared up and threw him to the ground with a heavy thud.
"Assassin!" Koxhmar's thugs quickly retreated, forming a defensive circle around their fallen master, scanning the area for any sign of danger.
"Young Mother! Young Mother is here! It's the Young Mother!" The slaves cried out as they spotted Dany, riding toward them on a white horse, a crossbow in her hand. She had fired the shot that spooked Koxhmar's horse, and now, with a cold, unwavering gaze, she reloaded her weapon and aimed it at him.
With the sight of Dany standing up for them, hundreds of slaves flocked around her like frightened ducklings seeking the safety of their mother. Bea, the slave girl who had been seized, took the opportunity to escape and rushed to Dany's side.
"How dare you kill my horse!" Koxhmar spat angrily, ready to hurl insults, but then he noticed the group of mercenaries standing behind Dany. Realizing the strength she had at her command, he quickly reassessed his next move, swallowing his rage as he reconsidered his options.
"What are you doing?" Dany demanded.
Koxhmar looked at her with a sneer. "Lady Daenerys, I'm here to reclaim my slave. What are you doing? Robbery?" He scoffed.
'If you can't use force, then you'll have to reason with me. Fortunately, I'm a reasonable man, and there's nothing wrong with me coming to claim what's mine.'
"Bea was found by me—and she was abandoned by you. When did she become your slave?"
Koxhmar's smile turned sly as he added, "Lady Daenerys, that's not true. She ran away on her own—how could I have abandoned her? Do you have any proof to back up your claim?"
His expression shifted to one of cruelty as he barked, "Bea! Come back with me, or I'll beat you to death!"
The frail girl trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't dare refuse, but her gaze turned to Dany, pleading silently for help.
Just as Dany was about to respond, she noticed a group of people approaching from a distance. They were slave owners, all coming to reclaim their slaves. The sight drained the color from many of the slaves' faces, leaving them in despair.
If it had been just one or two slave owners, Dany might have managed, but this was too many, and some belonged to powerful families. The situation was quickly becoming untenable.
"Young Mother, let us go. We are lucky enough as it is, and we will never forget your kindness," an elderly slave said, kneeling before Dany's horse.
Seeing this, the other slaves understood they could no longer stay at the relief station without causing more trouble for Dany. They began to kneel around her, their hopes shattered.
Dany frowned, feeling the weight of their desperation. Jorah, standing behind her, was equally powerless to resolve the situation. Koxhmar's smug, offensive expression only fueled the fire in her purple eyes.
'Brother, what would you do if you were here?' Dany wondered.
Forcing the slaves to stay would provoke the wrath of the other slave owners, who might rather kill the slaves than let them serve as symbols of defiance. But letting them leave would undermine the relief station's role as a sanctuary, stripping it of its value and significance.
Of course, Dany could try to negotiate, offering the slave owners money as "treatment costs." But in that case, the slaves would be grateful to their masters, not to her, which wouldn't achieve the effect Viserys wanted.
Unless... she made the slaves buy their own freedom.
Having pieced together a solution, Dany spoke up. "These slaves are indeed yours, and we have no right to keep them."
Koxhmar smiled smugly, confident that he had won. Perhaps the reputation of the Windblown or "Viserys the Pirate Slayer" was enough to intimidate him, but Dany herself didn't seem to pose much of a threat.
The slaves around Dany felt a sinking despair at her words, but they also knew there was little to be unhappy about—at least they would save their lives. The only regret was that they hadn't been able to repay the kindness of their "Young Mother."
But then Dany continued, "Since these are your slaves, they are your property, and I have saved you from a loss. Are you really going to take them away without offering anything in return?"
Koxhmar's smile faltered. He realized she was asking for compensation. But how much? If it was too much, it might not be worth it. After all, slaves were consumable, replaceable assets. Who would spend a fortune to treat them?
"In that case, Lady Daenerys, name your price," Koxhmar said, his tone becoming cautious. He had already decided that if Dany's demands were unreasonable, he would take her to court.
"I saved their lives, so I think it's only fair that they work for me for a while, don't you?" Dany suggested.
Jorah couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for Dany's quick thinking.
But how long could they keep this up?
The slave owners, on the other hand, were pleased with this arrangement. They could simply throw the near-dead slaves into the pit and, after some time, they would return to reclaim them. To them, this sounded like an excellent deal.
"Deal. I'll come back in six months to collect them," Koxhmar said, smirking.
"Six months? Are you mad? Three years!" Dany countered firmly.
"Three years?" The slave owners exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. The idea seemed excessive. Most slaves had a "service life" of three to five years, ten at the most. Three years was longer than they were willing to wait.
Dany had deliberately suggested three years to buy time. She had no intention of giving them any real ground.
"This is too long. Lady Daenerys, could we have more time to consider?" Koxhmar asked, his earlier confidence waning.
But Dany had no patience for further discussion. With a flash of anger, she declared, "The matter is settled for now. This is the territory of the Windblown. Do you think you do as you please?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough authority to make the slave owners uneasy. They suddenly remembered that the Windblown had stationed 300 soldiers in Tyrosh—a force not to be trifled with.
"Ser Jorah!" Dany commanded.
"Yes, my lady!" Jorah replied immediately.
"Hang this Koxhmar up!" she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Koxhmar had overstepped by attempting to seize slaves without so much as a word. Showing any weakness now would only invite further disrespect. Jorah had no objections; he understood that a show of strength was necessary.
"No! What are you doing, you girl—" Koxhmar's words were cut short as Jorah's iron-gloved fist smashed into his face, the impact like a bear's paw. Blood and teeth flew as Koxhmar crumpled.
The other slave owners watched in stunned silence as Koxhmar was hoisted up the Windblown flagpole, a grim warning. When Dany turned her gaze on them, they quickly slunk away, not daring to challenge her further.
The slaves at the relief station erupted in cheers as they watched their would-be oppressors flee. They joined hands, dancing around Dany as she sat atop her horse, singing praises to their "Young Mother."
After ensuring the relief station was secure, Dany hurried to Viserys's location. It had been the longest they'd been apart, and she missed him dearly.