S6, Chapter 3: TYRION

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The bells were ringing. Loud and clear!

"Instead of abolishing slavery overnight, we will give you seven years to end the practice."
"Let us sail on the tide of freedom instead of being drowned by it."
"Give freedom a chance and see if it doesn't taste every bit as good as what came before."

How Tyrion Lannister regretted his own words as he scowled, from the lowest balcony of the great pyramid, upon the hundreds of slaver's ships reaching the shores of Meereen.
After all, finding a way to align his interests with his enemies', convincing them that working with him will eventually result in their own personal glory, had generously been successful for him in the past.

When Tyrion was prisoner in the highest cell in the Eyrie, he convinced Mord, the prison guard, to pass on a message to the Lady Arryn having suspected that the bold fat man was thirsty for gold and promised him plenty if he helped.

When the hill tribesmen surrounded Tyrion and Bronn in the woods of The Vale, Tyrion quickly determined that Shagga, son of Dolf — the tribe chief — was yearning to own the mountain lands he had raided his entire life. If the half-man's life was spared, he would be given all of it and more...

When Tyrion was on trial for murdering the King, his only two options were death or exile and he was begged by his brother to plead for the wall. Instead, he cleverly staged a confession shaming his captors into giving him the third legal option they had forgotten to present him with: trial by combat. It bought him some time and eventually, led him to freedom.

He underestimated the Good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, and the Benevolent enslavers of Volantis. How? He questioned, already knowing the answer; he was far from home and the politics of Essos were more foreign to him than he cared to admit.
"Grey Worm was right... these people only answer to blood..."

The bells are ringing, loud and clear!
A large stone, coated with wild vines on fire, materializes with high speed as it is heading straight into him. He instinctively leaps to his left, falling head first on the masonry, dodging the projectile by a few inches.

BOOM! A large portion of the stoned wall tumbles and destroys the right facade of the balcony, the whole of it crashing down on Meereenese men, women and children running from certain death.
Smoke and dust rain down on Tyrion before a rock hits his head. Laying on the stone, dazed and confused, he slowly opens his eyes.
The Sons of the Harpy, with their golden masks of horned faces, hundreds and hundreds of them battling the thousands of Unsullied on the widest paved street in the city.
Long daggers clashing spears! The dark-armored eunuchs seem to be having the upper hand despite former Meereenese slavers joining the ranks of the Harpies. Dead bodies of gold and ornate iron cover the limestone blocks while blood pours out like rivers into sewers.
Tyrion looks ahead and sees the armies of Astapor, Yunkai and Volantis running through the numerous alleyways of the city in the direction of the melee, murdering all in their path.
The cavalry of Second Sons came galloping from the sides and trampled over the vanguard of the Slavers' army, hooves crushing heads on paved ground, steel piercing through neighing horses collapsing on fresh corpses.
Many of the slavers' soldiers manage to sneak past the mounted troops and into the large square delivering much needed aid to their fellow Harpies.

Tyrion glances to the right and the voice of Grey Worm can be heard from afar, barking a command in Valyrian.
Swiftly, some of the Unsullied encircled their enemies that stayed closer together, trapping them in a web of spears. Immediately, the same amount of Unsullied created a second layer, encircling their allies, their back against theirs.
The inner-circle was closing in, one step at a time, one jab at a time, round shields forming protection. The outer circle moved as seamlessly while protecting their allied rear.
The rebels trapped inside the shrinking circle swung their daggers and swords as far as they could; at best, they would reach the pointy end of the Unsullied lances. Ultimately, they succumbed to the military prowess of Grey Worm.

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