Chapter 365: Spirit of the Wind

"Wildlings in the South too?" Dany asked in surprise.

But Barristan suddenly understood, slapping his thigh and exclaiming, "If the old maester hadn't reminded me, I would've forgotten.

The clans on the Claw Isle Peninsula are loyal only to the Targaryens. They even take pride in being model subjects of the dragonlords."

"Claw Isle Peninsula?" Dany rose from her soft couch and walked to the map of the Seven Kingdoms hanging on the wall opposite the fireplace. Her finger tapped on Maidenpool, then traced eastward along the horn-shaped peninsula.

"How strange. This land between Blackwater Bay and the Trident is largely blank, with no markings for castles, roads, towns, or villages."

"There are no castles—only clan settlements," Barristan replied.

Old Aemon also rose from his soft fur-covered seat and walked to Dany's side. Pointing at the map, he said, "The peninsula is barren and poor, filled with swamps and pine forests. Yet every shadowy valley has its own lord.

Most are descendants of the First Men, and even the Andals failed to conquer the Claw Isle Peninsula.

Darkvale, Maidenpool, and even Celtigar of Claw Isle all returned in defeat from there.

The lords and their people on the peninsula do not trust or welcome outsiders—except for the Targaryens.

Three hundred years ago, Queen Visenya rode her dragon Vhagar to the Claw Isle Peninsula to recruit soldiers, visiting each clan one by one.

The lords, awed by the dragon's majesty and frightened by Black Harren's tragic end, were also charmed by Queen Visenya's charisma. All knelt willingly in submission.

In return, the queen made them direct vassals of House Targaryen.

They swore mutual oaths, establishing a bond of lord and vassal that has never wavered.

Though the peninsula never paid a single copper piece in tax to the Iron Throne, they never once refused a Targaryen call to arms."

"In the Battle of the Trident, all the great families from the peninsula fought alongside Prince Rhaegar until the bitter end. Fewer than one in ten lords returned alive to Claw Isle," Ser Barristan said, eyes distant, voice filled with sorrow.

"Though wildlings are backward in culture, in terms of loyalty and honor, few can compare to them," Dany said with emotion.

A different kind of valor, the kind often found among outcasts.

"Treat the clansmen as a reserve force. Recruit them only when necessary. Hmm… Gars will deliver 3 million gold dragons' worth of grain to Dragonstone—send some of that to them as well," Dany decided.

The hunchbacked Maester Newton had the castle's weavers work overnight to make a hundred true dragon banners. At dawn the next day, Ser Dink led men to hang the Targaryen three-headed dragon banner at the docks and atop the castle of High Tide.

The appearance of the red dragon on black shocked the townsfolk and merchants at High Tide's port.

"The Targaryens have returned!" The older residents of Tideshead were flooded with memories of the old days. Rushing about in both fear and excitement, they told everyone they met of the true dragons' return.

"Hurry, sail to Dragonstone and tell Ser Lucion that the three-headed dragon flag has appeared on Tideshead!" A merchant from King's Landing, hiding his anxiety, whispered to his helmsman to set sail from the harbor.

"Sigh… A great storm is coming. Queen Mother Cersei is still imprisoned in the Great Sept of Baelor, and King Tommen doesn't seem up to the task," muttered a guest at a tavern near the dock, cup in hand.

"Another War of the Four Kings, perhaps? Winter is coming, can't these high lords just calm down?" his companion grumbled.

"Anyone playing the game of thrones cares little for winter. What king ever froze to death, or which noble starved? It's not the Long Night, after all."

"Seven hells! Have you counted how many kings have emerged in the Seven Kingdoms over the past two years?"

"Let's see—Robert, the Young Wolf, Renly, Stannis, Joffrey, Tommen, Balon, Daenerys… and now I hear the ironborn have gone old school and picked a pirate king named Euron?"

"Westeros has only Seven Kingdoms, but now we've got nine kings," laughed a merchant from across the Narrow Sea.

"I heard this Targaryen has real dragons—several?"

"Yeah. If you haven't been to the Free Cities, you wouldn't know about the anti-Dragon Queen alliance. Daenerys Targaryen has four dragons."

"Phew! Terrifying! Even Aegon only had three."

"Think she'll block the Gullet and stop grain ships from reaching King's Landing?" asked a grain merchant suddenly.

"Right! Let the kings and nobles play their throne games—we're just trying to profit from the chaos!

The High Sparrow borrowed millions from the Iron Bank and is buying grain like mad in the Free Cities. Prices have tripled at least!

As long as we get to King's Landing, it's all shiny gold dragons. This is a rare opportunity!"

The topic quickly shifted from amazement at the return of true dragons to concerns over war cutting off sea routes.

"Look! Red-shelled crabs!" Suddenly, a brown-haired middle-aged mercenary standing by the window shouted, pointing at the harbor dock.

Everyone rushed over to look. A massive 50-meter-long, two-decked galleon was leading a fleet of three slightly smaller 30-meter vessels and more than a dozen long galleys with oars, slowly approaching the dock.

Every ship flew two flags side by side: one with a white background and a red crab sigil, the other with the black three-headed dragon on red.

From the third floor of the tavern, they could just make out a tall, silver-armored man with graying hair standing on the top deck of the flagship.

"That's Count Celtigar! Wasn't he captured and imprisoned in King's Landing?" asked a fat merchant in fancy clothes at a nearby table, puzzled.

"The news of the true dragon's return has long spread. He's no fool—stay in King's Landing and risk the Lannisters' suspicion? Whether or not he truly served the Iron Throne, once a Targaryen appears, the lions will never trust him again. Better to escape and become a trusted minister to the true dragon.

It's not just Velaryon and Celtigar—dozens of noble houses in the Crownlands have served the Targaryens for centuries. Their ancestors were made nobles after landing with Aegon in Blackwater Bay," said a Crownlands-born sellsword with a complicated expression.

When the news of Count Adrian leading his fleet to High Tide's harbor reached Driftmark, Dany was atop the observatory, facing the sea, deep in meditation.

She was listening to the voice of the wind.

It turned out that she had wrongly blamed Barristan last time—he hadn't interrupted her moment of enlightenment. That magical state of unity between heaven and man wasn't a one-time occurrence. As long as she calmed her mind and entered the depths of her consciousness amid the wind, she could hear the voice of the wind again.

Since this state of unity was a natural condition, it could no longer be called a moment of epiphany.

At this moment, a faint blue glow flickered between Daenerys's brows. Her consciousness drifted with the sea breeze—ethereal and boundless, vague and indistinct, with no clear origin or destination.

She seemed to become the wind itself, brushing over the surface of the sea, stirring the waves, and then, without warning, scattering against the reefs. The scene shifted, and she found herself on a plain, gently caressing flower petals and wheat stalks. The leaves sang to her.

In that moment, it felt as if her entire being had merged with the world, granting her an unprecedented sense of clarity.

Suddenly, she sensed something off within her body. The ring-shaped meditation method of the Second Soul—the Greenseer's method—felt awkward and unnatural. The nine-colored vortex seemed hideously out of place.

Her spirit was in harmony with heaven and earth, but the meditation methods of the Greenseers and grand sorcerers felt jarring—like building a modern villa in the middle of a classical Chinese garden. It simply didn't belong.

She wanted to tear down the villa and rebuild an eastern-style pavilion that blended seamlessly into the garden and became a part of it.

And then, the ring-shaped form of the Greenseer's meditation shattered—splintering into countless individual runes.

Some runes began to vanish, some changed shape, and new ones—symbols Daenerys had never seen before—suddenly emerged.

All the runes floated around her like flower petals, merging with her into the wind, appearing on the sea, the reefs, the islands, the forests, the wheat fields, and the cities...

"Your Grace, Your Grace, please wake up. Count Setyga is here."A stern, weathered face filled her view, replacing the vast world of nature.

I'm not angry. The old knight is innocent. Not angry, not angry...With a blank expression, Daenerys silently repeated the calming spell in her heart hundreds of times, then slowly said, "That fast? It's not even noon yet!"

"Perhaps he got the message last night and set off at dawn. The sea journey from Crab Isle to Tidetop Island only takes a few hours," Barristan replied.

"He's arrived at Driftwood Keep? Then just bring him to me."

"The sailors spotted the Count's fleet from the watchtower. He should be at the dock now. Maester Aemon suggested you go down to greet him—it's the proper etiquette between ruler and subject."

"Alright," Daenerys nodded. "You go to the dock first. I'll follow on dragonback."

After the white knight departed, she sighed and re-entered her conscious space, examining the Second Soul's ring form that had reassembled. It seemed something had changed… yet also nothing at all.

"Quaithe was right. I should take a few years to truly settle myself—ideally abandoning mundane affairs to focus solely on cultivation."Then she gave a bitter smile and shook her head. Where would she find those years? Winter was coming.

She began calling for Drogon and Viserion.

"Screeeech—"Drogon, who had been sunbathing on a cliffside boulder, leapt up, circling around to the observatory. Like a sea hawk, he tilted sideways, lowered his altitude, and skimmed past the wall in flight.

Then Daenerys dashed forward and leapt from the 30-meter-high tower. With her eyes closed, in a state of dragon-spirit unity, she listened to the voice of the wind. In that instant, she, Drogon, and the world itself seemed to fuse into one organic whole through the flow of the wind.

Just as a person might naturally step onto a stair, Daenerys lightly landed on the speeding black dragon's back. She stood tall on Drogon, arms spread, eyes closed, feeling the rhythm of the wind.

"So wonderful. This is true cultivation. Unity of heaven and man. The Way follows nature."

"Your Grace, Queen Daenerys..."

Suddenly, as she was immersed in the sea breeze, Daenerys heard her name being called. The voice was faint and broken, as if an illusion.

"Iris, Rhaegar, you two must perform well. This is truly a moment of reversal for our family.Her Majesty the Queen is in her prime, and the Targaryens are down to her alone. And coincidentally, the Velaryons are also left with only one child.

The Queen must marry, and the kingdom needs an heir. Our House Setyga bears noble Valyrian blood and shares centuries of loyalty with House Targaryen. There's no one more suitable than you..."

Ripples stirred on Daenerys's heart lake, the voice gradually faded and finally disappeared. She also emerged from that brief and marvelous state.

Heavens, I heard Count Setyga's voice!Was that... the Greenseer's ability to listen to the earth?Daenerys was overjoyed.

In the future, could she, like Bran and Brynden Rivers, uncover all the world's secrets?

With that beautiful hope in her heart, the Dragon Queen no longer minded the little schemes of the old crab.

(End of chapter)

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