With emissaries from Qarth leading the procession, Vlad's retinue passed through the city's towering gates and entered narrow streets where the buildings intertwined in a chaotic urban mosaic—smoky taverns, brothels draped in satin curtains, and mansions adorned with lapis lazuli formed a landscape as chaotic as it was fascinating. The elite of Qarth—wealthy merchants, nobles, and members of the Thirteen—lined either side of the road, casting anxious glances at the Dothraki horde and the dragons slithering behind Daenerys.
From an ornately carved balcony, Xaro and several warlocks observed the entire procession.
A deep roar made the glass in nearby windows vibrate, prompting several onlookers to recoil instinctively.
Xaro Xhoan Daxos watched the man he hoped would overthrow Qarth from his balcony. Though Vlad looked every bit the great warrior, his appearance clashed with the brutal reputation that preceded him. Xaro chalked it up to exaggerated rumors.
It was Egon Emeros who took the first step. The envoy of the Pure Ones advanced nimbly; his nose, adorned with a ruby the size of a quail's egg, glinted in the sunlight.
—Great Lord of the Steppes —he intoned with a soft, honeyed voice—, Qarth opens its arms to your glory. Our ancestors celebrate you from the Beyond.
Vlad inclined his head slightly, flashing a smile as sharp as a dagger.
—Your bards were timid in describing this wonder —he replied politely—. Your hospitality pleases me. I've heard much about Qarth: the most delicious food, the sweetest drink, the most passionate women, and… magical tricks and illusions —he added with feigned excitement.
Then he turned, looking at Daenerys.
—My wife is also thrilled; she enjoys a good party. She's not too fond of the Dothraki way of celebrating with a battle. You know, war is no place for a lady —Vlad added with a laugh, playing the role of the naive and foolish lord.
—Of course, my lord. We shall prepare a banquet in honor of the beautiful princess —Pree announced, delighted.
Vlad's bloodriders stayed close to Daenerys, each of them a vampire with a singular order: protect her. Meanwhile, she was speaking with a young envoy from the council of the Thirteen. The girl held a fan made of exotic feathers and laughed a little too hard, clearly trying to win her trust.
Vlad and Daenerys had agreed to play their roles well. He, a fool overly interested in tales and wonders; she, a spoiled princess. It must be said, neither of them struggled—Vlad because he knew how to act, and Daenerys because she missed the comforts of noble life.
Various men and women approached the procession to greet Vlad's entourage, bringing gifts—weapons, musical instruments, and slaves. Everyone wanted to gain favor with the new dragon family.
What none of them knew was that Vlad was testing the waters. He was well aware that the Thirteen would try to have his head, either to rid themselves of a Dothraki leader or to steal his dragons. Like them, Vlad was also testing the terrain, but he needed to confirm which other members of the Thirteen were involved, so he would know exactly who to replace with his own progeny—without causing disruptions or power vacuums.
The gifts kept coming, and Vlad received them with smiles and compliments that never quite reached his eyes. Some of the slaves presented were dancers, warriors, or scribes. Vlad pretended to consider the gifts and sent them straight to the camp, where they would be freed.
—Impressive —he commented when he saw a young slave with eyes of an almost supernatural blue—. Where did you find him?
—From distant Asshai, my lord —answered one of the merchants—. They say he never speaks.
—Then it'll be fun to try —Vlad replied, turning slightly toward one of his bloodriders, who understood the order and quietly led the boy away.
At his side, Xaro slowly descended from the balcony, surrounded by servants and wearing a scandalously ornate cloak that dragged along the stairs.
—Vlad Drakul, hero of the steppes, father of dragons, and the terrifying Lord Impaler —he greeted with arms wide open, exaggerating his tone as if they were already dear friends—. Your arrival is an honor that my humble house delights in celebrating.
Vlad inclined his head—no more than a millimeter than necessary.
—The pleasure is mine, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. It says much of you that you're the only one of the Thirteen not afraid to meet me in person. Or perhaps the only one stubborn enough to do so.
Xaro let out a theatrical laugh.
—Stubbornness and courage often share a bed in Qarth! —he replied with a brilliant smile—. Allow me to offer you anything you desire—for a price, of course.
—Of course. I'm interested in weapons, ships, men—you know, I must reclaim my wife's kingdom —he said, as if it were a trivial thing.
—Of course, of course. After the banquet, I shall take you to see our finest wares —Xaro announced joyfully.
Vlad followed the men on a tour of Qarth; naturally, their group was preceded by guards and merchants of all kinds, each hoping to curry favor with the new dragon family.
Vlad and Daenerys were taken to the "loveliest" places in the city—which, in truth, were fountains-filled parks and luxurious brothels. They politely refused all offers of pleasure, though that didn't stop more than one courtesan from approaching Vlad… and Daenerys.
Truth be told, Vlad didn't enjoy parading around, but the path to the palace was filled with various curiosities that the emissaries were eager to showcase and explain in detail.