The fall of Qarth rippled across Essos like a sudden storm, the Queen of Cities brought low by a revolt no one had seen coming. Yet, even as the ancient city crumbled under the weight of its own internal strife, the world's greatest merchants, noble houses, and city-states found themselves in a rare state of paralysis. They were cut off from Qarth. The usual flows of silk, spices, and gems that traveled along the overland routes stopped. Caravans disappeared. Ships never returned to port. The situation was dire for the Free Cities, each dependent on the trade routes to sustain their wealth and power.
---
In Lys, Myr, and Volantis, the response was cautious but growing frantic. Wealthy merchants who relied on Qarth for exotic goods found themselves suddenly staring at empty warehouses and declining profits. Guild leaders scrambled to maintain a semblance of control over their panicking ranks, but the whispers of war—slave raids from Slaver's Bay, pirates from the Stepstones, and revolts within Qarth itself—had already set in.
In Lys, the Council of Magisters convened an emergency meeting in the grand hall of the Palazzo Dorato, its gold-engraved walls seeming to mock the grim reality they were facing.
"I've heard nothing from our traders in Qarth in weeks!" one magister fumed, slamming his fist on the polished marble table. "This cannot be ignored any longer."
"The Guild of Spicers is losing money by the day," another added, her voice trembling. "We need to send ships! Find out what's happening!"
A thin, older man, the most seasoned magister, leaned forward, his long fingers intertwined. "We don't know enough to act rashly. The reports are fragmented. Slavers, pirates, revolts... And what of Eden? Some say they are the ones responsible."
"Eden?" the first magister spat. "That fairy tale of a city? Don't tell me we are going to pin the fall of Qarth on fantasies."
"It's no fantasy," the older man replied darkly. "Eden is real. And growing. Our merchants have already had dealings with them, and they speak of its wealth... and its power."
The table fell into silence. The mere mention of Eden sent a chill through the room. They had heard the rumors—of a city rising from the Red Waste, a place where magic was said to flow through the streets, where runaway slaves were free, and where trade was flourishing beyond imagination. Now, the fall of Qarth seemed to point directly to Eden's shadow.
"Then what do we do?" the youngest magister asked, her voice shaking.
"We wait," the elder replied. "We wait and watch. We must see if Eden moves again."
---
Far to the north, Braavos—the greatest and freest of the Free Cities—watched the fall of Qarth with a mixture of concern and grim satisfaction. In the Council of the Iron Bank, the ruling keyholders gathered to discuss the chaos spreading through the southern lands.
"We've confirmed it," announced the head of the Iron Bank, a sharp-eyed woman with a quiet, commanding presence. "Qarth has fallen. The lower castes have risen up in revolt. The city is tearing itself apart."
The other keyholders leaned forward, intrigued. Braavos had always viewed itself as different from the other Free Cities—unlike the rest, it had been founded by runaway slaves fleeing the Valyrian Freehold. And while the other Free Cities clung to old hierarchies, Braavos had long prided itself on its independence and freedom. Now, it seemed that another city was rising in the same spirit—Eden.
"Are we certain Eden is involved?" asked one of the younger keyholders, his voice cautious but eager.
"Certain enough," the head of the Iron Bank replied, her voice calm. "Our agents have gathered evidence that Eden played a role in Qarth's collapse. The Queen of Cities was already unstable, but Eden may have given the final push."
Another keyholder, an older man with a weathered face, frowned deeply. "Qarth is... or was, a key trade partner. If it falls entirely, we stand to lose a great deal."
The head of the Iron Bank nodded. "Indeed. That's why we must act. The slavers from Slaver's Bay are already raiding the coast, and pirates from the Stepstones are circling like vultures. If we do not intervene, Qarth's wealth will be lost to them, and our trade routes will be at risk."
The younger keyholder smirked. "So, we send the fleet?"
"We send the fleet," the head of the Iron Bank confirmed. "And we stabilize the region. But we must also acknowledge the new player in the game."
"Eden," murmured the older keyholder, his eyes narrowing. "A city free from slavery... like us."
There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Braavos had always prided itself on being different from the other Free Cities—founded by runaway slaves, it had built itself into a powerful, independent city-state. Now, another city was rising with the same ideals.
"We should reach out to them," the younger keyholder said eagerly. "If Eden is as powerful as they say, an alliance would be beneficial. We share common values."
The head of the Iron Bank smiled faintly. "We will send an envoy. If Eden is willing, we can forge a partnership. But first, we must secure Qarth."
---
In King's Landing, the news of Qarth's fall had only just reached the Red Keep, carried by Varys' little birds. The Master of Whisperers had been watching the situation in Essos with growing concern, and now he had brought the matter to the small council.
Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, sat at the head of the table, half-drunk and more interested in the next hunt than the political turmoil across the Narrow Sea. The rest of the small council, however, was locked in their usual argument.
"We cannot afford to ignore this!" Lord Stannis Baratheon, Robert's stern and unyielding brother, slammed his fist on the table. "The Targaryens must be found and dealt with!"
"They're children, Stannis," Renly Baratheon, the king's younger and more easygoing brother, retorted, lounging in his chair. "Hardly a threat."
Varys, ever the spider, remained silent as the Baratheon brothers bickered, his eyes glinting with calculated interest. Finally, when there was a pause, he spoke softly.
"Your Grace, there is another matter that requires your attention."
Robert, who had been swirling wine in his goblet, grunted. "What is it now?"
"The fall of Qarth," Varys replied smoothly. "The city has been torn apart by a revolt. The lower castes have risen against the ruling elite, and the city is in chaos."
Robert frowned, but his interest seemed only mildly piqued. "Qarth? The city of merchants? Why should I care?"
"There is more, Your Grace," Varys continued, his voice a silken thread of intrigue. "The city of Eden. You may have heard the whispers... A magical city, hidden in the Red Waste, where runaway slaves find refuge. My little birds tell me that Eden may have played a role in Qarth's downfall."
The small council grew quiet at the mention of Eden. They had all heard the rumors—of a city that seemed too fantastical to be real, a place of impossible wealth and power. But if it was real, and if it had brought down a city as powerful as Qarth...
Stannis' eyes narrowed. "We cannot ignore this."
Renly, ever the skeptic, shrugged. "What does it matter to us? Eden is across the Narrow Sea. Let them play their games in Essos."
Varys, always the strategist, bowed his head slightly. "Perhaps, Your Grace. But it is always wise to keep an eye on rising powers. Especially those that can topple cities."
The small council resumed its bickering, dismissive of Varys' warning. To them, the fall of Qarth and the rise of Eden were distant concerns, hardly worthy of their attention. But Varys, as always, kept his secrets close. Eden was not just a city—it was a force. And forces like that had a way of reshaping the world.
---
As the council chambers of the Free Cities and King's Landing buzzed with debate, Qarth burned. The once-great city was now a hellscape of rioting lower castes, merciless pirate raids, and the brutal reprisals of slavers desperate to regain control. The once gleaming white walls of the city were now stained with blood and ash, its grand palaces and temples turned to rubble.
In the streets, the poor and downtrodden exacted their revenge on the wealthy. Fires raged through the markets, looting was rampant, and the screams of the dying echoed through the once-prosperous city. The Pureborn, Qarth's ancient and arrogant elite, were dragged from their mansions and publicly executed in the plazas where they had once ruled with impunity.
The chaos was absolute. But hidden in the shadows, Mark's agents watched with satisfaction. Operation Pandemonium had been a resounding success, and Qarth was tearing itself apart from within