Chapter 27 - The Queen and the Exiled Princesses (III)
"Are you by any chance a fool, friend? Know that I do not associate with fools, they usually die young, usually beheaded." Tyrion Lannister - Hand of the King.
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Ten thousand of the twenty thousand men of the Fiery Hand Army took to the streets, all marching in order and discipline through the streets of Volantis like a sea of red flames. Their orders were simple: anyone suspicious was to be interrogated and, if necessary, arrested or executed on the spot.
The order was soon raised to a very high level throughout the city. Every foreigner was questioned on the street and searched without discrimination. Man or woman, child or elderly, all were thoroughly searched for any weapon, be it a dagger or even a hand crossbow.
In a bar, three men were drinking with their heads down, whispering to each other in voices they could only hear. Three of them seemed to have different ethinies. One was obviously of Dothraki descent, possibly the result of rape, which, believe me, was not uncommon.
The second man had white skin, blond hair and blue eyes, probably the son of Myr. Whether his mother was a prostitute or not, no one could ever know.
The third had more closed eyes and a more symmetrical face, black hair and dark brown eyes, his features were completely different from those of the free city dwellers. He was either from the Yi Ti Empire or descended from one.
"What is happening to this damn city?" The first man spoke with a strong High Valyrian bastard tone.
"Never mind, let's finish the mission and leave quickly, I don't want to spend another day in this city full of fanatics." The third man spoke with a slightly worried tone.
"Let's split up and finish the mission." The second man spoke, he seemed to be the handsomest and most gallant of the three, with a gentle smile and soft spoken, the favorite type of ladies in Westeros.
The three nodded and left one by one, leaving ten minutes between each exit without raising suspicion.