XARO: Qarth has always and only belonged to the Qartheen.
We were never part of Valyria's empire.
Nor have we ever fallen to a Dothraki horde.
Our walls and the Red Waste outside them, guard us from such annoyance.
Many call the approach to our city the Garden of Bones.
lt needs little tending to grow.
Our city, however, would be quite a prize for any empire.
Qarth straddles two worlds.
A greedy and curious west, and a rich and mysterious east.
The marvels of Yi Ti and Asshai pass through our markets
and share berths with the riches of the Free Cities and Westeros.
Our ports have fulfilled many a trader's dreams.
Almost as many as they have broken.
We call Qarth, "The greatest city that ever was or will be."
An easy claim to make
if one knows only the docks and customs houses of our other cities.
An easy lie to swallow
if the people see only the gold and jewels of their rulers,
which we, the Thirteen who govern the city, are careful to ensure.
The proud Qartheen shook off the yoke of unjust kings long ago.
So they are told at festivals by the Pureborn,
the king's direct descendants who have controlled the Thirteen ever since.
Only now, instead of scepters, they use ships.
A merchant only remains on the Thirteen
until the others are no longer afraid to deny him.
Or too afraid to deny his replacement.
Except for the Warlocks - they alone hold a hereditary seat.
A relic from when they had powers,
or, at least, from when the world was younger
and more easily duped.
Over the years we have developed an understanding with them.
They shall always be welcome on our councils
and at affairs of state,
provided they never come.
Rare is the civic problem that can be solved
by cryptic nonsense and shade of the evening.
Thankfully, they need little encouragement to confine themselves
to their House of the Undying.
Yet, perhaps, we Qartheen are too confined ourselves.
We feel safe behind our walls and our laws which no visitor can hope to follow.
And by which any citizen who vouches for a guest
always pays with his life.
But like a ship in the summer seas,
a city grows becalmed without fresh wind.
"The greatest city that ever was or will be," an epitaph.
l would prefer, "The greatest city that is."