Chapter 134: Pursuing the Dragon Thieves

The orange-red dragonfire poured down, engulfing Lataz Surlaxon before he could even scream. Burned to a crisp, he was reduced to ash as Vermax took a quick bite, chewed briefly, and spat out an unidentifiable mass to the side. With a spread of its wings, the dragon took to the skies.

Hoegon barely had time to process what had happened before Ben hoisted him onto a sturdy tiger-striped warhorse. "Stay behind to block those savages," Ben commanded the silver-haired slaves in High Valyrian. Mounting another horse, he spurred it toward Stormlands, riding hard to escape.

Ben Ulnar's quick instincts proved valuable. Moments after he and Hoegon fled, distant howls echoed from outside the valley. A group of over a dozen Dothraki riders galloped into the gorge. These Dothraki were unlike the typical horsemen; each wore heavy armor, and the leader, a man with numerous long braids, immediately noticed the silver-haired slaves lingering at the edge of the valley.

"Who are you? Why are you trespassing on the sacred pastures of Khal Argo and Khal Draezell?" the leader bellowed, gripping his hunting bow.

One of the slaves screamed defiantly, brandishing a blade as he charged toward the man. But before he could land a blow, a nearby Dothraki warrior loosed an arrow, piercing the slave's throat.

"Leave one alive. Kill the rest," the leader ordered coldly. Enraged by the audacity of these intruders on their sacred lands, he drew an arrow and felled another silver-haired slave. The Dothraki warriors roared as they closed in, firing arrows with precision. Within moments, only one slave remained alive.

The leader dismounted, unsheathing his arakh, and pressed it against the slave's throat. "I'll ask you one last time: Who are you, and why are you here on the sacred pastures of Khal Draezell and Khal Argo?"

The slave opened his mouth, revealing a tongueless cavity.

Infuriated, the leader severed his head with a swift stroke. Meanwhile, a warrior inspecting the ashes in the valley's center returned, trembling. "Moro, the offerings of sheep for the Great Khal's winged steed haven't been fully consumed. I also found human remains."

"Aaaargh!" Moro let out a guttural scream of anguish. He was a trusted ko of Khal Argo, commanding five hundred Screaming Riders. Offering cattle, sheep, and horses to Draezell's winged steed was a tremendous honor. Among the seventeen kos under Khal Argo, every one vied for this privilege. Moro had never made a mistake — until now. Vermax had left the offering unfinished, which was a grave insult.

"Go back and summon every one of our warriors. No, let the women join too! Capture those who dared to invade our sacred pastures!" Moro roared.

Fortunately for Ben and Hoegon, they had fled quickly. Before the dothraki riders could seal off the valley entrance, the pair had crossed into the Stormlands' territory.

Although Moro and the other kos wanted to continue the pursuit, they knew they were forbidden to hunt outside the sacred pastures granted by the Great Khal.

"Ser Tom, my apologies," Moro said somberly, meeting Ser Tom and his city guards at the valley's entrance. "We were too late. Ko Mongur and Ko Zhebe's riders blocked the exit, but they must have already escaped."

Having seen Vermax return safely to its lair, Ser Tom felt a wave of relief. Aslan Rondell had already sent word to the nearby Silverblood army camps and estates, but the chances of capturing the intruders were slim. At least the dragon was unharmed.

"Moro," Tom addressed the Dothraki leader, carefully recalling his title. "ko Moro, don't worry. We've mobilized personnel to inspect the ports and all checkpoints. If they dare remain within the borders of the Borderlands, they'll surely be found."

Moro thought back to Khal Argo's fury earlier. The young Khal was respectful toward his elders, but when he learned that outsiders had trespassed on Vermax's feeding grounds, he had harshly berated Moro. Had it not been for Moro's spotless record, Argo might have cut off all the braids on his head as punishment.

"If you catch them, I ask you to hand them over to us," Moro said gravely. "Khal Argo has decided to give them a lesson they'll never forget."

Tom nodded. Truthfully, he too wanted to teach these audacious trespassers a lesson.

Dragon's Nest, Silverblood Tower

"Brother, someone has tried to stole a dragon right under our noses," Valar exclaimed, rushing in, his face pale with shock. Draezell stood by the window, gazing down at the Summerfield below.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's the lot from Volantis," Draezell said calmly.

"Those bastards!" Valar slammed his fist against the wall in rage. "If we hadn't kept such a close watch on the dragon eggs, and if the Dragonpit wasn't guarded by our own people, I bet they would've dared to steal the eggs as well."

"What wouldn't they dare to do?" Draezell straightened, his tone icy. "They've always claimed to be the true descendants of the Dragonlords. Those fools in the Tiger Party never understood their own insignificance. Have they already forgotten how they lost the Century of Blood? It's been barely a hundred years."

Draezell was seething, not because the dragon had almost been stolen — he trusted Vermax completely. That dragon, bonded to Jace, wasn't one to submit easily, especially to the arrogant fools from Volantis.

What infuriated him was that someone had the audacity to target his dragon. Did they think Draezell, preoccupied with raising children and managing his lands, could no longer wield a sword or ride a dragon?

Yet, Draezell quickly realized there was little he could do. The Volantene envoys from the Tiger Party had already departed. Without evidence, he couldn't just fly to Volantis and burn the city to ashes, especially with members of the Elephant Party still residing there.

"Send a letter to the Lord of Evenfall of Tarth. Ask him to monitor the transit ships. Then send letters to King's Landing, Dragonstone, High Tide, and Craw Isle. Tell them to watch for any silver-haired, purple-eyed individuals. Once we find them, I'll make sure they understand what the wrath of a dragon truly means," Draezell ordered.

Valar nodded and rushed out to find a maester to draft the letters.

Draezell sank into his chair, still fuming, and absentmindedly picked up a nearby piece of parchment.

It was the candidate list for Aegon's Kingsguard.

As he scanned the names, his attention was immediately drawn to several of them.

They were all knights of great renown.