Chapter 78 – Who Exactly Is the Mysterious One?
Daenerys had no intention of showing mercy to the Sons of the Harpy who slaughtered innocents.
She had just finished issuing orders when an Unsullied entered with Hizdahr.
The moment he stepped inside and saw Tyrion and Shireen, he froze. He already knew everyone else in the chamber, but these two unfamiliar faces caught him off guard.
Both were… unusual, to say the least. And judging from where they were seated, they were clearly participating in the queen's council. That unsettled him.
"Your Grace," Hizdahr said, standing at attention.
"Hizdahr, what do you know about the Sons of the Harpy?" Daenerys asked directly.
He hesitated before replying. "Your Grace… I know very little. Their organization is extremely secretive."
"Tell me what you do know." Her eyes locked onto his.
What he said next was nearly identical to Daario's earlier account.
After he finished, Daenerys asked calmly, "How long has your family ruled in Meereen?"
"O–over eleven hundred years," he stammered. He already sensed where this was heading.
"Eleven centuries, yet your knowledge of the Harpy is no greater than that of a sellsword from afar. Is there truly nothing more you wish to say?"
"Your Grace, I truly know nothing," he insisted, a plea flickering in his eyes.
She ignored the look.
"You know how much trouble they've caused me. Because of them, I had to execute a freedman who once aided me. And now even greater threats are closing in. Tell me—do you think I can defeat them?"
"As Mother of Dragons and Queen of Meereen, you will surely triumph," Hizdahr hurried to say.
"You're right. I will defeat them. And when I do, they will be wiped out. Those who help me will be richly rewarded. I don't intend to monopolize the fighting pits forever. The salt and wine trades will open to more Great Masters."
She leaned forward, gaze sharp.
"Or do you believe I won't remain in Meereen long enough—that the Harpy will drive me out?"
"Your Grace, I truly know nothing. Please… don't force me." The pressure finally broke him, and he dropped to his knees.
Daenerys' expression darkened.
"So you think I wouldn't kill you?"
"Your Grace, House Loraq has always served you—now and in the future!" He kowtowed, not daring to rise.
Of course, Daenerys had no intention of executing him. She still needed him to influence the other Great Masters. But his refusal to cooperate angered her all the same.
She understood perfectly: it wasn't ignorance. It was fear.
Another approach will be needed, she thought.
Hizdahr, still kneeling, heard no further words. After wiping the sweat from his brow, he cautiously looked up. Seeing her lost in thought, he didn't dare interrupt.
"You may go," she finally said.
He blinked, almost unable to believe it. After confirming he'd heard correctly, he hurried to bow.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
He backed out of the chamber in a near panic.
When the doors closed, Jorah spoke, frustration evident. "Your Grace, you're just letting him go? It's obvious he knows more than he's saying."
"Ser Jorah," Daenerys replied, eyes still on the door, "once the riots are under control, find another opportunity to question him."
Jorah's face brightened after hearing Daenerys' words. He nodded at once.
"Lord Tyrion, what is the situation in Westeros now?"
Daenerys had only been receiving Varys' reports about Slaver's Bay. Nothing about King's Landing or Westeros had reached her.
Though she had no immediate plans to cross the Narrow Sea, she still longed to know what was happening there.
Hearing her question, Tyrion suddenly realized he had no idea how much she already knew. He straightened in his seat and answered cautiously.
"Robb Stark, eldest son of Eddard Stark, and his mother escaped the Red Wedding… but they're now trapped, holding Riverrun."
He stopped there.
Because the moment he did, he noticed something shocking — Daenerys, Jorah, and the others all wore stunned expressions.
They clearly had no idea what he was talking about.
Tyrion was floored.
How could they not know this?
Seeing him fall silent, Daenerys asked urgently, "The Red Wedding? What is that?"
So they truly didn't know.
Tyrion couldn't believe it. Varys — master of whisperers — had failed to send such crucial news to Daenerys?
Then… did they also not know about Joffrey's death? About his own trial?
That awkward feeling from when he first entered the council chamber returned.
He had assumed Daenerys knew he was coming to serve her, just not the exact date of arrival — which explained the earlier awkward entrance.
But now it was obvious: she hadn't known at all.
Then why had she accepted him? A Lannister — from the family she had every reason to hate. Not only accepted him, but allowed him into council and adopted his advice without hesitation.
Tyrion's eyes drifted to Drogon perched on her shoulder.
Was it because Drogon brought me here?
Lost in that thought, he forgot to answer her question.
"Lord Tyrion?" Jorah prompted.
"Ah — yes. The Red Wedding refers to the wedding hosted by Lord Walder Frey at the Twins, for his daughter and Edmure Tully…" Tyrion began, pushing aside his doubts as he summarized the massacre.
When he finished, Barristan asked in disbelief, "In such a certain death trap, Robb and more than a dozen northern lords still escaped?"
That question stopped Tyrion cold.
Wasn't it the mysterious benefactor who had Varys send word to save the wolf mother and son? he thought. Why are they asking me instead?
And it wasn't just Barristan who looked confused — Daenerys and Jorah did too.
In fact, there was even a flicker of resentment and unwillingness in Daenerys' eyes.
Tyrion's heart skipped.
Did she… want the Starks dead?