Chapter 35: The Dragon Seeker
"As long as the black dragon grows strong enough, you can use him to subdue and control the white and green dragons," he reasoned.
Jorah also acknowledged that Daenerys's efforts in teaching the dragons might indeed aid in their development.
He shared a piece of Targaryen history, warning her that dragons were not invincible and recounting several instances of dragon slayings.
"The most famous, of course, is the death of Meraxes. Back when your ancestor Aegon, with the help of his two sisters, conquered six of the Seven Kingdoms except for Dorne. But during the assault on the Hellholt in Dorne, Queen Rhaenys's dragon was struck by a bolt through the eye. Meraxes fell to its death on the spot."
Jorah glanced at the three young dragons soaring above in search of prey and sighed, "If even such a small, vulnerable target as the eye could be struck, their bodies and wings are far more susceptible to injury. In every sense, they are far too immature."
Daenerys accepted part of Jorah's advice but chose not to completely abandon the white and green dragons.
In fact, facing this situation, any student from a well-organized education system would know the solution:
Yes, splitting them into different classes—regular, accelerated, and advanced.
The black dragon, being the top student, went straight to the "advanced class." The other two, as the troublemakers, would be lucky just to graduate and make Daenerys's "motherly heart proud."
While she was busy taming the dragons, her khalasar wasn't idle either.
The elderly and women systematically scavenged the wealth buried by time in the three cities of White Cloud.
The young and strong made expeditions to the western mountains to hunt. Beyond securing their own food, they brought back smoked meats.
At Daenerys's request, Jorah began teaching the Dothraki children the ways of knighthood.
To be honest, the Dothraki screamers were little more than light cavalry.
Even a military amateur like Daenerys knew how ineffective light cavalry was at breaking enemy lines.
By contrast, the knights of Westeros, clad in full armor, had far greater impact and battlefield endurance.
The Dothraki's custom of wearing sleeveless leather vests while fighting wasn't because of their so-called bravery.
The real reason was poverty—poverty in resources, civilization, and societal structure.
They couldn't afford armor, didn't have the means to produce steel, and lacked the skills to forge it.
In the vast grass sea, a single set of armor was worth far more than the life of a screamer.
But now, things were different. The Dothraki had Daenerys.
She would inevitably bring them more advanced systems, vastly improving their productivity.
In the future, there would be enough resources to produce many knights, and Daenerys herself would need a loyal force of armored warriors.
After three months in White Cloud City, Daenerys cheerfully raised a turnip the size of a child's fist and loudly proclaimed to the gathered Dothraki, "The first batch of crops is about to mature! We'll never have to worry about famine again!"
This world truly was bizarre. A biennial turnip had managed to bear fruit in just three months—even in this sweltering climate.
Then again, considering the strange sight in the orchards, where one peach tree was blossoming while another was dropping fruit, she wasn't so surprised anymore.
This was the Long Summer, after all.
In the Long Summer, the poor could eat until they were stuffed, but in the Long Winter, even the nobles would starve.
However, her announcement didn't earn the reaction she had hoped for. Instead of cheers, Aggo stepped forward and said loudly, "Khaleesi, we are horsemen. Horsemen do not become weak farmers."
"I think we should abandon this city and migrate to the western mountains to hunt and herd," he suggested.
"We have too many people, and the primary food sources for nomads—lamb and fat cattle—were long slaughtered. All we have left are horses, which yield very little meat."
Daenerys glared at him and retorted, "Hunting is too uncertain. We need a stable food supply. This city is not only safe but abundant."
"The Red Waste is deserted. Where's the danger?" her bloodrider challenged defiantly.
"Report!"
With a long shout, a galloping horse approached the farmland with a steady clatter of hooves.
"Report, Khaleesi! Someone is approaching our city!" the rider exclaimed excitedly from atop his steed.
Aggo's earlier words came back to haunt him.
"Blame your jinxed mouth!" Daenerys shot him a glare before turning to the rider. "Who are they? How many people?"
"Three people," the Dothraki warrior replied with a peculiar expression. "They claim to be dragon seekers and asked if this city is White Cloud. They also inquired if a Targaryen girl has hatched dragons here."
"What?" Daenerys blurted in English, startled by the revelation.
"How is that possible? Are you sure they said 'White Cloud'?" she asked quickly.
"Yes, Khaleesi. The shadowbinder used those exact words."
"Shadowbinder?" Daenerys was startled again.
Although she had named the city "White Cloud," she had assumed no outsiders would come here. The city gates didn't even bear a sign with its name.
And yet...
"Where are my dragons?" she asked, glancing at the sky. "Have the white and green dragons returned?"
"No," the Dothraki warriors shook their heads in unison.
The black dragon, being in the "advanced class," had more rigorous training and stayed near Daenerys most of the time. At this moment, he stood on her silver mare's saddle, flapping his wings and scanning the surroundings with deep red eyes.
The white and green dragons, the unruly "wild children" who weren't excelling in academics, had been designated as "athletic specialists." Daenerys had reduced their training regimen, giving them more time to hunt freely outside.
If they wouldn't study hard, they could at least "work" early and fend for themselves.
"Could they have encountered my dragons outside?" Daenerys pondered aloud, stroking her chin. "But even if they saw dragons, how would they know they belong to a Targaryen?"
"Khaleesi, they not only know you're a Targaryen, but they also mentioned your name—Daenerys," the Dothraki warrior said with conviction. "It must be the shadowbinder. The sorcerers from the Shadow Lands are known for their prophetic magic. Everyone knows that."
"Yes, everyone knows that," Aggo nodded seriously.
"Everyone knows that," chimed in Irri, Daenerys's handmaiden.
Here we go again.
Daenerys quietly rolled her eyes and said, "Aggo, go summon Rakharo and Jhogo. And bring Ser Jorah as well."
At that moment, Jorah was at the square, teaching children swordsmanship. Daenerys herself had occasionally joined the lessons over the past few months. Despite focusing only on the basics, she had significantly improved her strength and technique.
"Qhuro, come with me to meet the visitors," she instructed before turning to the rider. "You didn't let them into the city, did you?"
"No, Khaleesi. You've said before that no outsider is allowed into the city without your permission," the Dothraki replied quickly.
Daenerys blinked, surprised. Had she given such an order?
Thinking back, she vaguely remembered saying something like that on her second day in White Cloud, when she had ordered the city gates to be blocked with stones.
It had been so long ago that she had forgotten, but clearly, the Dothraki hadn't. They had faithfully adhered to her commands.
Sigh. While the Dothraki could be blunt and confrontational, their loyalty and execution were impeccable.
As they rode through the streets, Daenerys let her thoughts wander until she and her entourage reached the city gates.
The wooden portcullis was raised high. Leading a group of ten roaring warriors, Daenerys passed through the narrow gate tunnel and emerged outside the city.
As soon as Daenerys stepped outside the city gates, her heart sank. It wasn't just the three visitors that caught her attention—what startled her most was their mounts: camels!
She wasn't a strategist or an elite politician, but her sharp mind quickly pieced it together: the Red Waste, which was a death trap for the Dothraki, was merely a difficult but manageable terrain for others.
If the Red Waste was no longer an insurmountable barrier, it could no longer serve as a protective shield for her fledgling Qarth-like city.
This place was no longer safe!
Why was crossing the Red Waste so difficult for the Dothraki?
Daenerys and her followers had endured a grueling journey southward. If it hadn't been for her knowledge from survival shows like those of Bear Grylls, she might have ended up like the original Daenerys, losing her people one by one along the way. But why was it so challenging?
The answer was simple: the Dothraki were using the wrong mode of transportation.
It was like comparing a rugged off-road vehicle to a luxury sports car—each was built for entirely different purposes. Use an off-road vehicle for daily commutes, and your fuel costs alone could buy a new car in a year. Drive a BMW into unpaved wilderness, and it would break down the moment it left the road.
The Dothraki's plains horses were strong and swift, bred over thousands of years for their speed, endurance, and power. These warhorses were perfectly suited for the lush grasslands of the Dothraki Sea and the fertile plains along the Rhoyne River.
However, they were ill-equipped to handle the arid, harsh environment of the Red Waste. Lacking the resilience to endure the heat and drought, the horses were quickly worn down.
This forced Daenerys to tread carefully, ensuring that neither the horses nor their riders were pushed beyond their limits. Even with each Dothraki having their own mount, their daily progress was capped at about 100 kilometers.
In contrast, camels—often called the "ships of the desert"—traversed the thorny wastelands of the Red Waste as effortlessly as if they were strolling in their own backyard.
"I am the Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen of House Targaryen. Welcome, guests from afar. The weather is scorching outside—let us return to the city," Daenerys declared warmly, skipping any formal questioning of their identities. She revealed her own name and extended an immediate invitation.
The three camel riders were equally courteous. With practiced ease, they unwound the Arabian-style scarves from their heads, revealing their well-prepared appearances, and introduced themselves one by one.
The man on the left had pale skin, bluish lips, and hollow cheeks. Speaking in rough Dothraki, he said, "Great Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, I am Pyat Pree, the Grand Warlock of Qarth."
While addressing Daenerys, his gaze burned with fervor as it locked onto Drogon, who perched atop her head, calmly observing the scene.
The man in the middle was bald, obese, and had an even paler complexion—his milky-white skin made Daenerys's fair complexion seem dark in comparison. On one side of his bulbous nose, which was even larger than Jackie Chan's, was a thumb-sized emerald embedded into his skin.
Speaking in Valyrian, the common tongue of the Free Cities, he said, "Princess of House Targaryen, thank you for your invitation. Your kindness is as radiant as your beauty. I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a member of the Thirteen of Qarth."
Though his words were flattering, his gaze betrayed a calculating glint, as if appraising her worth as a commodity.
Compared to the other two, Daenerys found Xaro easier to deal with—at least he didn't possess powers that extended beyond the realm of mortals.
(End of Chapter)
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