Chapter #5Jorah Mormont by: Yote   Kraznys mo Nakloz lead them across the walls of Astapor, talking at length in High Valyrian of the Unsullied slave soldiers while the slave girl at his side translated. Jorah Mormont followed behind them, trying to keep his eyes away from the Queen backside and on the slaver. He had decided he didn't like the Good Master, something about his attitude displeased him, though the meaning of his words were lost to him. Not that he'd had much love for the slave city and its rulers to begin with.
"The Unsullied have stood here for a day and night without food or water. They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience," the slave girl spoke, as they enter a courtyard.
Row after row of slaves faced them, standing rigidly to attention in the baking sun, their round shields and spiked caps glinting. Sweat trickled down the bronze skin of their bodies, but behind their helms their eyes stared forward impassively, as if they didn't feel the heat.
These couldn't be the Unsullied, Jorah thought, confused. They were women. While garbed as soldiers, the bodies beneath were broad-hipped and curvaceous. Though their physiques were muscular and and honed, the heavy breasts that strained against the dark leather armour were clearly ill suited for combat. Many wore their hair long, which fell in long braids from beneath their caps.
"There's been a mistake. We asked for soldiers, not slave women," Jorah said.
"[Tell the old man he smells of piss,]" Kraznys spat.
The translator hesitated before speaking. "My master bids tell you that the Unsullied are not women. All these you see here where born as men."
As one, the ranks of soldiers parted to allow the small group to pass between them. Jorah felt his heart quicken as he walked the narrow corridor, the rows of perfect female specimens stood so close that their huge, leather-clad breasts were pressed against him. Long-lashed, beautiful brown eyes stared out from behind the slits in their helms. "I know eunuchs when I see them," Jorah retorted. "These aren't eunuchs."
Kraznys uttered something at length, and the slave girl spoke. "Each Unsullied was once a slave boy. They begin their training at 5. They are cut and their bodies molded to suit our needs. Every day they drill from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the short sword, shield, and spear. Every night they are drilled until they have mastered the arts of pleasure. The Unsullied are both infantry and whores, unparalleled in both."
Jorah couldn't help but smile as he looked to Daenerys. Her face was a picture. She seemed almost intimidated by the soldiers, who not only matched her in the flawlessness of their beauty, but also made her chest look like that of a boy in comparison. Folding her arms self-consciously about her inadequate breasts, she asked, "How is this done?"
"The Unsullied drink of two elixirs every day. The Wine of Courage deadens their sensitivity to pain, makes them obedient, strong and fearless in battle. The Wine of Beauty gives them a woman's form, makes their skin soft, their breasts full. It is this that makes them so deadly on the field. Their wanton bodies seduce men to distraction even as they kill them. They are the perfect soldiers. Look good women, they are obedient. They will not, indeed can not, rape or become bloodcrazed. After you conquer a city, they will allow themselves to be fucked for gold, and will give all of it to you. Many owners use them to service and satisfy their other soldiers, even entire armies."
"This Wine of Beauty sounds like powerful stuff, if it can turn men into these," Jorah remarked in wonder. "I can't help but wonder what effect it would have on women," he chuckled.
Daenerys rolled her eyes. "It is this Wine of Courage that concerns me more. You say they fear nothing?"
"[Tell this ignorant whore of a westerner to open her eyes and watch,]" Kraznys said, stepping towards the nearest Unsullied. Drawing it's knife, he cut away the leather straps covering its breasts. The nipples were large, and the Unsullied remained impassive as the slave owner sliced them away, against the objections of the Queen. "[She's worried about their nipples? Does the dumb bitch not know we already cut off their balls,]" he chuckled. "[Tell the Westerosi whore to decide by tomorrow.]"  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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