Green-headed and red-headed flies desperately crawled into the cracks between the stones.
The reason was simple: blood still lingered there, not yet fully dried.
Dark-red stains seeped into the gaps of the Long Bridge's masonry.
It looked as though the nearly four-hundred-year-old bridge itself were bleeding tears.
Gerold was deeply dissatisfied with Malaqo's slaughter of civilians.
Had he not ordered his own men to block and protect the fleeing crowds, far more people would have died.
Benerro had escaped.
His black-skinned assistant, Moqorro, had stayed behind to delay Gerold's forces and the Volantene troops.
With more than a dozen arrows lodged in his body and several spear wounds from the Tiger Cloaks, Moqorro had fought until his final breath.
Even Gerold found himself admiring the man's loyalty and courage.
But when the combined Targaryen and Volantene forces stormed the Temple of the Lord of Light, that admiration turned into disgust.
The temple held more than twenty thousand slaves.
And if one counted the industries controlled by the temple, the number would easily double.
Mine slaves.
Labor slaves.
Gladiators.
Sex slaves.
Scriptorium slaves tasked with copying sacred texts.
The followers of the Lord of Light viewed slavery in a completely different way from the followers of the Seven.
Slaves were the foundation of their entire society, the base of the pyramid that supported all its weight.
Triarch Malaqo had originally planned a victory feast for Gerold.
But Gerold now wanted nothing more than to return to Gohor as quickly as possible.
He therefore proposed dividing the wealth of the Temple of the Lord of Light immediately.
After witnessing the effectiveness of the Dragon Cavalry firsthand, Malaqo had no desire to see such a powerful force remain in Volantis any longer than necessary.
Naturally, he agreed.
"The docks, shops, ships, and even the temple itself cannot be carried away by Your Grace's forces," said Nessiso, the Elephant Party Triarch.
"Since that is the case, why don't we give Benerro's treasury to King Viserys?"
As a representative of the Elephant Party, Nessiso understood economics very well.
For an institution as deeply entrenched as the Temple of the Lord of Light, real estate was where the true wealth lay.
The treasure stored in its vaults represented only a small fraction of its value.
"Indeed," Malaqo agreed with a smile. "We cannot neglect King Viserys's soldiers."
However, before departing for Volantis, Gerold had received extensive advice from the Old Crab.
The treasure vault certainly contained many valuable items and would more than compensate for the expenses of the campaign.
But it was nowhere near enough to cover the share that rightfully belonged to the Targaryens.
So Gerold made his demand.
"Fine. But I want all the slaves."
Nearly forty thousand slaves.
Among them were countless skilled workers.
Translators.
Scribes.
Craftsmen.
People whose value far exceeded that of ordinary laborers.
The contents of the treasury combined with the slave population should be about right, Gerold thought.
But his request immediately displeased Malaqo, Nessiso, and the third Triarch.
All three wore expressions of obvious discomfort.
As slave owners, they understood perfectly well that slaves represented the greatest wealth of all.
Especially now, when slave prices had risen dramatically.
The value of the temple's slave population was far higher than it had been a year earlier.
"Ser Gerold, taking all the slaves is impossible," Malaqo said. "To be honest, if this had happened a year ago, we might not have objected. But now..."
"What's different now?" Gerold asked bluntly.
Unlike Davos, he lacked any talent for diplomatic finesse.
His cold tone made Malaqo's expression stiffen.
"It is all because of King Viserys..." Malaqo had originally intended to say, "because of King Viserys's achievements."
But the words carried too much sarcasm, so he changed them.
"...because of King Viserys's actions."
Volantis had traditionally acquired slaves through two methods.
One was capturing them directly. The other was purchasing them from elsewhere.
After Gohor was founded, Viserys repeatedly sent fleets to intercept Volantene slaving expeditions.
That had nearly destroyed the first source.
As for the second, the Dothraki and mercenary groups like the Golden Company had long been important links in the slave trade.
Now Viserys had cut off those channels as well.
After all, slaves had once been people.
In an admittedly crude comparison, Viserys had effectively cut off the supply of raw materials. The entire slave economy had begun to shrink as a result.
Ironically, that made slaves even more valuable.
"Ser Gerold may take ten thousand slaves," Malaqo declared. "You may choose whichever ten thousand you like. But taking all of them is out of the question."
He sounded almost righteous in his refusal.
"Why not stop using slaves altogether?" Gerold countered. "Treat them as free people. Hire them."
"King Viserys has always said that people can only reach their full potential when they live in freedom and happiness."
Gerold knew he was unlikely to take all the slaves. Still, he tried to persuade them.
His words only earned mockery.
"Freedom?" Malaqo laughed. "Freedom is a privilege reserved for a few. If everyone had freedom, wouldn't the world descend into chaos?"
The old slave master leaned forward. "Tell me, who in this world is not a slave?"
His voice grew increasingly passionate.
"Those free commoners—are they not slaves? If they stop working, they starve. They are slaves to hunger.
If they fail to support their families, they end up on the streets. They are slaves to their need for belonging."
By now the old man had risen to his feet.
"And what of the nobles? Are they not slaves as well? What is the difference between a noblewoman and a sex slave?
The only distinction is that one brings gold while the other brings political influence.
I imagine things are no different in Westeros."
He shot Gerold a sideways glance.
Gerold wanted to argue.
Yet when he thought about Westeros, he found himself hesitating.
Noble marriages were little more than political arrangements.
Except for impoverished minor houses, nearly every great house was linked by blood or marriage.
Did those nobles truly love their wives?
Perhaps only in the bedchamber.
Otherwise, why would so many keep mistresses?
"And male nobles?" Malaqo continued. "Are they not slaves as well? They are slaves of the state."
"When war comes, they become soldier-slaves and battle-slaves. They are simply slaves to the rules that govern society."
The old man spread his hands.
"Ser Gerold, perhaps you don't agree with me. But the truth remains unchanged."
"In this world, everyone is a slave."
In the end, Gerold departed with fifteen thousand slaves, along with the dragon egg Malaqo had promised to present to Viserys.
It was a bronze-colored dragon egg.
Gerold assigned an entire squad of soldiers to guard it.
Standing atop the city walls, Malaqo watched the long northern-bound column disappear into the distance.
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
He was convinced that his speech had given the world one more supporter of slavery.
At the very least, Gerold would never again hate the institution as much as he once had.
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